90 
Moving In
As they hatched their plot inside the house, none of them had an idea that less than half a mile away one of the two men they had come to England to assassinate was invisibly closing a net around them.
Churchill motioned to the vehicles that had stopped behind him. Silently about two dozen uniformed men in the colors of the British Army and Royal Navy, along with five or six plainclothes Secret Service agents, came forward on foot. More signals and a few whispered instructions followed. Under cover of the rolling hills, brush, and a few trees, the band began slowly moving toward the lighthouse and other buildings, gradually spreading out to surround the compound against the bluff overlooking the sea.
Her heart pounding even more than before, Amanda walked between Langham and Churchill, beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into. She didn’t mind a little adventure now and then. But these men were carrying guns! Somebody could get hurt around here!
Slowly the combined strike force crept from the three landward sides toward the house with the red roof. The buildings all sat relatively exposed near the bluff. So far they had not been seen. They would have to run the last fifty yards without benefit of cover.
When everyone was in place Churchill gave the signal.
Bending low, they hurried stealthily from their positions toward the first of the outbuildings, then, when it was safe, to the base of the lighthouse, spreading out again around two or three other small structures.
At last they slowed. Following Churchill’s signal, they crept toward the main house, crouching as they moved into position. Two teams would enter simultaneously by front and back doors. The rest would remain outside to keep the house and buildings surrounded.
Churchill motioned to Amanda and Langham to follow him. They ducked low beneath a window off the sitting room. Catching a breath or two, Churchill now rose carefully and peeped over the sill of the window. Most of those inside were apparently seated in the main lounge after the arrival of the newcomers. He crouched low again and motioned for Amanda to sneak whatever peek she was able.
Up in the gallery of the lighthouse, Chalmondley Beauchamp happened to glance down toward the ground.
Were his eyes playing a trick on him in this morning mist?
He saw . . . there it was again . . . someone running. What was that figure doing down below? Now he was running toward the base of the lighthouse. What were all those figures about! There were people everywhere.
Dozens of them! Wearing uniforms!
Seized with sudden panic, he grabbed his binoculars and ran outside the small glass-enclosed room to the catwalk. He looked straight down to the ground.
It couldn’t be! Was that actually . . . it looked like that young assistant of Churchill’s, the son of that naval officer, whatever his name was. What the devil—
Good heavens, there was Churchill himself! And Colonel Forsythe of the army and Jack Whyte from the Secret Service. What was happening!
Obviously the jig would seem to be up!
He had better change the message immediately. As for his own future, suddenly it looked very seriously in doubt.
Amanda clutched the sill and slowly rose to the edge of the window and peeped through into the seemingly innocuous room where so much mischief had been hatched. At last this place was about to be revealed for the den of falsehood it was.
“Do you recognize anyone, Miss Rutherford?” Churchill asked.
“It’s Mr. Barclay!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “I don’t know any of the others—”
Suddenly a gasp escaped her lips.
“What is it?” asked Churchill.
“Ramsay Halifax is there too!”
“What about his mother?”
“No, I don’t see her.”
Amanda glanced around the room, shaking her head.
“Well, those two will be enough to put an end to this espionage ring and shut down this lighthouse for good. That’s what I wanted to know. I didn’t want to move until we could be confident of nabbing the ringleaders.”
“Wait,” said Amanda, “—another two men just entered from another room. But . . . no, I’ve never seen either of them before.”
“Let’s go. Langham, you take three men and climb the lighthouse and arrest whoever’s up there and put a stop to those signals.”
“Yes, sir,” whispered the lieutenant, motioning to several of the men kneeling behind them.
“The rest of us will bust up this little party inside.”