by Liliana Hart
“I knew it!” she said, stamping out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table. “What about the British Intelligence officers they captured?”
“He was happy to mention them,” I said. “He said it’s his mission to smoke out every traitor. There’s a train leaving in two days. Our men are meant to be on it.”
“You’ll need to be debriefed first thing in the morning,” she said, coming to her feet. “We must get those men out of France and back home. Did Wagner suspect you? What did you tell him?”
“The truth,” I said, smiling coyly. “That I’m American and my father sent me to France to live with a friend so I could search for a husband. I let him know the position was still open while I fiddled with the top button of my dress.”
“Men are so easy,” she said.
“He wants to see me again,” I said. “He might have people watching the house.”
She waved her hand. “I would be surprised if he didn’t. We can handle it. And everyone in the Alliance uses the secret entrance anyway. We’re well protected here. Sleep tonight. You’ve earned it.”
I wanted to ask about Henry Graham. Whether there had been any word about him. Whether or not Wagner’s men had beaten him to within an inch of his life or sent him to the internment camp to wait for death with the others. But I stayed silent.
There were times this strange world seemed like a game. A game I was good at and one I couldn’t possibly lose. I’d felt invincible from the start—untouchable—as if the stories I’d heard about others in the Alliance being captured and killed were mere fairy tales. But in the blink of an eye, I realized that it was real lives on the line and real consequences for stupid actions. Graham had only been a legend in my mind, someone I’d seen from a distance a time or two. But it was his blood on my hands after today.
I bid Esther good night and promised to be up and ready in the morning. My head was spinning with the information Wagner had inadvertently leaked while we were sipping wine and flirting over dinner. I wouldn’t forget it. I never forgot anything. And maybe what I’d learned tonight would save lives and make up for the one I’d potentially lost today.
By the time I reached the third-floor landing exhaustion hit. The sconces were dimmed in the hallway so I could see myself to my room. I had the third floor to myself, and I’d had to practically threaten Margueritte to get her to leave me in peace in the evenings. I’d been dressing and undressing myself for a long time and didn’t need the help now. I wasn’t sure if I hurt her feelings or not, but she’d left me to my peace and still left chocolates on my dresser, so I figured she wasn’t too mad.
I pushed open the door to my room and breathed in the fresh scent of lilacs and baby powder. The room was large and would be drafty without the thick blue carpet and matching velvet drapes. There was a marble fireplace at the opposite end from the bed, but there was no need for a fire at this time of year, though the nights were much cooler than I was used to. I had my own bathroom and tub, and I planned to make full use of it before I met with anyone in the morning.
There was a single oil lamp on the nightstand, dimmed so only a flicker of light showed. I tossed my wrap over the back of a chair and started undoing the buttons on my dress, stopping to take the combs out of my hair because they were giving me a headache.
It wasn’t until I moved to the wardrobe to get my nightclothes that I realized I wasn’t alone in the room. I caught the shadow of his silhouette from the small gap in the curtains that let in a hint of moonlight.
I went about my business, reaching under my dress to undo my garters. I slipped the small knife I kept tied to my garters from the sheath and hid it under my nightclothes, and then I finished unbuttoning my dress and let it fall from my shoulders so I was dressed only in my slip. I turned and headed toward the bed, wanting to be at the best angle and distance to throw my knife and hit the target, but my plans were interrupted with the strike of a match.
I saw the flame flicker and smelled sulfur as the tip of his cigarette went red.
“I can’t decide if I’d rather die from a heart attack if you take off more clothes or from that knife you’re hiding,” he said.
“There are worse ways to die than either one,” I told him. There was no point in covering up. We weren’t children and I didn’t want him to think he intimidated me. “I see you’re still alive.”
Henry Graham chuckled and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles and making himself at home as if it were his room instead of mine. “I could say the same to you,” he said. “You made it back from dinner in one piece. Other women haven’t been so lucky.”
I arched a brow. “I’m not other women.” I’d been listening to the timbre of his voice and there was something there that intrigued me. “You’re not British.”
“It says on my papers I am,” he said.
“Ah, yes,” I said, moving toward him slowly so the moonlight shone on my slip, making it practically transparent. I leaned down and took a cigarette from the black case on the table, putting it between my lips and then leaning closer so he could light mine with his own. “We all have papers, don’t we,” I said, blowing out a stream of smoke and walking away so he could get a back view.
I had no idea what Graham was doing in my room, but I felt the challenge of matching wits with his and I wondered if he could be broken like any other man.
“You’re very good,” he said.
“You don’t know how good.”
He barked out a laugh and sat up straight, mashing out his cigarette in the ashtray.
“What did you learn from Wagner tonight?” he asked, turning from pleasure to business in the blink of an eye.
“What did you discover in his office today?” I countered. “Interesting he’d have you taken there.”
I might be new to this world of intrigue, but if I’d learned anything over the past two months it’s that information was sacred and in the wrong hands it could be deadly. I knew Graham only by reputation, but I liked to size a guy up before I started trading life stories.
His smile was thin this time. “Don’t worry. I had my cyanide pill, just in case.”
I had mine in the small locket I wore around my neck. There were two things I never left home without—my knife and a quick way to die.
“So why aren’t you dead?” I asked.
“Wishful thinking?” he asked.
“Do you always answer a question with a question?” I countered. “We haven’t even been properly introduced. What do you want from me?”
He arched a brow and his eyes smoldered with something more. “That’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “And to think Wagner was more of a gentleman tonight than you’re being.”
“I’ve been many things in this life,” he said. “But a gentleman is not often one of them.”
He made his way toward me with slow deliberate steps, and I felt my heart catch in my chest. This was a man. And he made all the others I’d known in my life dim in comparison.
He held out his hand and I placed my smaller one in his, watching as he bent down to kiss the back of it. He lingered, gazing up to see my reaction.
“Henry Graham, at your service,” he said.
I pulled my hand away slowly and gave him a look that would’ve had lesser men puddling at my feet. “A pleasure,” I said. “Scarlet Holmes.”
“Hmm, it suits you,” he said. “I’ve heard of you, of course.”
“Naturally,” I said, feigning indifference, though I was curious how he’d have heard of me. My work so far had mostly been observing and gathering information. I’d done nothing spectacular to draw attention to myself.
“Codename: Bouncing Betty,” he said. “You’re quite infamous, you know? You have a reputation for superior intellect and heart-stopping seduction. I can see they weren’t exaggerating. The Alliance has great hopes for you.”
“I have great hopes for them as well,” I said.
“As lovely as it is to have evening guests in my bedroom, can you enlighten me as to why the great Lord Hawkeye is gracing me with his presence?” I asked, using his own codename.
“You’ve done well,” he said. “You’ve managed to become one of Wagner’s interests, and hopefully you’ll become one of his distractions. This entire city is under his command. There is a French girl working as a maid at the Gestapo headquarters. Her name is Lise. Each week when you visit Helene she will slip a tin of makeup into your case after she delivers tea. There are coordinates inside the makeup tin and you’ll take them to the next destination on your route, where someone will relieve you of them.”
“Am I working for you now?” I asked.
“Get some rest,” he said. “Debriefings are always long and tedious.”
And then without answering any of my questions, he walked out of my room. I went to the closed door and flicked the lock, but I knew it wouldn’t keep him out. I was crackling with energy and unspent tension and I knew it wouldn’t be a restful night. I didn’t know if Henry Graham was good husband material, but I wasn’t past letting him try.
Chapter 3
My family didn’t spend a lot of time in church back in Whiskey Bayou, but I remembered a certain sermon about pride going before destruction. I probably should have paid closer attention to that one.
I knew it was because of the information I’d provided during debriefing that had allowed agents to find the camp and liberate dozens of prisoners. On a personal note, it had eased my mind immensely to have seen Graham in the debriefing room sitting in one of the high-backed chairs.
I’d found out later that night, when he’d visited me in my room again, that he was one of the agents chosen to free the prisoners. He was a kindred spirit, and I recognized part of myself in the wildness in him. There had been excitement in his eyes at the thought of sneaking his way into enemy territory. The danger was as addicting as anything I’d ever felt.
I’d woken in the middle of the night and stretched my hand across the bed, but the sheets were cool and empty, though I could still smell his cologne on the pillow. I tried to go back to sleep, but it came in fitful spurts the rest of the night, my mind occupied with nightmares that this mission might be Graham’s last.
It was a dangerous mission. But he knew the risks of the job better than anyone. The rest of that night and the day passed in a blur. And when Wagner sent roses and a note telling me he’d call on me again, for a split second, I wished they were from Graham. There was a girlish dream in my heart that the night, or half the night, we’d spent together meant as much to him as it had to me. But my experience with men had taught me not to hope too much. That way the disappointment wasn’t so great.
But I was pleasantly surprised when Graham came to my room again the next night. Truthfully, it had almost been dawn. I’d been fast asleep, dreaming of his lips on mine, when suddenly, they were, and I wondered if I’d become his obsession like he’d become mine. He’d come directly from his mission in Vitrolles to me. And that had to mean something.
Our time had been short, because he’d been gone again before I’d woken the next morning, sneaking in and out of my bed like he’d snuck into my heart. When I’d finally pulled myself together and managed to get dressed and down to breakfast, I was determined and inspired to make my mark on this war like he had. Lord Hawkeye would always be known as one of the greatest spies who ever lived. I saw no reason Bouncing Betty couldn’t be synonymous with his.
“You’ve certainly got some color in your cheeks,” Esther said when I sat across from her at the breakfast table. She gave me a knowing smile as she rang the bell for the kitchen maid to bring in my breakfast.
“Hmm,” I said, unable to keep the grin from my face.
George had left the morning paper folded on the table. It had been freshly ironed, though there were smudges of ink where he’d turned the pages.
There was no truth in the newspapers, only propaganda that the Nazis wanted the people to see. The best way to control people was to keep them in fear. But the Alliance read the papers faithfully, ferreting out nuggets of truth amid the deceptions.
I nibbled on toast as I scanned the pages until I saw what I was looking for.
“The train is coming in from Paris tomorrow with new supplies,” I told Esther. “I should send Helene a note and let her know. She always likes to be the first to see what’s new from Paris. And I need to move faster and have more opportunities inside their headquarters. Once a week isn’t cutting it.”
There was concern in Esther’s eyes, but she nodded in agreement. “You need to force another meeting with Wagner. Our time is running out with the Cordiers. You need to discover where they’re being held. They’re an important family, and an asset to the Alliance. Wagner isn’t going to be happy about the security breach at the internment camp. I’m sure he’s received the reports by now.”
I nodded in agreement. “There is an urgency to get this done. I feel the few freedoms we’ve been allowed these past weeks are dwindling. The restrictions have grown week by week. I don’t know how much longer we can be operational here.”
“George and I feel the same,” Esther said. “Just keep your bag ready. That’s why we have escape plans in place.”
The maid brought out my breakfast and I asked her for stationery so I could have Esther write the note for me. I didn’t write French as well as I could speak it, and I didn’t want to make any mistakes at this crucial juncture.
“I’ll go early in the morning and get my new cases from Monsieur LeCompte,” I said, referring to the man who owned the makeup company. He was also an Alliance member, which was how I got the job. “I’ll head straight to Gestapo headquarters from the office.”
I hesitated, wondering if I should mention the fact that Graham had given me a side mission to collect the makeup tin the maid planted inside my case and carry it to another location on my route. And then I wondered if I’d be messing something up by visiting Helene early and off schedule.
I couldn’t worry about that now. My priority mission was to discover the location of the Cordier family, and if possible, ascertain if they were still alive.
Esther sealed the envelope with wax and then rang for another servant, handing him the envelope and giving instructions on the delivery. Just as the servant was leaving, another maid walked into the breakfast room with a beautiful bouquet of red roses. There was a note attached.
“Maybe he hasn’t gotten the news yet,” I said to Esther, looking at the roses as if they were poisonous. “Someone who’s just been told that half of his prisoners are gone probably won’t be in a flower-sending mood.”
“Good point,” she said. “Maybe his officers are still trying to decide who should be the bearer of bad news. I wouldn’t want that job. Wagner is known for shooting the messenger. Literally. What does the card say?”
I took the card from the maid and turned over the expensive stationery in my hand. And then I slid my finger under the flap and opened it.
“He wrote it himself,” I said, recognizing his handwriting. “He says he’d like to take me on a drive along the coast this afternoon and get to know me better. That I have consumed his thoughts since the moment he laid eyes on me. That definitely doesn’t sound like a man who’s just been given bad news. But it does fit his profile. Wagner considers himself a romantic, and he wines and dines his conquests lavishly.”
“Until he gets tired of them,” Esther said warningly.
“Then I just have to make sure he doesn’t get tired of me,” I said, pushing back from the table. “He’s sending a car for me at one o’clock. I’d better go get ready. A soak in the tub sounds like exactly what I need.”
“You should probably work on getting that stupid grin off your face too,” Esther said. “A man like Wagner is going to recognize that look, and he’s going to realize he wasn’t the one who gave it to you.”
I chose my clothing carefully, going with a navy and polka dot dre
ss that nipped in tight at the waist and accentuated my generous bosom. The sleeves were capped and the skirt floated around my knees flirtily. I paired in with a jaunty navy hat with a large white flower on the side and white gloves. I slicked my lips with red and touched my cheeks with rouge. My lashes were thick and dark, so I’d never used mascara.
There was a knock at the door, and I looked at the clock, noticing there was still plenty of time before the car arrived to pick me up.
“Come in,” I said, moving to the table where I’d laid my knife, carefully sliding my handbag on top of it so it was concealed.
Margueritte poked her head in the door and said, “Pardon me, mademoiselle, but Mr. Smithers would like to see you in his office.”
“Thank you, Margueritte,” I said. “I’ll be right down.”
She nodded and closed the door, and I quickly tied the knife to my garter and practiced pulling it a couple of times to make sure it was in a comfortable spot. It was the only thing my father had given me before he’d sent his only daughter across the ocean to live with strangers. In fact, it might have been the only thing he’d ever given me. I couldn’t really remember.
I didn’t know why I was thinking of my father now, but it wasn’t the time. Wild Bill Holmes had never brought anything but misery to anyone he ever came across, unless they were making him money. Then he could be a real delight. But having him in my thoughts was a distraction, and I couldn’t afford any distractions. Wagner wasn’t a stupid man, and I knew he was studying me as much as I was studying him.
I’d never been called to George Smithers’ study before. I assumed that Esther had told him about my plans for the afternoon and he had specific instructions for me. George was my host, but he was also my direct contact for mission assignments. He’d been in my debriefing along with Graham and two other men who didn’t tell me their names.
I knocked on the heavy walnut door and he opened it himself, ushering me inside. George was a big man who carried a slight paunch around his middle. He reminded me of a walrus with his bushy mustache, squinty eyes, and bald head, but his mind was brilliant.
