to be stopped at any second.
On the train, he helped her into her seat, then kept a protective arm around her. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if he could feel it through the back of her dress. She held her breath, expecting the police to burst into the railcar and arrest them. The train sat still for what seemed an eternity and she prayed for it to go. At last it began to snake with painstaking slowness from the station. Neither of them moved as the train left the station.
There were no lights on the train and as Paris faded behind them, the darkness of the countryside seemed to envelop the railcar. Marie looked up at Julian, his face just visible in the faint moonlight. He was gazing down at her. His eyes conveyed a mixture of worry and relief, and perhaps something more, though she might have imagined it. Her eyes met his, held. She desperately wanted to speak with him, but they dared not talk in English. Finally, when she could bear it no longer, she broke from his gaze and looked away. He kept his arm around her and she let herself rest her head on his shoulder.
It was close to two o’clock in the morning when the train pulled into the same station where Will had dropped her earlier. The car he had been driving was left there, and Julian found where his cousin had hidden the key. He navigated the dark roads expertly to the village. Still neither spoke, as though afraid someone might still be listening even now.
At last they reached Marie’s flat. “Thank God. I thought we were done for,” Julian said in a low voice, mindful of the Germans.
“Because you decided to strap a bomb to my midsection without so much as telling me?” Marie said, her own relief quickly turning to anger. She took the package of TNT from the bottom compartment of her purse and handed it to him.
“I was worried that if I told you, you would be too afraid to go through with it. You did brilliantly.”
She took little comfort in the praise. “I’m not a child. If you’re going to risk my life, I at least deserve to know why.”
“I’m sorry.” He raised his hands. “Never again, okay? I promise. Let me explain everything now. We are to blow up the railway bridge just south of Mantes-la-Jolie,” he said in a low voice. She had earned his trust and he was letting her in on the full scope of the plan at last. He pulled a map from his coat and spread it on the table in front of them. “The bridge is here.” He pointed to a narrow strip of river. “It’s a critical transit point for German tanks and destroying it will hurt their ability to fortify their defenses at Normandy. But we can’t do it too soon or they will have time to repair.” Timing, it seemed, was everything. “So we’re gathering explosives. The piece you retrieved tonight is just one of a dozen we need. All of the work we have done so far, all of the arming and sabotage, pales in comparison to this mission.”
“In what way?”
“The magnitude of the operation, its potential effect—and its danger. Once it works, if it works, we won’t be able to hide in the shadows anymore.”
“And what happens after?” He cocked his head, seeming not to understand. “If we will be out of the shadows, revealed, then how do we continue our work? Is it over?”
“It’s never over,” he replied firmly, snuffing out her hope. “We lie low for a few weeks, go to ground and hide in the safe houses away from the region. We shift our base of operations to other locations.” She admired his single-mindedness and resolve.
“This can’t go on forever,” she said gently.
“No, of course not,” he replied quickly. “No one can go on forever out here.” She wondered if he really believed that. “But if we are taken, then scores of others will rise up to take our place.”
“Then when is it over?”
“When the war is won.” His face was resolute. In his mind, it could not have been otherwise.
“I could have been killed,” she said, her anger returning.
“That was part of the bargain when you signed up, wasn’t it?” Marie bit her lip, feeling that he was wrong but not quite sure how. “This particular type of TNT is actually rather stable,” he added.
“You might have told