Bouncing Betty

by Liliana Hart

  He closed the door behind me and then went directly to the bookcase behind his desk, pulling on a copy of A Tale of Two Cities. There was a soft click and the bookcase swung open.

  “Come,” he said softly, ushering me through the opening and into the dark tunnel. I heard a match light behind me and saw him put flame to wick in an oil lamp, and then he closed the bookcase behind him.

  I’d been told the tunnel had been in existence since the Revolution, and those who’d known of its existence were considered the official secret keepers, who had been passed from generation to generation.

  There were several different paths to take, and then others that had been blocked with stones. It smelled of earth and the sea, and I was careful not to brush up against anything so as not to muss my clothing.

  It was no more than a five-minute walk since the Smitherses lived close to Number 1 Dorset Square. I’d made the trek several times before to the Alliance headquarters, so I knew to watch my step toward the end of the tunnel as it inclined slightly.

  George knocked twice on the wall in front of us, waited several seconds, and then knocked four more times at a slightly faster tempo. There was an answering knock from the other side and then George knocked once more. The knock from the other side had been a question of sorts. It was asking if the person on the other side was there of their own free will or if the enemy was with them. One knock in answer meant everything was as it should be. Two knocks meant that all hell would break loose the second the door creaked open.

  The door on this side was heavier and made of stone and metal, which made sense since we were walking through a fireplace to get into Number 1 Dorset Square. I blinked my eyes as they adjusted to the light and took in my surroundings quickly.

  It was a billiards room, and the walls were done in a burgundy silk and the curtains were a brocade a shade darker. I met Graham’s gaze immediately, but I couldn’t read anything there, so I moved to the others. Esther was there, along with George, John Armstrong, and Auguste Dubois. No one was smiling.

  John Armstrong was a young British man only a few years older than me. He had a smooth baby face and dark puppy dog eyes that made me want to pat him on the head. He never said much, and almost always had his hands in his pockets.

  Auguste Dubois looked dangerous. It was the only way to describe him, and I found myself studying his face when he wasn’t looking. He was a man of mystery—a Frenchman—short and stocky in his three-piece suit. His hair was dark and his skin swarthy. He was seasoned at the game, that much was obvious, and he seemed impatient to be here. I had a feeling he was busy enough with his own missions, and didn’t appreciate getting pulled into ours.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “Wagner had the staff at each of the Gestapo headquarters executed this morning after he received the news of the raid at Vitrolles,” Graham said. “Maids, kitchen staff, drivers…most were innocent. We lost seven agents we had working undercover as staff.”

  I felt my mouth go dry, thinking of Esther’s comment about how Wagner had a habit of shooting the messenger when he got bad news, and apparently, everything in his path.

  “He suspects someone who had daily contact with them overheard the location of the new internment camp once Les Milles shut down,” George said. “The most obvious choice was the staff.”

  “He’s laid their bodies along the avenue as an example,” Graham said. “His orders are to let them rot there, and to let the people see what happens to those who betray them.”

  “And then he sent me two dozen roses and requested I accompany him on a scenic drive,” I said, understanding the urgency of this impromptu meeting.

  “He’s a psychopath,” Esther said, her beautiful face rigid with anger and grief. She turned to her husband. “It is too dangerous to send her on this mission. Wagner will start looking for others who have come across his path, who could’ve shared secrets, and their fates will be like our friends whose blood runs in the streets.”

  “Settle, my dear,” George said, putting his hand on her shoulder gently. It was the first time I’d ever seen him show affection to her, and it was odd, but her body relaxed beneath his touch.

  “It is this very reason why I believe Miss Holmes must go through with this charade,” he said.

  “Can she pull it off?” Auguste Dubois asked, his gaze inspecting me like a horse at auction.

  “She can,” Graham said confidently. “And at this point, Wagner would be more suspicious if she cancelled their appointment than if she goes through with it.” His gaze bored into mine and I felt the tingles down my spine. “I assume you’re suitably armed in case something goes wrong?”

  “On both accounts,” I assured him, referring to my knife and the small white pill in my locket.

  He nodded, satisfied, and I guessed that was good enough for the others.

  “You have a new mission,” George said. “You must get him to take you back to his rooms at some point very soon. We feel after his actions today that the Cordiers have very little time left before they become his next example. One of our last bits of intelligence from Lise before she was killed was that both sets of twins and their father are still alive. Jean Cordier has sensitive information, and all we can do is pray they haven’t tortured it from him yet.”

  “Jean wouldn’t betray the Alliance,” Auguste said. “He’d die first.”

  George nodded in agreement, and his stare was intense. “You must be a distraction for Wagner. You must keep him occupied through the night, and it must be within the next two nights. Dr. Meissner took the train to Lambsec as a precaution to make sure there wouldn’t be a raid there as well to release prisoners, but we expect him back before the end of the week. Things are chaotic and scattered right now. It’s the perfect time to move. To keep Wagner off guard, and to undermine his authority and everything he’s trying to build in Marseille. We can take this city back.”

  “I understand,” I said, and my gaze met Graham’s. “I need to be going. The car will be here to pick me up soon.”

  “I’ll escort you back,” Graham said, taking my arm and leading me back through the secret passageway through the fireplace.

  We moved in silence, but I relished the time together with his hand in mine. We hadn’t spent any time together outside of formal briefings or my bedroom. I didn’t know anything about him, not even where he was staying in Marseille.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said when we arrived at the back of the bookcase that led to the Smithers’ home.

  “Always am,” I said cheekily.

  He took my arm and pulled me toward him, and his face was in shadow. “I mean it,” he whispered. “He’s insane and volatile. He’s just murdered dozens of people in cold blood. People he had no proof betrayed him. They were just possibilities, as are you. He’s eliminating loose ends. You are too important to be glib about your safety.”

  “I’m not naïve enough to think that the Alliance can’t replace me if anything should happen.”

  “I can’t replace you,” he said. “To hell with the Alliance.”

  I was speechless for a moment, and then I nodded, hoping I understood what he was saying between the lines.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  “If you can’t accomplish your task,” he said, smoothing his thumb across my cheek. “If you fear things aren’t going the way you’ve planned. Don’t take any chances. Slit his throat and get out. You’re worth much more alive than dead.”

  “I’ll accomplish the task,” I assured him.

  “Yes,” he said, approvingly. “I believe you will. I can’t imagine a man in his right mind ever denying you.”

  And then he pulled me to him and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. There was a desperation in his touch I couldn’t decipher. But I wanted more of it. When he pulled us apart, we were both panting for breath.

  “Hurry,” he said, hitting a hidden switch so the bookcase creaked open. “You have time to
fix your lipstick before the car arrives.”

  Chapter 4

  I hadn’t expected Wagner to be driving the car when it parked in front of the Smithers’ home.

  I’d been watching from the parlor window, and my eyes had widened when he’d gotten out of the vehicle, dressed smartly in his uniform and cap. He pulled off his leather driving gloves and laid them over the steering wheel and then he came to the door. He didn’t look like a man who was ready to kill me.

  The bell rang and I inhaled a nervous breath before exhaling slowly. I’d decided the best course of action was to be anxiously awaiting, as if I couldn’t stand to be apart from him one more moment.

  When the butler answered the door, I made sure Wagner was able to see me immediately.

  “My dear,” he said, bowing sharply.

  “Friedrich,” I said, somewhat breathlessly. “I’m so glad to have received your letter this morning. And the flowers. The flowers are so beautiful. You spoil me so.”

  “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said, kissing my hand. “You look stunning.” I blushed prettily and gazed deep into his soulless eyes. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I thought a drive might be nice. I’d like to spend more time with you. Private time. It’s hard for a man in my position to have much privacy. I have to make it when I can.”

  “I understand,” I said. “You’re very important. So many people rely on you.”

  “It’s true,” he said, taking my hand and tucking it beneath his arm. “I’ve been working too hard. But seeing you makes me want to pursue other things.”

  He led me out of the house and down the steps to his car, and I fought the urge to turn back and look at my sanctuary. I thought Graham probably watched me from afar and wondered if I’d ever come back to him. I had to wonder the same thing myself.

  I could see the strain on Wagner’s face, despite his best effort at joviality. He opened the car door for me and then hurried to the other side, pulling on his gloves and slipping behind the wheel. It wasn’t a military vehicle but a beautiful Delahaye in bold navy with silver trim. The seats were tan leather and the top was down.

  “The afternoon belongs to you,” he said, starting the engine. “I’ve taken the liberty of having some cheese and wine packed in the back seat.”

  “It sounds lovely,” I said, scooting subtly closer to him on the seat. I crossed my legs and made sure the hem of my skirt came high enough to show a hint of the top of my stocking. His eyes were immediately drawn there, and then his head snapped up and he swerved to avoid hitting the sidewalk.

  “I feel so free with you,” I told him boldly. “So comfortable. As if we could just keep driving and sneak away so no one knows where to find us.” I lifted my arms in the air and tilted my face toward the sun, knowing it put my body on display. When I looked over at Wagner with laughing eyes, I knew I had him right where I wanted.

  “You are too young and innocent to know what you do to me,” he admitted.

  I blinked several times, looking perplexed. “What do you mean?”

  “Not everyone deserves the freedom you crave,” he said. “The need to sneak away and escape whatever ails you.”

  It was then I realized where he was driving us. He’d taken the turn to go down the avenue, and I smelled the blood before I saw the bodies. I gasped in horror and put my hand over my mouth, fighting to keep the anger out of my eyes and make him believe I was new to this kind of revulsion.

  “What’s happening?” I asked. “I don’t understand.” I moved closer to him, as if I trusted the monster would save me from himself.

  His eyes hardened and he slowed the vehicle, making sure I saw his handywork, and enjoying my reaction more than any sane person should have. But we already knew he was anything but sane.

  It was then I wondered if he was showing me my fate. As if he were giving me the opportunity to select where I wanted him to display me.

  “Oh, Friedrich,” I said, clutching his knee. I needed to get him back on track. Focused on the fantasies and possibilities.

  “Pardon me, my dear,” he said. “I should have realized you were much too sensitive to see horrors such as this.”

  “Who…who were they?” I asked, letting a single tear fall prettily from the corner of my eye.

  “Traitors,” he said simply. “You might even recognize some of them. They worked for me and my officers in one capacity or another. They left me no choice. Traitors must be dealt with harshly, and their bodies send a message to anyone else who has delusions to follow in their footsteps.”

  He looked at me coldly, and for a split second I wondered if he knew who I was and that I would gladly slit his throat if given the opportunity.

  It was only seconds, but the madness passed from his eyes and he pressed harder on the accelerator, leaving the horrors in our rearview.

  “Please accept my apologies,” he said, taking my hand and kissing my fingers. It was an intimate move, one he hadn’t ventured to make as of yet. “I forget how young you are, and I imagine as an American you’re not used to the hardships of war like we are here. I’m afraid I’m hardened to such things.”

  He squeezed my hand and let out a sigh as if the weight of the world had just fallen from his shoulders.

  “I could tell when you picked me up something heavy weighed on you,” I said, playing to his ego. “Important men like you have important responsibilities. I don’t think I could do it.”

  “Fortunately, you have someone like me so you don’t have to,” he said.

  “That sounds nice,” I said, fluttering my lashes instead of rolling my eyes.

  The farther we drove down the coast and away from Marseille, the more I prepared myself to fight for my life. I’d had some basic training, but hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to put it into practice. Actually, I’d had no opportunities. I’d been successful living in the shadows without suspicion since my inception into the Alliance.

  I checked the side mirror occasionally, and inched my way closer to him, checking to see if anyone followed us. But we were alone as far as I could tell. He was taking a chance not having an escort, but maybe he didn’t think a woman my size would be much of a threat. Or maybe he had an ambush waiting at our destination.

  “Tell me of your family,” Wagner said. “Would they approve of me as a contender for your heart?”

  “Is that what you are?” I asked, raising a brow and putting my hand back on his knee. “I think I like the sound of that.”

  I let my fingers stroke in slow circles on his knee while he parked the car on the edge of the road on a curve facing the Gulf of Lion.

  “I have a confession to make,” I said when he opened my door and helped me out.

  “Oh?” he asked. “What kind of confession? Something deep and dark?”

  “No, nothing so sinister,” I said, laughing gaily. “But it is a bit embarrassing.”

  “You can trust me,” he said. “I hope you know that. We all have secrets that we’d rather keep to ourselves, but it’s important we find someone we can trust. Someone who knows the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

  “You’re right,” I said, letting my vulnerability show. “I guess I’ve never had anyone I could trust like that. Not even my family.”

  “Family is often the hardest to trust and the first to turn on you,” he said. “You told me at dinner the other night it wasn’t your choice to come here. But you’re a dutiful daughter and you came to find a husband like your father wanted. That’s very commendable.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly, licking my lips and watching his gaze fall there.

  He took a basket and a red checkered blanket from the back seat and laid it flat on a patch of grass. And then he unpacked the basket—square tins of different cheeses and a loaf of fresh bread. There were two wine glasses, and I could see the label on the bottle he uncorked. It was a fine bottle of wine more than a dozen years old, and I wondered where he’d gotten it—or who he’d taken it from. Wine wasn’t easy to c
ome by these days.

  “Sit, my dear,” he said, passing me a glass filled with dark red liquid. “And share your confession.”

  I inhaled the bouquet. I hated wine. I’d grown up with a taste for whiskey, but I pretended to take a sip and then settled my skirt as I knelt next to him on the blanket.

  “Well then, if I’m going to confess then you must know I sent a note to Helene today. I saw in the paper the train was coming in from Paris with supplies, and coming by to see Helene was the only thing I could think of so I could see you sooner. I was afraid you wouldn’t call on me again.”

  His face creased into a smile and he took my wine glass from me, setting them both aside. “I think that’s wonderful,” he said. “I have a confession to make too.”

  He’d moved subtly closer and I knew he was going to try and kiss me. I pretended it was Graham in front of me, and I looked at Wagner with nothing but love and desire.

  “Tell me,” I whispered.

  “I’m finding it very hard to act like a gentleman around you,” he said. I felt his breath against my lips and then he nipped at my bottom lip. “I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are. How enticing to a man’s senses. I want you very much. Do you know what I mean by that?”

  I nodded and said, “I think so.” And then I bit my lip in worry. “Are you asking me to be your lover?”

  “I am,” he said. “I’d also like you to be my wife. But right now I need to be alone with you.”

  “We’re alone now,” I said breathlessly.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m never alone. There’s always someone watching.”

  I frowned at that. How had I not seen or felt eyes on us?

  “Don’t worry,” he said, smoothing the lines from my face. “They won’t bother us. And they’re very discreet. After the events of last night and this morning it’s best to take extra precautions.”