a seamstress, and her bag carried reels of thread and needles. It also carried a set of maps sewn into the lining—maps marked with target points. Thank goodness Eve didn’t learn that until after they passed the checkpoints into Lille. She nearly fainted when Lili chuckled, “The Fritzes would have been pleased to find that lot! I’ve marked out all their new artillery positions for bombing.”
“You were m-m-making jokes with the German sentries as they were g-going over your papers, and all the while you had that in your bag?”
“Oui,” Lili said serenely, and Eve stared at her in a mix of admiration and horror. She knew right then that her boasting to Captain Cameron about how she would surpass his prize agent was destined to be unfulfilled, because nobody, ever, would beat Lili when it came to sheer nerve. Eve both wondered if her superior was a little mad, and admired her violently.
So, clearly, did Violette Lameron, who greeted them both in a dismal rented room somewhere off the Grand Place. Violette was sturdy and glowering, with neatly knotted hair and plain round spectacles; she hugged Lili with visible relief even while scolding her. “You should have let me fetch the new girl. You make too many crossings, you’re going to get noticed!”
“Tais-toi, you worrier!” Lili switched into English, as she’d already told Eve they were to do when alone. Far better to spin a story about how they spoke English, if they were overheard, she explained, than to be understood discussing things like secret messages and British codes in French. Lili’s English was flawless, but she salted it with casual French curses. “Now, we need to get Marguerite up to date before you and I head to the border to get the reports out.” She smiled at Violette. “Our new friend is splendidly dumb faced and she’s going to be brilliant, but she needs work.”
In Folkestone Eve’s training had been formalized: the instructors, the row of desks, the uniforms and flags. This training was quite different. It happened in a damp little room with a narrow bed and a single washstand and a crack running through the ceiling, where everything smelled musty from the unending needle-fine rain falling outside. A room chosen not for its comfort but its proof against eavesdropping, since on one side the building was insulated by the thick stone wall of a chapel, on the other side by a derelict and abandoned apartment building, and above them by an empty attic. A room where three women sat with mugs of an unappetizing drink made of walnut leaves boiled with licorice, because the Germans had confiscated all the coffee, talking matter-of-factly about unspeakable things.
“A German officer walks toward you on the street,” Violette began after the door and window were checked and sealed. She looked grim compared to Lili’s jauntiness; if her superior refused to be serious, she was clearly carrying the grimness for two. “What do you do?”
“Let him pass, don’t look at him—”
“Wrong. Salute. If you don’t, you risk a fine, and three days’ arrest.” Violette looked at Lili. “Do they teach them anything in Folkestone?”
Eve bristled. “They teach us plenty—”
“We’ll get her ready,” Lili reassured her lieutenant. “A German asks to see your papers, then starts to grope you. What do you do?”
“Nothing?” Eve guessed.
“No. Smile, because if you can’t fake a smidge of willingness, you will likely get slapped and then possibly searched. A German asks why you have your hands in your pockets, what do you do?”
“T-take them out as quickly as—”
“No. You don’t put your hands in your pockets ever, because the Huns will think you are reaching for a knife and they will bayonet you.”
Eve smiled uneasily. “Surely not—”
Violette’s hand cracked across her cheek, making a sound like a rifle shot. “You think we exaggerate? It happened to a boy of fourteen last week!”
Eve’s hand flew to her stinging face. Her eyes turned to Lili, sitting with her little hands wrapped around her mug. “What?” Lili said. “You think we’re here to be your friends? We’re here to train you, little daisy.”
Anger flared through Eve—more than anger, betrayal. Lili had been so warm and welcoming in Le Havre; now everything was wrong-footed. “I’ve already been trained.”
Violette rolled her eyes. “I say send her back. This one is useless.”
Eve opened her mouth to snap back, but Lili laid a finger over her lips. “Marguerite,” she said, and her voice was matter-of-fact. “You don’t have any idea what it is