of a cigarette gleaming just above her hand. Eleanor did not speak, but started toward the black Vauxhall. Marie followed, handing her bags to the driver. She and Eleanor climbed into the back of the car. “The curfew in Paris has been changed to nine thirty,” Eleanor said as they drove through the military base in the darkness.
The night air tickled Marie’s nose and she sneezed. She reached into a pocket. Her hand closed around something unfamiliar. She pulled out a tailor ticket and a cinema stub, both printed in French. Little things designed to create authenticity.
“Here.” Eleanor passed Marie a purse. It contained a compact, lipstick and wallet. Marie realized these were not simple toiletries, but devices like those she had seen in Professor Digglesby’s workshop at Arisaig House during training, tools she might need to survive once deployed.
They passed an RAF sentry holding a lantern and stopped at the edge of the aerodrome. Marie stepped from the car and walked to the boot where the driver was unloading bags. She picked up the case containing her radio, but Eleanor reached out and stopped her. “I don’t understand...”
“The radio is too heavy for the Lysander. It will be dropped separately.”
“But...” Marie was dismayed. She had grown used to the radio being by her side these past few months, felt attached to it. It was like a kind of armor and without it she would be exposed. She let go of the radio reluctantly, then looked up toward the tarmac at the tiny Lysander. How could a plane be unable to manage her thirty-pound wireless set but transport her safely to France?
“It will be dropped from a separate flight,” Eleanor promised.
“How will I find it?” Marie asked, dubious.
“They will get it to you,” Eleanor reassured her. “Don’t worry. They’re very good.”
Whoever “they” were, Marie thought. All she had heard was one code name: Vesper. She knew no one.
They stood on the edge of the airfield, the dampness of the grass soaking through Marie’s nylons at the ankle. The sickly sweet smell of early dogwood roses wafted moist across the field. Eleanor checked Marie’s cuffs to see that they were folded just so. She was calm as ever, nonemotional. But her hand trembled slightly as she fixed Marie’s collar and there was faint perspiration on her upper lip—little signs of nervousness Marie wished she had not seen because they scared her more than anything else had.
At last Eleanor led her toward the plane. The words batting order were chalked on the side of the plane, followed by names she didn’t recognize. “What’s that?” Marie asked.
“The priority of persons to be extracted if they are at the landing site. We can only fit three and the plane can’t wait more than a minute.” Inwardly, Marie blanched. Even as she was going over, there were countless others trying to escape. She wondered when she would be on the return flight home to Tess. She had to believe it would happen in the end, or she wouldn’t be going at all.
“Here.” Eleanor passed her a neat stack of francs, wrapped with a rubber band. “Half your pay comes in cash when you are in the field to use for things that you need. The rest will be paid for you in pounds sterling when you return.
“And one other thing,” Eleanor said. She held out her hand, palm opened and upturned. Marie knew she was asking for the butterfly necklace, the reminder of Tess that she secretly wore.
Reluctantly, Marie took it from her neck. Then she hesitated. It was the one bit of her old life Marie had held on to these lonely months of training. Now it was being stripped from her. But she knew she had no choice; it was time to let go.
“I’ll keep it safe for you,” Eleanor said, her voice sounding as though she was talking about something much larger. Marie let her take the necklace from her fingers. “You’ll want this instead.” Eleanor produced a necklace with a silver bird charm and held it out. Marie was surprised. But it was not a gift; Eleanor twisted the necklace and it unscrewed to reveal a cyanide capsule. “The final friend,” Eleanor declared. “You have to chew it quickly because the Germans know the smell and will try to make you spit it out.” Marie shuddered. She had trained for it, of course. If she found herself captured and unable to hold out from talking, she was to end her life.