The Alice Network - Kate Quinn Page 0,85

just an old suit with the jacket thrown over the chair and shirtsleeves rolled to show lean wrists—but as much as he looked like a university professor, it would be dangerous to forget that he was an interrogator. He could slip information out of you before you even knew it was passing your lips.

So Eve gave a cheerful smile, the good-sport girl who keeps a stiff upper lip through everything. “I thought we were here to talk about the k-k-k”—a fist against her knee, to release the word—“the kaiser’s visit, Captain?”

“Yours were the first set of ears to hear of it. Tell me, from the beginning.”

Eve relayed the details again, crisp and concise. He listened, taking notes. He blinked now and then. So nice to see a man who could blink.

He sat back, surveying his notes. “Anything else?”

“The kaiser’s arrival time has just changed—he’ll be an hour later than planned.”

“That’s new. Where did you hear it?”

“W-waiting tables.” From René, after he finished but before he pulled out of me. He likes to stay there awhile, until his sweat cools, so he’ll just begin . . . chatting.

Captain Cameron caught something in her eyes. “What is it, Miss Gardiner?”

How Eve liked hearing her own name again, especially from his lips. She liked it so much, she knew it wasn’t a good idea. “You had better keep calling me M-Marguerite Le François,” she said. “Safer.”

“Very well.” The questions about the kaiser’s visit continued—Captain Cameron examined it from all angles, isolating every detail Eve could offer. He extracted one or two things she hadn’t thought of, and seemed pleased. “That should do it,” he said, rising. “You have been a very great help.”

“Thank you.” Eve rose. “Tell the RFC not to miss. Tell them to b-bomb that train to shards.”

Her intensity kindled an answering fire in his gaze. “Agreed.”

As she turned for the door she heard his voice again with its faint Scottish lilt. “Be careful.”

“I am careful.” She set her hand to the doorknob.

“Are you? Lili worries. She worries for all her contacts, since she’s a bit of a mother hen. But she says you’re walking a very tight wire.”

René’s lean weight coming down in the dark. “As you say, she’s a mother hen.”

His voice came closer. “Eve—”

“Don’t call me that.” She whirled around, advancing until they stood nose to nose. “It’s not my name anymore. I’m Marguerite Le François. You made me into Marguerite Le François. I’m not going to be Eve again until this war is over or until I am dead. Do you hear me?”

“There’s no need for anyone to die. Be careful—”

“Stop.” She wanted to lean forward and nail her mouth against his. It would stop him talking, and she knew his lips would be warm. You can’t. You’ll like it too much. Like hearing her name in his soft voice; it was bad for Marguerite and it was bad for her work.

She began to pull away, but Captain Cameron’s hand found her waist. “It’s very hard,” he said softly. “What we do. It’s all right to find it hard. If you want to talk to me—”

“I don’t want to talk,” she rasped.

“It might do you good, Eve.”

She couldn’t hear him say her name again. She could not. Of course that was why he was using it—she’d shown a weak point and he was pushing it, the handler seeing if his charge was close to cracking. Part of his job, evaluating her. Eve put her chin up, blindly turning the conversation to rock him back on his heels instead. “Either let me out of this room, Cameron, or t-take me someplace where we won’t do any talking.”

She had no idea where those words came from. Idiot, idiot! Cameron stared at her, plainly surprised, but his hand still warmed the side of her waist. Eve knew she should step away, but a hungry part of her wanted to step closer and damn the consequences. She wanted to lie down with this man, whose every word and reaction she wouldn’t need to sift, measure, and weigh.

But Cameron stepped away, mutely adjusting the gold band on his left hand.

“Your wife s-sent you to prison,” Eve said bluntly. “From what I heard.” The unspoken words were, What do you owe a wife like that?

He reared back. “Who told you—”

“Major Allenton, back in Folkestone. Why did you conf-f-f—confess guilt when your wife was the one who c-c-committed fraud?” Eve had Cameron on the defensive for once, and she kept pushing.

“I suppose it’s no

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