its wheels, chugging it forward on the dirty tracks of Gare de l’Est. Leaning forward, Kat peered out the large window. A small family struggled by with their patched suitcases. Large, yellow stars blazed on their clothing. Two German soldiers sauntered by and snatched the suitcases from their hands, dumping the personal contents onto the platform. As the husband scrambled to gather his belongings, one of the soldiers shoved the butt of his gun into the man’s stomach. The woman and her children cowered, crying, as the soldiers laughed and turned to walk away, but not before catching Kat watching. The soldiers offered her a polite smile and saluted as if they’d served their duty to her. Hatred burned in the woman’s eyes as she stared at Kat sitting comfortably in her first-class seat with her starless fashionable jacket.
She thinks I’m one of them. She thinks this is the world I want.
Kat swallowed back the burn of tears. This was the role she’d agreed to, to keep Ellie safe. But there was more at stake here. More to risk than her sister. If she could put aside her own immediate desires and play the part she’d been given, she could help bring a swift end to the injustice raging like wildfire.
The clock hanging over the now-vacant platform clanged. Her stomach dropped. Ten thirty-five. Barrett was late. How was she to pull off the next four days without him? Smiling and laughing during cocktail hour was one thing, but she was no spy. Foolish British command. Sitting in their high offices and holding their breath as she descended into the very heart of the viper’s pit. The fear that had roiled in her stomach since the day Eric purchased their tickets quaked up into her chest. How could they expect her to pull off a minute of this ridiculous charade? She was a simple girl from Berkshire, not a trained assassin or saboteur. They needed Barrett.
She needed Barrett.
The fear in her chest hurled into shock. When had she allowed herself to become so reliant on him? To wish for him to kiss her on the center of a dance floor? She might be a simple girl, but she was university educated and the daughter of the great Sir Alfred Whitford, war hero of the Somme and tactical advisor to Churchill himself. As her father said, even the great bulldog needed an ally.
But why did her ally have to be so disarmingly handsome?
The car vibrated beneath their feet. A low whistle hissed as the wheels churned. Stacked boxes and trunks, waiting ticket holders, and patrolling armed soldiers passed by the window as they pulled away from the platform. Relief hovered as the guns faded into the distance, but knowing what lay a short ride away, she refused to let it settle.
Plucking an outdated Parisian magazine from her travel bag, Kat flipped it open to the feature article. “Oh, look. Ten new patterns for transforming your faded dress into updated pieces using tablecloths and window dressings. Look, Ellie. Isn’t that darling? You can cut up a floral drape and make stripes on a white skirt. Voila! A new skirt.”
Ellie flicked a disinterested eye to the page then back to the window. The Bastille column rose in the distance. “What kind of fashion magazine touts dresses out of tablecloths?”
“Practical ones.”
“Fashion isn’t about practicality.”
“These days it is. Most women don’t have the luxury of running down to Madame Grѐ’s for a new frock when the fancy hits.”
Ellie picked at the polka-dotted chiffon floating around her knees. “No, I suppose they don’t.”
Closing the magazine, Kat slipped her arm around Ellie’s shoulder and pulled her close. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
Shoving aside the impending horrors, Kat tried to focus on the good. Though they dwindled with each passing second. “Well, we’re going on a lovely holiday to Bavaria, where we’ve never been. Eric says the lake there is clear as glass to swim in.”
“Eric.” Ellie stiffened and pulled away. “Think he’ll shoot anyone while we’re there? Bad table service. Bam. Ducks quacking too loud. Bam.”
“That other man had a gun. There’s no telling what he would have done with it.”
Like a desperate man searching for scraps of food, Ellie’s wide blue eyes bored into hers. “Do you honestly believe that? Really, Kat?”
Kat’s heart pounded in rhythm with the clanging train wheels, faster and faster until it squeezed the air from her lungs. Of course she didn’t believe it. That man had dangled