“Who was the woman on the patio?” he asked without preamble. She took a breath, still unsure about what to do. He added sharply, “And don’t lie to me.”
A knock sounded on the door before she could answer.
His face tightened. He cast the door an impatient look, then, when the knock was repeated, said something under his breath that she guessed was a curse and went to answer it.
From where she stood in front of the window, Genevieve couldn’t see the door, which was located in its own small alcove. She heard Max open it—and then nothing. Max didn’t say anything. No one said anything.
A moment later the click of footsteps was followed by the sound of the closing door.
Emmy walked into view, with Max looming not far behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“There’s been a problem,” Emmy said as their eyes met across the room. She looked beautiful and composed in her eau de Nil coat, with its brown fur trim and matching hat that had her newly short curls rioting beneath it, but Genevieve read anxiety in the faint line between her eyes. Her pulse quickened. To have her sister, who’d been so adamant about the need for secrecy and concealment, walk into her hotel suite with Max present and say such a thing, the situation must be dire.
“Genevieve,” Max said. She’d been focusing all her horrified attention on Emmy. Now her gaze switched to him. He was looking beyond grim. No trace of the charming, compassionate lover who’d coaxed her secrets from her and wooed her into losing her heart to him was to be seen in the hard gaze he turned on her. “Care to introduce us?”
Genevieve’s stomach twisted. Their love was so new. It was like a nestling that had barely tested its wings. After last night, after everything that had passed between them, for him to find out that she’d been working behind his back while keeping vital information from him might, she feared, do it serious damage. She could only pray it wouldn’t deal it a blow from which it couldn’t recover.
Her lips parted, and then she hesitated and glanced at Emmy. The time for lying was clearly past, but...
“I wouldn’t have come,” Emmy said to her, “but I had no choice. The situation’s changed drastically. To have any chance of saving Maman, we’re going to have to move fast. And we’re going to need his help.”
“Maman?” Max looked from Emmy to Genevieve. “Maman?”
Her pulse quickened and her chest went tight as she sought a way to ease into it, to soften the truth, but there wasn’t one.
“This is my sister,” Genevieve said. “That friend I’ve been meeting whose name I wouldn’t give you? It was actually her.”
“Emmy Granville,” Emmy said. “I’m with the SOE, too. Code name Merlin. You can check with Tommy Bowden at Baker Street if you have doubts.”
Max shot a blistering look at Genevieve. She knew what it meant: You told her about me?
“I had to.” Feeling increasingly wretched, Genevieve answered his silent accusation. “There was a situation...” She broke off and looked at Emmy. The time to worry about her and Max would come later. For now the focus had to be on Lillian. “What’s happened?”
“The rescue attempt failed. They’ve taken her somewhere else.”
“Oh, no—”
“Stop right there. I want to know what you’re talking about. Everything.” Max’s voice was sharp.
“We need him,” Emmy repeated to Genevieve, and, even as Genevieve succumbed to an inner wince, looked at Max. “Our mother is part of the Resistance. She’s been arrested by the Nazis. She knows the truth about where the upcoming Allied invasion is to be launched, and they suspect she knows, and if she isn’t rescued immediately, they will succeed in torturing it out of her.”
Max looked thunderstruck. “She knows the truth about where the invasion is to be launched?” He turned to Genevieve. “What’s your mother’s name?”
There was no help for it. And he knew now, or soon would, anyway: she could see the dawning realization in his eyes. After all, he was looking for her mother himself, for just that reason. How many women could the Nazis be holding with that information?
Genevieve put up her chin. “Baroness Lillian de Rocheford.”
Max’s face was a study in growing, angry comprehension. “Lillian de Rocheford is your mother?” His voice sounded like it was being dredged up from somewhere deep in his gut.
“I was born Genevra de Rocheford.” Genevieve’s voice was flat. She’d known from the moment Emmy had walked into the suite that there was no way this was going to go well, and the reality was even worse than expected.
For a moment he simply looked at her. Then he said, “And you didn’t tell me?” His voice was expressionless now. Like his face. He glanced at Emmy. “Now that I’m looking for it, I can see the resemblance. It’s in the eyes.”
Genevieve drew in a breath. She knew that face, that voice. “Max—”
“We’ll talk later,” he said. There was an undercurrent to it that sent ice down her spine. She would have said more, crossed to him, grabbed him by the lapels, shaken him, something, until the cold distance had vanished from his eyes, except Emmy was there and he was already shutting her out to focus on her sister. “Am I right in assuming you were part of Touvier’s attempt to rescue the baroness two nights ago?”
“Yes,” Emmy said.
“What happened?”
“We suspected that Wagner was in charge of her interrogation and followed him until our suspicions were confirmed, and we found the secret prison where she was being held. We watched him let himself in with a key, then identify himself to the guards stationed inside. The plan was that, at a time when Wagner was occupied elsewhere, some of our men wearing SS uniforms would let themselves in with a key, which we hoped would allay the suspicions of the guards, and remove my mother from the premises. If they were challenged, they were to present forged papers ordering that she be given over to them for transport to another location. Unfortunately, in the middle of the operation something went wrong. They were found out. They’re all dead, I think. Everyone in Touvier’s cell.”
Genevieve knew from the sudden flicker of Max’s eyes that he had no intention of telling Emmy what had actually happened to Touvier. She knew she, herself, would never tell anyone, not even Emmy. An act of revenge from a partisan who’d been close to Touvier wasn’t likely, but it was possible, and the thought of bringing such danger down on Max made her shudder.
“Not everyone,” Max said. “I understand that Jacques Helian escaped with his life.”
“Did he?” Emmy’s face tightened. When she spoke, her words were slow and thoughtful. “He was Touvier’s second in command. He knew about Papa’s cell—I remember Papa once spoke of meeting with him instead of Touvier. If he got away—”
“He could be the traitor.”
“My God, the one who betrayed Papa?” Genevieve’s heart thumped.
“And the operation to rescue Maman,” Emmy said. She looked at Max. “He needs to be found. And questioned, at the very least.”
Max gave a curt nod. “I’ll put the word out. He knows nothing of me. Does he know about you?”
Emmy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Let’s hope not,” Max said. “You were there at the rescue attempt?”
Emmy shook her head. “I helped with the planning, and I made the key, but I was waiting elsewhere for them to bring my mother to me. I’ve been on the move since I found out they were discovered. The gestapo are sweeping the city for anyone connected with that network, and you can never be sure where is safe, or who to trust. Helian being a case in point. I never would have thought...” She narrowed her eyes at Max. “How did you hear of it?”
“There are people who talk to me.” Max’s answer was evasive, and he was frowning as he asked, “What made you suspect Wagner could lead you to the baroness?”
Emmy didn’t say anything. From her si
lence, and the way she didn’t glance her way, Genevieve knew that she guessed that Max wasn’t going to like the answer, and she didn’t want to cause what she obviously deduced would be additional difficulties for her sister.
“I told her.” At this point there was nothing left to do but tell the truth. Max might be angry, but there was more at stake here than their relationship. “Wagner had our mother’s locket. I saw it when he took me to dinner that first time, and I recognized it. That was the message I took to rue Duphot. To Emmy.” Max’s lips thinned, but before he could say anything else, she added, “And just to make a clean breast of it, I also helped her get hold of Wagner’s key.”
“How?” His voice held an ominous note.
“By staging a distraction that last night I went to dinner with him so she could grab it and make a copy of it.”
“What kind of distraction?”
“I fell down the stairs outside the theater. Emmy was there, pretending to be a fan.”
Max said nothing, but the stony glint in his eyes told her how much he objected to that. She was relieved when he turned his attention to Emmy.
“The baroness has been moved, did you say? To where?”
Emmy frowned. “I don’t know.”
“If Wagner has her still,” Genevieve said, “I may know where she is. He sent me a message, apologizing for having to cancel dinner. He said that an emergency had called him away to Stuttgart.”
“Stuttgart,” Emmy said, in the same tone she might have used for hell.
“That makes sense,” Max said. Although something about it made his face go sour.
“What?” Genevieve looked from one to the other of them.
“When female prisoners are taken there,” Emmy said, her voice sounding hollow, “it’s usually because they intend to execute them immediately. Executing French women in France tends to make the Germans unpopular with the locals. They can execute them without repercussions in Stuttgart. They even have a guillotine in the prison courtyard for that very purpose.”
Genevieve’s stomach dropped. “As soon as she talks—”
“Yes.” Emmy looked at Max. “The bastards will make her talk, and then they’ll cut off her head. Traveling into Germany is difficult just now, but we have to find a way to get to her. Right away, because I’m guessing we don’t have much time.”
“What if we don’t have any time? How long can she possibly hold out against the things they do to people? If she’s with Wagner, she’s already in Stuttgart. What if they’ve...” Genevieve couldn’t bring herself to finish. She shied away from even thinking about it.
Max said, “I’ve been told the baroness is injured to the point where she can’t communicate. They’re waiting until she’s better to start actively interrogating her. Which was why I was taking the time to plan an operation to reach her that wouldn’t have failed.”
“Touvier’s timing, not mine.” Emmy’s reply was in response to the censure in his voice. Her tone turned urgent as she added, “In Wagner, our mother is in the hands of one of the most brutal torturers in the SS. He will make her talk. You know how vital it is that she doesn’t reveal what she knows to the Germans. We must find her and get her out of there. I know your reputation. The Huntsman is practically a legend. Will you help us?”
Max looked from one to the other of them. Finally, in a tone gritty with resignation, he replied, “Yes.”
Relief and a rush of gratitude toward Max washed through Genevieve. “I can ring him up. Wagner. Tell him I have a few days free and see if I can get him to invite me to visit him. He will, I’m sure of it.”
“No,” Max said. “Tensions are running too high, and too much could go wrong. You’d be going into the belly of the beast, and at the worst possible time. You’re keeping to the plan we agreed on earlier. I’ll find a way to get myself and enough people to do the job into Stuttgart without you.”
“They’re scrutinizing everyone coming into Germany,” Emmy warned. “They’re going mad with fear of spies, and of dissidents from within rising up and conspiring with the Allies. Genny’s idea is a good one. It will take us right to where we need to go without creating any suspicion. She should definitely ring the bastard up.”
“No,” Max said again. “First of all, if she’s calling him, that’ll immediately raise a red flag in his head. Then, when his prize prisoner is snatched away while she’s there, I think he’s going to guess she might have had something to do with it.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Emmy sounded impatient.
“Like I said, leave me to deal with it.”
“No,” both girls said in unison.
“If you thought you could get the job done on your own, you wouldn’t be here,” Max said to Emmy. He switched his attention to Genevieve. “You’re going to Spain.”
“I’m not going to Spain. I’m going to Stuttgart, if I can wrangle an invitation,” Genevieve said. “I’m your best chance of getting close to Wagner.”
“He wants to leave us behind because killing Maman will be far easier than rescuing her, and he thinks we’ll interfere with that,” Emmy said.
Max’s eyes rested on Emmy’s face. From their non-expression, Genevieve knew Emmy was exactly right.
“Touvier was right about one thing. I read the message you got from London. The one concealed in the cigarettes he left in your office. You were ordered to kill my mother if you couldn’t rescue her.” Genevieve gave him a level look. “Tell me you won’t kill her.”
Their eyes met. “I won’t,” he said.
Emmy scoffed. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for it?”
“I don’t see that you have any choice.” Max’s voice hardened as he looked at her. “If we’re going to work together, you need to get one thing clear—this is my operation. I’m in charge.”
“Just because you’re a man—” Emmy began, but Max cut her off.
“Not because I’m a man. Because Baker Street gave me the assignment. And because I’m your superior officer. Major Max Ryan.”
The look on Emmy’s face told Genevieve that Max had scored a point. Then Emmy gave a stiff nod, and she was sure.
“Max.” Genevieve gave him a troubled look. “You really won’t kill Maman, will you?”
Max hesitated for just long enough for her to know the answer. He must have seen the recognition of the truth in her eyes, because his jaw tightened. “I’ll do my best to rescue her, I promise. If we reach her and she can’t be saved, the unpleasant fact is I may have to kill her. If I were to find myself forced to do such a thing, it will only be because there is absolutely no other way, and she’ll still be far better off than if she’s left to the tender mercies of Wagner and the Germans.” He paused. “Will you trust me to do my best to save her, Genevieve?”
Their eyes held for a minute. Then Genevieve nodded.
Emmy rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, I thought you said you two didn’t have a personal relationship.”
“Does it matter? I trust him, and you can, too.”
The sisters exchanged measuring glances.
“Fine,” Emmy said. She looked at Max. “Although I want to go on record as saying I will do anything possible to rescue her.”
“I have no objection to that,” Max said. “I’ll do everything possible to rescue her, too.”
After that, they debated possible courses of action until Max ordered the discussion tabled until later. It was agreed that Emmy would go to a safe house Max knew of in the Bois de Boulogne and stay there until 4:00 p.m., when the three of them would meet up again in the nearby public gardens and make further plans. After that, Genevieve had to head to the theater for her final show, which, given the events of the previous night, she dreaded.
“You will make sure to be there as agreed, won’t you?” Emmy whispered into her ear as they embraced before she left. “Your Max
seems to like to do things independently, and I don’t want him leaving me behind.”
“I’ll make sure,” Genevieve promised. She didn’t even object to Emmy’s calling him “your Max” now. Because he was, even if he was clearly still not happy with her.
When Emmy had gone, he came to stand over her. She was sitting in the chair by the sofa and had to look up at him.
“Genevra de Rocheford,” he said. “That’s quite a web of deceit you’ve spun. Is there anything else you’d care to tell me?”
Genevieve sighed. “I’m Genevieve Dumont now. I haven’t been Genevra since I first left France. Everything I told you last night is true. I just held back the names. When I heard Touvier talking about Baron and Baroness de Rocheford—my parents—it shocked me. I thought I was done with them forever, but...it turns out I wasn’t. That day I was gone all day? I went to Rocheford, our old home near Cherbourg, to see if my mother might have taken refuge in a secret place she liked to go to that I knew of there. That’s where I learned that Emmy was with the SOE. We’ve been in contact since then, about finding our mother.”
“You couldn’t have told me any of this?”
“I couldn’t talk about it. After—” She broke off, pressed her lips together, swallowed. After not being able to speak her daughter’s name for so many years, she was still getting used to saying it out loud.
“After Vivi died,” she went on, carefully enunciating each syllable of her child’s name. The painful constriction in her chest that was there every time she thought of her little girl hadn’t disappeared, but it was better. She could still talk; she could still breathe. And she could speak Vivi’s name. “I needed to put everything about my past behind me. My family was part of that.”
She didn’t know what her face revealed, but his mouth twisted with wry acceptance and his eyes softened.
“All right, I understand. Still, no more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” she agreed.
He bent, slid a hand behind her neck, dropped a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. She kissed him back, then when he broke it off and straightened, she stood up, too, wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to press against him, kissing him like she would never stop, kissing him until her knees went wobbly and the butterflies that apparently now lived in her stomach whenever he was around took loopy flight.
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