To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,65

to be my assistant?”

That earned him a quick, but firm kiss. “Love to. But first, coffee.” She quirked her brows and slid her arms from him, heading for the door.

“Make it drinking chocolate,” he called after her with a smile. “It is Paris, after all.”

Hal gave him a jaunty salute and a wink, then wrenched open the door and hurried out.

John shook his head, then returned his attention to the papers before him, fatigue gone and only anticipation remaining. “All right, then,” he said to the collection. “Now, let’s see what secrets you contain…”

Chapter Fourteen

“This is… I don’t even… Erm…”

Hal grinned and looked up at her husband. “If I ever doubted his nationality, that alone would do it. I vow, the most British utterance known to man is ‘erm’. There is nothing like it.”

John only chuckled, nodding as he leaned against the tree by which they stood.

Ruse didn’t seem to hear her or note John’s reaction. He simply stared, his eyes on nothing, looking as blank as the character he was portraying. “Damn…”

“And that would be the second most British utterance.” Hal clapped her hands in delight and returned her attention to the book she was supposed to be reading in this interview. “Marvelous, Ruse. I feel quite at home.”

“Glad to oblige.” He looked between the two of them, eyes round. “So, it’s only the three you mentioned that you can’t name?”

“I can’t see that we ever were introduced,” John answered with a slight tsk. “Ange?”

The name instantly curved her lips into a smile, such sweetness being ascribed to it now. “No,” she agreed, keeping her tone mild. “No, I’ve never seen them. I’ve provided copies for you in that basket. Perhaps you can make quick work of it, I couldn’t think of a feasible way to bring them to my cousin for his help.”

“No, no, I concur.” Ruse took a bite of the apple he’d taken from the basket, bowing himself before them in a show of gratitude, though he was already sitting on the ground near Hal. “Do you realize what this means? Any correspondence we get our hands on we can now interpret. This puts us at a great advantage compared to where we have been.”

“That was the idea of sending us here, was it not?” Hal glanced over at their companion, unable to keep the satisfied smile from her face. “The transcript of the meeting is also there. We’ve given you a copy as well as the packet to get back to England.”

Ruse nodded, though he didn’t seem quite as relaxed about the thing as John or Hal did. “Merci beaucoup.”

Hal frowned at the thanks, given the flatness of the tone. She looked up at John, who was also frowning.

“What is it?” John asked in a low tone, almost threatening in his manner.

“Operatives,” Ruse replied at once. He shook his head slowly. “That was the word, yes?”

John looked down at the ground, no doubt thinking back. “Agents,” he recited. “Nothing specific about them, but they were mentioned.”

“Not espions?” Ruse prodded.

“No,” Hal confirmed, laying down her book once more. “Why? Is there a significance between an operative, agent, and a spy?”

Ruse met her eyes, the most serious he had ever been in her presence. “Possibly not. That’s the problem. You both were operatives before you received this assignment, in a way. We might say asset, but an operative all the same.”

Hal nodded, seeing the logic in that, and thinking she could see where his thoughts were taking him. “Agreed.”

“But a spy,” he went on, “would be someone more like Trace or Trick. Actively in the face of danger, transplanted from their usual life and surroundings.” He offered a humorless smile. “Rather like the two of you now, I suppose.”

“And you,” John pointed out.

Ruse shrugged. “I didn’t have much of a life in England as it was. It is all relative, in my case. Home is England, but more than that, I have no ties. Which is likely why I’ve been here as long as I have.”

“How long is that?” Hal found herself asking. “If you don’t mind.”

“Five years.” His smile turned a little whimsical, his eyes lowering. “I did have a cousin, though. I do have one, I suppose. She must think I abandoned her like everyone else in her life. I am sorry for that, but Weaver assures me Clara is safe.”

Hal cocked her head, looking over Ruse’s features and calling upon a memory she’d long since tucked away. “Clara Harlow?”

Ruse’s eyes widened, and he reared