dinner to several small uniformed girls at a long table. A lump formed in Marie’s throat as she wondered whether she would ever see her daughter again.
Male voices from below pulled Marie from her thoughts. She knelt and pressed her ear close to the heater, trying to hear the sounds that rose through the pipes. A voice with a German accent, asking something. Demanding. The voice that responded was deeper. English. It somehow sounded familiar to her.
Her heart quickened as she tried to calm herself. The German voice came again, then the Englishman. The exchange between the men reminded Marie of a Ping-Pong match, the German asking a question, the Brit saying no. There were several seconds of silence, followed by a sickening thud. Marie held her breath as she waited to hear the voice of the Englishman again. When it came it was desperate and broken, almost a sob.
Marie’s terror grew as she wondered what the German had done to the man, and whether the same fate awaited her. Her panic rose. She raced to the attic door and tried the knob again, desperate to escape, but it was locked. She tried the window once more. The situation crashed down on her then: she was trapped at the headquarters of Nazi intelligence, her cover blown. The Germans knew who she was and that she worked a radio for SOE, perhaps that she had set the charge as well. No one from SOE, either in Paris or in London, knew she was here and she had no way to call for help. The stories she’d heard at training of interrogation and torture filled her mind. Whatever dreadful fate the man downstairs was suffering, she would surely face it next. She would never make it out of here alive or see Tess again.
The door to the room opened suddenly and Marie leaped back so as not to be struck. A different man, German this time, stood in the doorway. “Madame Roux,” he said with mock deference. Marie’s blood chilled.
The German led her down the stairs to the floor below. He opened a door to an office, then stepped aside to let her in. Marie let out a yelp.
Seated in a chair in the middle of the room, with his hands and legs bound, was Julian.
Marie knew then why he hadn’t come back to them as he had promised. The Germans had already arrested him.
“You have five minutes,” the German snarled, untying Julian’s hands before slamming the door behind him.
“Vesper,” Marie said, not daring to use his real name here. What had they done to him? His face was nearly unrecognizable from all of the beatings. A long gash now marred his cheek and his left eye was swollen shut. His nose was off-kilter, too, broken badly. But she had found him. Marie ran to him as joy and relief and terror overtook her all at once. She threw her arms around him so hard the chair threatened to topple.
He leaned his head in her direction, unable to do more because his hands were bound. “Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him, feeling guilty that he should worry about her when his own condition was so much worse.
“The bridge?” he whispered. “Did it work?”
She nodded. “Blown.”
He sat back. “Thank God. They were trying to get it from me, the timing and details. I held out as long as I could, but I didn’t know if it would be enough.” His face was a map of lacerations and bruises, his sacrifice so that the mission could proceed.
“The operation went smoothly. I set the detonator myself.” A note of pride crept into her voice.
“You did what?” Surprise, then anger, registered across his battered face. “Bloody Will! I never should have left him in charge.”
“There was no other way,” she replied. “Josie’s gone missing. There’s been no word of her.” Marie’s eyes filled with tears. If she and Julian had been arrested, was there any real hope that Josie might have somehow escaped?
“And Will?” Julian asked. She could see the concern in his eyes for his cousin.
“Fine, too, as far as I know. He went to London to notify headquarters you hadn’t returned. He’s supposed to be coming back for me tomorrow.” Only now she wouldn’t be there. “He wanted me to go with him, but I stayed.”
“He never should have let you.”
“It wasn’t his choice. I insisted.”
“Why?”
She faltered. “I needed to find you.” Their eyes met then.