our agents and supplies could land in the wrong hands. We have to stop this!” Her voice rose, breaking at the end.
“I can’t shut down the entire operation on an unsubstantiated hunch,” he countered. “Everything must go forward.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “The invasion is weeks—no, days away. We can’t afford distractions.”
Eleanor’s frustration boiled over and she struggled to maintain her composure. “I’ll go to the War Office,” she threatened, too far gone to stop herself.
The Director’s face reddened. “You would go above me?” To him this was the ultimate betrayal. Then his expression softened. “You wouldn’t.” It was a bluff and he knew it. “I’ve supported you, Trigg, in more ways than one.”
And I’ve supported you, she wanted to say. But she restrained herself. She couldn’t risk going against him. Involving Whitehall would bring in the very people who thought the girls couldn’t do this in the first place, prove the doubters right. It was more than just her pride that was at stake. The Director held the fate of her citizenship application, which she so desperately needed, in the palm of his hand.
There was nothing to do but watch and wait.
Eleanor stormed out of the Director’s office without speaking further. She looked over her shoulder, wanting to go back there one more time and beseech him to intervene, demand that he act on her concerns. But she knew that he would not be swayed. He had shut her down entirely. It wasn’t like him. Was he losing confidence in her? Most likely not, she knew. Rather, he was receiving pressure to step up operations. Slowing them for any reason was unthinkable.
Instead of returning to her office, she stepped out into the back alley of Norgeby House. She was eager for fresh air, but the tall, narrow buildings that surrounded it seemed to lean in, too close. She reached for the ladder of the fire escape and began to climb, one floor, then another.
She reached the flat rooftop. Though not tall enough for a proper view of London, she could make out the top of St. Paul’s dome and a bit of London Bridge. Sooty chimneys jutted upward in the foreground like an endless candelabra, seeming to light the unusually fiery sunset.
Eleanor inhaled deeply. The damp air burned with the mix of coal and petrol that was always present. She felt herself trembling with rage and helplessness, the full adrenaline of her disagreement with the Director now set loose. Something was wrong over there; she knew it. Her girls were lost and alone and she was failing them as surely as she had failed her sister. But no one, even the Director, would listen.
Then came a shuffling sound behind her, the gravelly scuffing of footsteps. Eleanor jumped and spun around. At the far corner of the roof, a man stood, half-facing away from her toward the view of south London. Taking him in, the profile was somehow familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Then she stifled a gasp.
“Vesper.” He did not nod or otherwise acknowledge his identity, but his silence signaled assent. She had only known Vesper by reputation, having heard his name and exploits whispered throughout the halls of Baker Street from the day she’d arrived. She’d seen a lone photo of him in his personnel file and though he looked different here, more rugged, she knew his craggy features on sight. She studied the man about whom she had heard so much. He was tall and leonine, with a strong jawline and broad shoulders befitting all that he seemed to carry on them. He was much younger than she had imagined, though, for someone shrouded in such greatness.
The closest direct link to one of her girls was standing right before her. She could hardly believe it.
Eleanor moved closer. “What are you doing here?” she asked before realizing her mistake. He had no reason to answer a total stranger. “I’m Eleanor Trigg.” She studied his face, wondering if he would recognize her name. But his expression did not change. “I’m in charge of the women’s unit.”
“I know. Marie speaks highly of you.” Eleanor cringed as she imagined Marie saying too much and breaking protocol. At the same time, Eleanor could not help but feel a tug of pride. Though she had been hard on Marie for good reason, Eleanor had often worried that it would cause the girl to hate her. It might be the first time in her life she had ever worried about such