The Secret Agent

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  ‘I can’t just stop working,’ she said. She started walking again, and Dieter fell in beside her.

  ‘Of course you can. I can arrange matters so that Herr Julien sees the advantage of letting you come with me.’ Dieter reached for her hands again and his lips curved into a smile that was not completely pleasant. ‘After welcoming me to your jazz music night, I am sure he would not deny me the chance to take you with me. He is my friend now, after all, and I’m sure he would wish to remain so.’

  His voice had hardened. Sylvie wondered if he even knew it had changed, but arranging matters now had a sinister sound to it. Was it a threat? At his touch, ripples of disgust raced over her skin where they hadn’t before, like cobweb-winged moths.

  ‘Please don’t push me for an answer now,’ she pleaded. ‘You have given me so much to think of.’

  ‘If you wish. But please let me know your answer soon. I shall need to speak to my friend and arrange matters.’

  ‘I must go,’ Sylvie said. ‘I need to get ready for tonight. I have another new dance and I want to rehearse it with the other girls.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dieter said, all genuine smiles now. ‘I can’t come to watch you, but I will be thinking of you.’

  He turned to go, then paused and looked round, the boyish charm back again. ‘When we danced to the jazz music, I felt something I had never felt before. I hope one day you will feel it too.’

  She had felt something when she was dancing to the jazz, but not in Dieter’s arms. Did that mean she loved Felix? She was uncertain, but if Felix had invited her to Paris, she would not have hesitated for a moment. She couldn’t tell Dieter that.

  She gave him a gentle smile. ‘Who can say?’

  He muttered something under his breath and rocked on his feet as if uncertain whether to move. He strode back to Sylvie, took her head in his hands and kissed her. It was not a good kiss. Even if she had been prepared and willing, he was clumsy, his lips bruising and tongue too eager. She let him do it, too shocked to object. He pulled back and smiled at her, pleased with himself and blithely unaware of Sylvie’s discomfort.

  ‘I should have kissed you like that before instead of being timid.’

  He moved in again, this time cupping the back of her head with one hand and fumbling into the rolls of hair at the side. He leaned her backward, so she had to cling onto him in order to keep her balance, as if he was a hero in a film, while his tongue explored her mouth. Finally, he released her and stroked a hand down her cheek.

  ‘Don’t tell me you feel nothing now.’

  She couldn’t speak to answer him. That was the worst part. He looked pleased, as if he believed her muteness was because she was overwhelmed by pleasure. She was beginning to get a headache, the pressure building at the back of her neck.

  ‘I’ll be waiting for your answer. My Soldatenheim is on Avenue Saint-Luce. When you wish to contact me come there and ask for me.’

  He strode off with a spring in his step. Sylvie watched him go and sank onto the grass by the lake. She wanted to be sick from revulsion. And fear. There had been a definite threat in his words. Unspoken and perhaps unintentional, but there, nevertheless. She needed to inform Antoine and Marcel as quickly as she could. Tomas had been correct: the club was not a safe place to be, for her or perhaps for anyone.

  Before she could warn Marcel, she had to make her delivery of film to the bookshop. She made her way back to Allée du Port Maillard. By now, as she had hoped, the street was almost deserted. A couple of planks had been nailed over the doorway of the dress shop. A scrawny tortoiseshell cat sat outside, miaowing plaintively to be let in. Sylvie gave it a scratch behind the ear, and it twined round her legs. For one moment, she considered taking it home, but Madame Giraud would draw the line at a cat roaming about the house.

  The handwritten sign on the door informed customers that the bookshop was closed, but through the window Sylvie could see Monsieur Tombée was sitting at his lectern reading. She tapped gently on the glass, and he beckoned her in.

  ‘Mademoiselle? May I help you?’

  They had met only days before, but he gave no indication that he recognised Sylvie. Nor would he until she gave the password.

  ‘Do you have any books for young children?’

  Monsieur Tombée peered at her over his glasses. ‘What should they be about?’

  ‘Something with angels in it,’ Sylvie replied.

  He smiled and slipped off his stool, brushing down his waistcoat and trousers.

  ‘I might have something in the back room. Please come and see.’

  Sylvie followed him through into a small room that was piled high with books from floor to ceiling. She dug the package of film out and handed it to him. He ran his fingers along a shelf, pulled a volume down and opened it. The book was false with a compartment inside. Once the film was safely inside, he put the book back.

  ‘Are you all right, my dear? You look pale,’ he asked.

  Sylvie touched her cheek. The memory of Dieter’s hands forcing her head back made her shudder. Her headache was getting worse, spiteful fingers burrowing into her brain.

  ‘It has been a trying day. I came here earlier and I witnessed what happened to your neighbours. It seemed safer to wait until now. Has there been any news of them?’

  Monsieur Tombée shook his head. ‘I have known Madame and Mademoiselle Brodeur for years, and to think I was completely unaware of what they were doing. If I had known, I could have helped them. So many people are keeping secrets from our enemy that the result is our friends can’t tell us when they need aid.’

  He removed his glasses and wiped them on a pristine white handkerchief. ‘I think this had better be my last collection for a while. I wouldn’t want everyone’s brave work put at risk if the milice come sniffing around again.’

  ‘I’ll pass that on to Marcel,’ Sylvie promised. He was right; as soon as a location was possibly compromised, it was not safe to keep using it.

  As she opened the door, the cat dashed between her legs and leapt onto the lectern. Monsieur Tombée rubbed it on the head.

  ‘I’ll feed this boy until they return. It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Do you think they will be back?’ Sylvie asked.

  He gave Sylvie a sad smile. ‘Not really. They were very courageous women, mademoiselle, but I think their journey has come to an end.’

  He walked to Sylvie and took her by the hand.

  ‘I sense that you are courageous too, and I wish you better luck than they had.’

  ‘And you, monsieur,’ she whispered. ‘May we both be the fortunate ones.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By the time Sylvie arrived at Mirabelle. her headache was so bad she felt as if she was going into shock. Her head was being squeezed in a vice, and the world seemed too bright. She managed to hold herself together long enough to sneak into the changing room, then sank onto a stool before bursting into tears.

  ‘Sylvie!’

  She had thought the room was empty, but Emily was in the comfy armchair tucked away in the corner, reading a book. She gave a cry of astonishment, closed her book with a snap and threw her arms round Sylvie.

  ‘What’s wrong? Have you been hurt? Threatened? Assaulted? Was it a man?’

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense.’ Sylvie sobbed, unable to work out which of Emily’s jumble of questions she was answering. Emily’s embrace was comforting, but there were other arms she craved. More urgently, she needed to share what had happened to her.

  ‘I need to speak to Antoine. Will you fetch him for me, please?’ She couldn’t ask for Felix too.

  If Emily was surprised at the use of Monsieur Julien’s first name, she didn’t show it. She left and returned with the club owner shortly afterwards. He took one look at Sylvie and fear flashed across his face. He spoke without looking back.

  ‘Emily, my sweet, please go get Sylvie a brandy. She’s had a shock.’

  As soon as Emily
left, he dragged a stool to Sylvie’s side and whispered urgently.

  ‘You were meeting Baumann, weren’t you? What happened? Are we in danger?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Possibly we are. There have been developments. I need to tell Marcel as well. He was like a stranger. It was horrible.’

  Antoine squeezed her knee reassuringly. ‘I know where Marcel lives. I’ll go myself as soon as Emily brings you a drink. I will not be more than ten minutes.’

  Emily returned carrying a glass of brandy, closely followed by Felix. His eyes met Sylvie’s, and he froze.

  ‘I got Felix too,’ Emily said. ‘When Sylvie implied that there was a man involved, I remembered the German you had trouble with before.’

  Felix squeezed Emily’s shoulder and she tailed off. Sylvie dropped her head. She had not thought their involvement so obvious that Emily would automatically summon Felix to deal with her distress. Again, she felt Emily’s scrutiny. The girl was far too concerned with what Felix did.

  ‘Thank you, Emily,’ Antoine said. ‘Sylvie, I think you need some more air. The window in this room is too small. Come with me upstairs, and we’ll leave Emily to her book. Felix, will you carry the brandy for Sylvie, please?’

  He took Sylvie by the arm and wheeled her to the door before she could protest.

  ‘Take her up to your room. Don’t leave her,’ he instructed Felix.

  ‘As if I would!’ Felix squeezed her hand tightly to the point of discomfort.

  ‘I’ll go get Marcel. Is it safe for him to come here?’

  ‘Yes, for now,’ Sylvie answered. ‘But please go quickly.’

  Felix peered anxiously at her. ‘Sylvie, can you walk? Do you need me to carry you? For God’s sake, tell me if you are injured. Do you need to lie down?’

  She wiggled her hand loose a little and gave him a smile she hoped was confident.

  ‘Yes, I can walk. No, I’m not hurt. I have a headache. I don’t need to lie down.’

  Emily had come out of the dressing room. Her eyes were large and anxious.

  ‘Felix, what’s happening? Are you in danger?’

  Felix turned back to her and, to Sylvie’s surprise, he took her face and kissed her on the top of the head. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. Or mention to anyone. Go on now.’

  Emily went back into the dressing toom and Sylvie followed Felix upstairs. Had it only been yesterday morning she had left there after making love with him? She sat at Felix’s table, and he pushed the brandy into her hand. He knelt at her side and took hold of her other hand, more gently this time.

  ‘Did you come here from your meeting with Baumann? Did he not believe our story?’

  Sylvie sipped the brandy before answering. It warmed as it went down, reviving her spirits a little.

  ‘He believes it. That’s not the problem. He told me he loves me and wanted to know if I feel the same.’

  ‘Do you?’

  The interruption was curt. Urgent. Felix began to pace round the room.

  ‘Of course I don’t. I told him so as kindly as I could. Then he said he wants me to go to Paris with him to see if I can start to love him there. When I refused, he started threatening me. Threatening Antoine. At least I think it was a threat. Then he kissed me, but not like before. Roughly.’

  There was a loud thump. Sylvie jerked her head up. Felix had banged his fist against the wall. His face was thunderous.

  ‘You should have let me kill him when I had the chance.’ He came back to Sylvie’s side and wrapped his arms around her. He held her to his chest, and she could feel the thump of his heart through his shirt.

  She felt Felix’s arms a cage around her. No, not a cage, because that suggested she would want to break free. A refuge. She was content to be held for as long as he would hold her.

  ‘I felt a little better now. The brandy is working. I feel silly for making such a fuss. Fancy crying!’

  ‘There is no shame in crying,’ Felix said. ‘The shock can do that.’

  There was a cautious knock on the door, then Antoine and Marcel entered. Again, Sylvie tolerated their concerned questions.

  ‘Did he hurt you?’ Marcel asked. ‘Tell me everything that happened.’

  ‘When I arrived at the bookshop, there was an arrest.’ She repeated her story from start to finish. ‘Do you know the women?’

  ‘Nothing to do with any cell I know of,’ Marcel said. ‘It’s a damned bad coincidence they happened to be next door to Monsieur Tombée’s place. He’s been useful. Tell me about the encounter with Dieter.’

  Marcel and Antoine exchanged worried looks as she mentioned Dieter’s reference to the jazz night and Antoine accommodating his wishes.

  ‘It won’t be safe to use the club from now on,’ Marcel said.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was stupid to invite him in,’ Sylvie said.

  Antoine shook his head. ‘The damage was done the moment he discovered we were here at all. That cursed light gave us away. I am to blame for that.’

  Felix crossed his arms. He had left Sylvie’s side as soon as the other men arrived and had taken position by the door. ‘Let us agree it was an unfortunate series of events and no one is to blame. The question is, how does Sylvie deal with his proposal without endangering herself?’

  ‘I don’t think I am in danger,’ she said thoughtfully. Now she was safe in the company of friends, she was able to look at it with clarity. ‘I offended him and hurt his pride. He was clumsy. I don’t think he meant to hurt me, and I’m not sure his threats are real.’

  She ran her hands through her hair, remembering the way Dieter’s fingers had gripped into it.

  ‘How could he tell me he loves me?’ she exclaimed. ‘We barely know each other. I think that’s what upset him most, when I told him it wasn’t possible to love somebody after a few weeks.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Felix asked in a voice that was low and husky. His arms tightened across his body, the muscles in his forearms visibly tensing. ‘Don’t you think that’s possible?’

  Sylvie looked into his eyes. Hadn’t she felt what Dieter had described when she danced with Felix? Didn’t she long to be with him now? She’d even considered giving up everything in England to stay near him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘Perhaps it is. But not with him.’

  She became aware of a gentle pressure on her arm and looked round to find Antoine smiling at her knowingly. ‘So we conclude Sylvie does not love this German – which I am sure we are all relieved to discover – but what now?’ he said.

  Marcel sucked his teeth. ‘You mentioned he wants to take you to Paris. Let me contact England and see what they say. There could be an advantage to you going.’

  ‘You can’t mean for her to go with him?’ Felix exclaimed.

  Marcel held up his hand. ‘I’m not sure. It might be the best thing to do. There are cells in Paris, so it might be an opportunity for Sylvie to gather information. If Baumann is growing suspicious or decides to be vindictive, then clearing him out of the way for a holiday would be better for all of us.’

  ‘Not for Sylvie. I can’t imagine he’s thinking of separate rooms.’ Felix turned his eyes on her. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  She said nothing. Her stomach had contracted painfully when Marcel had spoken, but what he said made sense. She was here to do a job. She’d said to Max and Vera she was prepared to give everything to the job.

  ‘You don’t want to go, do you?’ Felix said, his voice filled with disbelief.

  ‘No, of course I don’t, but when I took this role, the people who recruited me warned me I might have to do things I’d find unpalatable. I told him I would do what is necessary. If that means I have to take Dieter out of the way to keep everyone else safe, I will.’

  Felix shook his head violently, then paced around the room. ‘This is what comes of being soft-hearted. I said you should have let me kill him the other night.’

  ‘And if you had done that, where would we would all be
now, tell me?’ Sylvie snapped.

  ‘Have courage,’ Marcel said. ‘Remember I said we’ve had notice to expect more airdrops? A strike of some sort is being planned. Perhaps there will be no need for you to do anything after all.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Sylvie said. ‘I hope so.’

  Marcel shook her hand.

  ‘I need to go. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have work for you. I’m glad you seem more yourself again. You gave me quite a scare when Antoine appeared at the door.’

  Marcel and Antoine left. Sylvie went to follow him, but Felix caught her by the hand and held her back. She turned and found herself swung straight into his arms.

  ‘You came here crying,’ he growled. ‘That is what his kiss did to you, and now you suggest that you would be prepared to make love to him?’

  ‘I never said that. There is a difference between going to bed with someone and making love, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes there is. I know you’ll do what you have to, I just want you to be safe. I … care for you, Sylvie.’

  ‘I know. I care for you too.’ She touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes. His face creased into softness; both unbearable and exhilarating to see. She felt tears rising again. The hopelessness of her predicament was bearing down again. ‘I don’t want to go to bed with Dieter. I don’t want to do anything with him.’

  Felix kissed her on the corner of her mouth. ‘Do you want to stay for the night after the show has finished?’

  ‘I want nothing more, but I don’t think I should,’ she said. ‘Céline already wondered where I had been the other night, and last night I didn’t get in until far too late. I don’t want anyone else getting suspicious.’

  She rubbed her eyes. She needed a decent night’s sleep. No wonder her head was throbbing.

  ‘Perhaps I do need to lie down for a little while.’

  ‘One minute.’

  Felix shook the bedclothes and smoothed them down, then to Sylvie’s astonishment he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down on top of the sheets, then climbed in beside her and lay back, hooking his hands behind his head. Sylvie rested her head into the triangle of space created by his arm and body.