Orienting herself east, Marie started through the trees. She stumbled over a rock, and the pain in her ankle carried her back to the early morning run at Arisaig House when she had fallen. If only Josie were here to help her now as she had been that day. Marie righted herself and started walking once more.
“Halt!” a voice ordered in French. Marie froze, certain she was to be arrested. There was no way to know if it was the Germans or the French police, who were sympathetic to the Germans. Equally bad either way. Should she reach for her cyanide capsule? she wondered. She had not imagined needing it so soon.
She turned and a tall, imposing man emerged from the shadows. She froze, seeing his gun leveled at her. “Fool!” he said in English, his voice a growl. “You never should have done as I said. Run or fight, but for God’s sake, don’t obey.”
Before she could reply, he grabbed her elbow and began to lead her roughly through the woods. Instinctively, she pulled back, unable to stand the stranger’s touch. “Come!” he commanded, as though ordering a stubborn horse. “Or you can stay here to be found by the milice.” For a moment, she hesitated. She had been given no information about anyone she was to meet. In fact, the pilot had said no one was meeting her at all. Was this man really one of them, or was it some sort of a trap?
But the man urged her on and it seemed Marie had no choice but to follow. They padded through the moonlit forest not speaking, his silhouette cutting the sky above.
They reached a clearing on what seemed to be the edge of a farm. There was a small, windowless gardener’s shed. “This is yours,” he said. Marie looked at him, not understanding. “You are to stay here tonight.”
“But I was instructed to go to the train station and find a bike. And where is Vesper? I was told I would be working with him.”
“Quiet!” the man ordered, anger flaring. He had a heavy brow and deep-set blue eyes. “Never say that name—or anyone else’s—aloud.”
Heedless, Marie continued, “I need to speak with him. And I need to find my wireless.”
“You’re to follow orders and stay here.” He raised his hand, warding off further questions. “Someone will come for you in the morning.”
He fiddled with the lock on the door, then let her in. There was no light and the thick, warm air was stifling. As she stepped inside, the heavy smell of manure assaulted her nostrils. There was no bed and no toilet.
Not speaking further, the man walked from the shed and closed the door. On the far side, she heard a key turn in a lock, trapping her inside. “You’re locking me in?” she called through the door, not quite believing what was happening. She realized then that she did not know his name. He could be anyone. To place her life in the hands of strangers—how could she have been so naive? “If you think I’m going to be locked up by some courier, you are sorely mistaken. I demand to speak with Vesper immediately!” she insisted, ignoring his warning not to use names.
“It’s for your own good, in case someone should come along. Stay low and out of sight. And for God’s sake, be quiet!” She heard his footsteps growing softer on the other side and then there was only silence.
As Marie turned away from the door, something scurried nearby in the darkness. A mouse or a rat? she wondered, thinking of the decoy she’d almost destroyed in training weeks earlier, how she and Josie had laughed about it afterward. If only Josie were here now. She sank down to the floor, never in her life so alone.
Chapter Ten
Grace
New York, 1946
Grace awoke, and for a second it was just like any other day. Bright sunlight streamed through the lone window of the tiny, fourth-floor walk-up, casting shadows on the sloped ceiling. The rooming house was just on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen, a block too close to the Hudson River for a respectable woman, but not dangerous. Grace had gotten the place on the cheap because of the old man who had vacated the unit by dying in it the previous week. She’d scrubbed the flat before she moved in, trying without success to remove the lingering pipe smoke odor that clung to the walls and the sense