by Kate Breslin
At the appointed hour, he rapped on the door to 211. Once Marcus ushered him inside and closed the door, Colin shared with him his theory from the train. “The name J. Reyer from our enemy watch list belongs to Jewel and Johanna’s father, Jacob.”
“You might have a future as an agent for the Crown, Mabry.” Marcus’s gaze held approval. “Now, take a seat while I finish unpacking.”
Colin sat down on the divan, similar to the one in his room. “After reading Jewel’s diary, Johanna and I assumed her father was a French soldier being held in some prison camp, and that Kepler knew which one. If so, then why are we in neutral Spain?”
Marcus shut the doors to the armoire and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. His glance flicked to the closed window before he lowered his voice and faced Colin. “Jacob Reyer is not in a POW camp, nor is he with the French Army.” He leaned forward. “The truth is, he is a German spy known to us as Zero. And he wishes to defect.”
“Johanna’s father . . . an enemy agent?” Colin stared at him, incredulous. “How is that possible?”
“I won’t go into detail, but his condition of surrender was the safe return of his daughter. In return for Jewel, he promised to give the Allies a prize worth a king’s ransom.”
Colin inched forward on the divan. “How will you manage to return Jewel to him? He’s going to discover the woman in black is the actress—” Colin suddenly rose to his feet. “Johanna! You found out she was Jacob Reyer’s daughter, and now you plan to use her as the bait.”
“Take it easy, Colin. Sit down, so I can explain.”
Grudgingly, Colin obeyed. Marcus clasped his hands in front of him. “G-2 chose to continue the ruse after Jewel’s death because they hoped Zero would keep his end of the bargain and retrieve the prize from its hiding place. The Americans have had agents scouting for him for months, and the plan was to confiscate the prize from him before he learned the fate of his daughter.
“So far the plan has failed because Zero has managed to elude them all and still holds the prize. I didn’t learn about Jewel’s death until I arrived in Toulouse days ago and spoke with G-2. It was then I also learned of Johanna Reyer’s existence.” He paused. “She became our only chance to salvage the mission.”
Marcus stared at the floor. “Zero and I are somewhat acquainted. We met last year when he was posing as a journalist. He called me into this arrangement because he trusts me and wanted me to find out if Kepler had his daughter in Toulouse. Once I confirmed the information, he set up the place and time of the meeting.”
“But you lied to him.”
“No, I told him a specific truth.” His brown eyes held a challenge. “That his daughter was in Toulouse.”
Colin frowned. “But you meant Johanna, not Jewel.”
“Zero doesn’t know that. Anyway, I gave the order to Kepler to come to Spain.”
“At Le Bibent.”
Marcus smiled. “Believe me, I was just as surprised to see you.”
“And you placed his instructions beneath the vase of violets?”
Marcus nodded. “Once he took off with our decoy, Petit was to make certain Johanna followed. He later told me the only way she would go willingly was if you accompanied her. That’s why he kept up the pretense that you were following Jewel.”
“That bounder drugged me twice!” Colin leaned forward, scowling. “Once in Toulouse, and then two nights ago in Portbou, before he took off with Johanna.”
Marcus bent his head. “I apologize. It was my instruction to delay you while they made for Barcelona. I’d hoped you would simply tire of the chase and go home.” He glanced up. “I should have known better. You weren’t injured in any way?”
“Only my dignity.”
He growled the words, and Marcus grinned. “I’ve been told that the men recruited for the American Corps of Intelligence Police come from all walks of life. Many are considered wild cards—high-stakes gamblers like Petit, or madcaps and stuntmen. Some have previous criminal records.”
Colin’s jaw dropped. “The Americans employ criminals over here?”
“Of course not. The men go through intensive screening. In the end, those hired are dedicated to flushing out enemy spies in Europe and to winning the war for the Allies. But they are chosen from those backgrounds because G-2 needs the kind of men who will do whatever it takes to get the job done.”
“But I am not the enemy.”
“So consider yourself lucky.” Marcus sat back. “Petit could have had you arrested in Portbou as a spy, or tied you up and left you under the pier. I wouldn’t put either past him.” He offered a smile. “In any case, I stayed behind to make certain you were in one piece. And to demand your return to Paris, for all the good it did me.”
Colin’s thoughts flashed back to his meeting with Petit at the Toulouse park. Colin was the one who had told the American that Johanna was Jewel’s sister, and hours later, Petit had sent them off to spy on Kepler at Le Bibent, knowing the agent would be alone. Knowing he could keep his two bloodhounds on the scent.
He ground his teeth, turning his anger on Marcus. “You allowed us to be played. All this time, Johanna and I have been pawns in some elaborate, secret plan.”
“Call it what you will.” Marcus’s eyes blazed. “You of all people should know we’ve already lost too many good men in this war. The prize we’re after will remove a considerable amount of leverage from the enemy and hopefully hasten their defeat.”
With that, the captain’s anger fled, and he sighed, rising from his seat on the bed. “The plan may not even work. Everything depends on Zero’s reaction to the death of one daughter and his acceptance of the other. We can only hope he will still agree to the bargain we’ve struck.”
“What is this prize?”
“I cannot say, but trust me, it’s extremely valuable and needs to be in our possession.”
As Colin sifted through Marcus’s words, he realized that, whatever the prize, at least two Allied countries were working to get their hands on it. And if it would help to bring about a swift end to the war . . . “When does the meeting with Zero take place?”
“Kepler will take Johanna to meet with her father tomorrow.”
“Will it be here in the city? On La Rambla?”
Marcus shook his head. “Zero has chosen the spot. The caves of Sant Sever, near the Salnitre Caves at Collbató and Montserrat. About fifty kilometers north of Barcelona.”
Caves. Colin’s skin flashed hot and cold as he imagined a series of cramped, dark spaces. Like Passchendaele. He swallowed. “I want to see her first.”
“I don’t know where she is staying.”
Alarmed, Colin rose to stare at Marcus. “But I thought you said Johanna was here?”
“She is here. Petit already knows the time and place of the meeting with Zero. He and G-2 are making all of the arrangements with Kepler for tomorrow.”
“I need to know she’s all right, Marcus. Johanna sent me the message—”
“I understand.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to be at the consulate for a meeting in fifteen minutes. Afterward I’ll see Petit and find out where she is.”
More waiting. Colin forced a smile. “I appreciate it.”
Marcus smiled knowingly. “I realize you care about her.” The two of them started toward the door. “And believe me, it is in everyone’s best interest to ensure Miss Reyer remains safe.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” The assurance eased Colin’s apprehension, despite his dislike of Petit.
They exited into the hall. “I’ll see you later.” As Marcus strode off, Colin followed at a slower pace, a plan taking shape in his mind. He wasn’t about to sit in his room waiting for word about Johanna. Besides, the captain hadn’t given him any specific orders to the contrary.
Determination quickened his steps as he headed back to his room for the other jacket.
Colin was about to take matters into his own hands.
CHAPTER
24
&
nbsp; Jo raised the rifle to the window and flipped off the safety as Moira had shown her.
Smoke from the shop fire stung her eyes as she brought the tall soldier into her sights. Despite bullets flying, he brazenly remained where he stood, his rifle aimed for another shot at her mother.
He must have seen Jo then; he turned his aim slightly, and through the haze, their eyes locked.
A scream tore from her lungs as she squeezed the trigger, and gunfire seemed to explode around her as a barrage of bullets flew in her direction. Mindless with fear, she dropped down against the wall and drew back the bolt to load another shot. As she frantically worked to shove the bolt back into place, she raised herself up enough to glance out the window.
The soldier went down just as a flash of gunfire burst from the open shop door. Moira lay there on her belly, her smoking rifle still poised.
More gunfire erupted, and Jo dropped the rifle, crawling to where Moira was dragging herself inside to lean against the door.
Rage and pain ravaged her mother’s sooty face. The front of her uniform was soaked in blood.
“Mama.” The cry came out hoarse from the smoke, and Jo struggled with a fit of coughing as she grabbed for her petticoat, intending to staunch the bleeding.
A red-smeared hand reached for her. “Never mind that, girl. ’Tis . . . too late.”
Jo stared at the hand while memories flooded her mind: her head being cradled as she’d slept, the gentle ruffling of her hair before another of Moira’s secret departures to Dublin.
“Go.” Moira’s breathing had turned erratic. “Find your father . . . in France.”
Tears welled in Jo’s eyes. “I won’t leave you.”
“Barrett . . . at the dock in Kilcoole. He has . . . money for you, and Jacob’s address. He’ll take you across.” Moira tried to smile, but her pain made the effort ghoulish. “Contingency plan for my . . . little soldier.”
The front of the shop was ablaze. Jo felt heat singeing her exposed skin. She coughed again as she glanced toward the back, where a closed window led outside.
She turned to her mother. “Mama . . . I cannot . . .”
Moira gripped her hand, her gray eyes glazed with pain. “You were my first love and my last, child. My most noble action.” Her expression crumpled. “Now . . . run!”
The hand in hers suddenly went slack, and Moira’s head leaned oddly to one side. Her eyes open yet lifeless . . .
Jo awakened from the dream, a sob lodged in her throat. Her pulse hammered as she took in her sumptuous surroundings; then she turned her face into the pillow and cried the tears that she’d held inside for so long.
Colin had done this to her. He had opened her heart, made her weak.
When her emotion was spent, Jo rose to sit on the edge of the bed. Loneliness engulfed her as she ached for her mother. For family.
She thought about her friends back in Paris. Isabelle and André, even Henri Lacourt. Yet it was Colin she missed most of all.
Had her beloved pigeon succeeded in making the flight back to Vernon? Or did no one save Petit know she was here?
Rising, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. Jo hadn’t heard the telephone ring, which meant the operator still hadn’t gotten through to Colin’s hotel in Portbou. Her stomach growled, reminding her it was already late afternoon and she hadn’t eaten. Where was Petit?
Another rumble against her insides made her walk to the outer room and gaze at the telephone. She remembered Petit’s warning about keeping the door locked, but surely he didn’t mean for her to starve. She could still have food sent up and make certain it wasn’t a trick.
Lifting the telephone, she removed the receiver when a knock sounded at the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Room service.”
So Petit hadn’t forgotten about her after all. Grateful for food, Jo went to the door, then hesitated. Should she open it? Or have the waiter leave it in the hall?
She leaned close to the wood. “Can you tell me who requested the food?”
“Mr. Mabry, madame.”
Jo’s heart went still. Colin?
She opened the door wide, her heart ready to burst at the sight of him. Clad in his hotel livery, he quickly pushed the food cart over the threshold, and she closed the door.
“Johanna?” He turned to her with a hesitant smile and then opened his arms.
She nearly knocked him over, rushing into his embrace. “Colin!”
As he held her, she began to cry. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”
He gently stroked her hair, his deep voice soothing her ragged emotions. She finally looked up at him. “I was so afraid my prayers wouldn’t be answered. . . .”
He stole the rest of her words with a kiss so tender she nearly melted into a pool at his feet. Her eyes closed, and she sighed against his lips before surrendering her desire with all of the longing and love in her heart.
His arms tightened around her, his lips tasting of coffee and yearning. Jo was reassured by the familiar scent of him and slid her arms up around his neck. His solid strength was like her own wall of comfort as she lost herself with him, forgetting the world or what might happen next. Just being in his arms and knowing he was safe was enough.
“How I missed you, Mrs. Mabry.” His warm whisper fell against her cheek as their kiss ended, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I prayed all the way here that I would find you safe.”
Still languid from his kiss, Jo slowly opened her eyes. “I prayed for you, too. What took you so long?”
He let out a deep chuckle and lifted his head, eyes gleaming. “A fine thing coming from a woman who doesn’t know the meaning of on time.”
She grinned before her features sobered, remembering her uncertainty and guilt of the past two days. “I thought you had stayed behind in Portbou because you were ill, but I can see that is not the case.” Her gaze surveyed his obvious good health. “I also imagined that you wished to avoid me.” Her cheeks heated. “After our . . . evening together on the beach.”
He reached up to touch her cheek, his eyes searching hers. “I feared the same about you at first—that you had fled because of my ungentlemanly behavior.”
“Oh no, I thought you were ever the ‘gentle man’ with me.” She leaned into his touch and then sighed, pulling away from him. “But now, here I am, throwing myself at you and betraying my sister all over again.”
“Johanna, please, don’t punish yourself. You have betrayed no one.” A hint of sadness touched his features. “I need to tell you some things, but right now, you need to eat.”
He released her toward the covered dish on the cart. “I heard your stomach rumbling.”
She gave him a shy smile before removing the covered dish. Taking up the plate of small sandwiches, she sat on the divan. “What do you want to tell me?”
“First, you eat.” He pointed to her plate.
“Very well.” Despite her growing anxiety, she was hungry. “Why don’t you tell me how you found me. Did Little Corporal succeed in his mission?”
“Yes, I received your message about the golden key.” A smile touched his lips as he pulled over the padded vanity chair to sit across from her. “Do you remember the man in the hat who bumped into me at Le Bibent? Turns out he was an acquaintance of mine from Britain, Captain Marcus Weatherford.”
Jo nibbled at her sandwich, listening as Colin relayed how the same man had shown up in Portbou yesterday, and how Colin had given chase before he had unexpectedly turned up at his hotel door that very morning. “We traveled together to Barcelona.
“Right now, the captain’s here at the British Consulate. He told me he would find out where you were from Petit this afternoon, but I didn’t want to wait to see you.”
She stared at his waiter’s garb. “Did you get a job here at the hotel?”
He grinned. “Actually Marcus is the one who gave me the idea. In this disguise, I went to the front desk of hotels on La Rambla and claimed ‘Mrs. Mabry’ left be
hind her passport while dining at my table on the café terrace across the street. I inquired at the Oriente first, but the clerk said no one by that name was registered. When I came here, the clerk demanded your passport.”
“Well, you don’t have my passport, so what did you do?”
“I insisted on delivering the valuable document myself, of course. I told him I expected a reward.” He bent his head. “I admit I paid the desk clerk a few pesetas to have a look at the hotel register, which is how I managed to get your room number.”
She laughed. “A brilliant plan, even though you had to resort to bribery.”
His face reddened. “It was important.”
“Indeed.” She reached to touch his arm. “And I am very glad you did.”
Jo picked up another wedge of her sandwich. “How did you manage the room service?”
“It seems the hotels here are desperate for help at the moment due to the flu.”
She nodded. “’Tis what we heard at breakfast this morning.”
“We?”
“Mr. Petit. You know, I accused him of lying to me about his coming to see you yesterday morning before we left Portbou.”
“He did lie.” Anger filled his voice. “Petit knew I was sleeping off the drug he’d put in my coffee the night before. I didn’t awaken until after you’d both left.”
Jo drew in a sharp breath. Petit had lied? Her own fury flooded her as she dropped the sandwich back onto her plate. “That . . . that . . .”
“Bounder? Lunatic? Pick either one; they both fit.” His mouth twisted. “After I had a chance to think about your hasty departure, I realized that, with Petit’s stunt, something else must be going on. I was worried for you, and when I received Lacourt’s telegram this morning, I was determined to come to La Rambla and find you.”
He tipped his head. “Aside from his lies, has Petit harmed you in any way?” His gaze traveled tenderly over her. “What happened yesterday?”
Jo told him about her visit with the woman in black. “She knew things about Jewel and about you, but she made mistakes, too. After she left, I realized she could not be my sister and had somehow gotten hold of the diary. Remember the misplaced bookmark? I suspected Petit had something to do with it, of course. Then I wondered about Kepler.” She frowned. “Now, however, I’ll stick with my original theory that Petit orchestrated the intrusion.”
