For now, I donned a pair of high-waisted pale gray pants and a blousy navy shirt I wore tucked in. I rolled up the sleeves and then wrapped a kerchief in my hair, tying it in a knot on top of my head. I’d brushed out my curls until they’d crackled and rubbed a small amount of perfume between my hands before smoothing them over my hair. It tamed the frizzies and calmed the curls. I slipped on my oxfords and made my way to the kitchen.
I knew the staff would be up and preparing to start their day, but I figured the Smitherses and anyone else who might have been in residence would be asleep a while longer. I crept down from the third floor using the old servant stairs that led directly to the kitchen. I figured coffee and toast would settle my stomach, and if that failed I knew where George kept his bottle of whiskey in his office. In my experience, whiskey cured most things.
I could hear whispers and something heavy banging from the kitchen, but when I walked in, a pregnant silence filled the room. The only thing I cared about was the smell of freshly pressed coffee that permeated air.
All of the staff in the Smithers’ home had come with them from London, and only those who were the most trusted. Servants made as good of spies as anyone in the Alliance, which was why Lise and her friends were rotting in the street.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” I said in English. “I’ll help myself to coffee and slip out.”
“I’ll get it, ma’am,” Mrs. Worth said, laying down her rolling pin and the fresh dough she was working over.
She set it up on a small tray with cream and sugar, and added dry toasts and crockeries of butter and jam. She added a pastry, and I started to think maybe I could eat after all.
“Are you eating in the dining room?” she asked.
I nodded, because it was very obvious taking a seat at the kitchen table wouldn’t have been welcome. I preceded her into the dining room and took my place so I could see out the front windows that looked out along the pier. They were the same boats that had been docked the day before and the day before that.
You could feel something brewing in the air, as if everything was ripping apart at the seams. The only thing any of us could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other until we stepped on a land mine.
I felt his presence before I saw or heard him, and then I felt his hand squeeze the back of my neck as he bent down to kiss the top of my head.
“I didn’t expect to see you today,” I said. “I can ring for more coffee.”
“I came in through the kitchen like you,” he said, smiling as he took the seat at the head of the table facing the door and the windows. Graham never put himself in a position to be taken by surprise. “It drives Mrs. Worth crazy to have people in her space.”
There was a boyish charm as he spoke of Mrs. Worth. “And how long have you been aggravating her?” I asked.
“Oh, about a decade or so,” he said. “Before George and Esther were married. Mrs. Worth was George’s family’s cook when he was a boy.”
I was like a sponge for information about him. “How long have you known George?”
“He was my recruiter at MI6,” he said.
“George?” I asked. “I didn’t realize.”
“Marriage changes a man,” Graham said. “The George you see now is not the George I knew at the beginning of my career. And still, I wouldn’t want to go up against him one-on-one. But he withdrew from the more dangerous jobs after he and Esther married, and then he recruited her as well, so a lot of their undercover work is as a married couple and in society.”
“How did you end up in France?” I asked.
“I guess I’m a bit of a rogue at heart,” he said, grinning. “I tend to end up where I’m needed. I’ve lived here and there and everywhere. Nothing has stuck permanently. But when George mentioned that MI6 was creating the Special Operations Executive, and he was to head up the Alliance out of Marseille, I knew I could be of use to help end this war. I was asked to be in charge of Alliance headquarters in Lyon, but I don’t like being in charge. Being in charge means you have to sit behind a desk instead of breaking into prisons in the middle of the night.”
“Or Gestapo headquarters,” I added.
“Exactly,” he said.
I hesitated, wanting to ask more, but I took a sip of coffee instead.
“What is it?” he asked.
“No one has talked about what happens after,” I said. “What happens if we’re all successful in our missions? What happens when the Cordiers are rescued and exported out of the city? What happens when Wagner wakes up in the morning with a terrible hangover and a realization he’s been duped? He’s going to go on a rampage through this city like nothing these people have ever seen.”
“Hitler will call him ineffective and demote him,” Graham said. “He’ll be scrubbing toilets back in Germany before the week is out.”
I wanted to believe that, but I wasn’t so sure. Men like Wagner didn’t disappear so easily once they’d had a taste of power.
“All things considered,” he said. “This is a simple, straightforward job. You’ve played your part beautifully. We’ve been getting briefings and intelligence reports on Meissner and his comings and goings, as well as how Wagner is positioning his officers around the city. He’s moved the women out of headquarters and into one of the other houses they’ve commandeered. Don’t underestimate Helene. She’ll be more of a threat to us after this mission than Wagner will. Those women are a group of finely trained
