curls. “Of course he is. He wants back in your good graces and seems willing to break himself in half trying to do it.”
“Maybe. I don’t know what to do.”
“Clearly, you want to do something or you wouldn’t have accepted his invitation to travel hundreds of miles for holiday. If you don’t want to be here, if you’ve changed your mind, we can leave.” She thought of Barrett down the hall. He’d be furious, but he wasn’t her concern. “We can go to Switzerland, check into one of those spas for a few days of mud masks and sulfur springs. Smells like the dickens, but it’s supposed to do extraordinary things for your skin.”
Ellie shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You need to do something. Make some kind of decision instead of letting the wind blow you where it wills.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but the frustration of drawn-out nerves boiled over before she could put a lid on it. She was in no mood to coddle another one of her sister’s moods, especially not in this place. Her nerves were jumbled enough.
Flipping open her cosmetic travel case, Ellie swiped fresh red lipstick across her mouth, ran a comb through her hair, and brushed off the flake of mascara under her eyes. With nose tilted in the air, she headed out the door. “I am. I’m going to see Eric.”
An hour later, Barrett found Kat out on the sun terrace at one of the green-and-white umbrella tables. The spicy scent of aftershave wafted around him. “Enjoying the scenery? Bit different from England.”
“I never imagined I’d travel to a place so beautiful. For a moment, I found myself relaxing at the tranquility, until I remembered whose backyard we’re sitting in.”
“It’s up there.”
She followed his pointed finger to the rising green mountains of Obersalzberg. “What is?”
“The home of the devil himself.” He plopped into the wooden chair next to her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “The bigwigs back in London couldn’t even pull off an invitational coup like this, but you did it.”
She—or correction, she via Ellie—had done what no one else of military or intelligence power had yet to achieve. She’d smuggled in the spying eyes of London to the wolf’s lair. No powerful connection of the Whitford name required. “I wonder if he’s there now plotting his next horror to inflict.”
“If so, that dynamite I brought along will come in handy. Kidding.”
“Half of me wonders.”
He moved closer, brushing her arm with his. Seriousness hovered in his eyes. “We could end the war. No one may get this chance again.”
“It’s not our assignment.”
“Always playing by the rules, eh?” He leaned back in his chair, pillowing his hands behind his head. “Of course, if we took matters into our own hands, then there’d be no need for a rulebook anymore. Something to think about.”
A bead of perspiration trickled down between her shoulder blades. She couldn’t tell if it was the late-afternoon heat or Barrett’s absurd suggestion. She shifted in the chair to stir a breeze beneath her skirt. “Has this been your plan all along?’
“Nope. Just came to me.”
“I’d rather not get blown up, if it’s all the same to you.”
His dark eyebrows slid down into a frown. “Do you dare to insult my skills of detonation? I’ll have you know that I’ve yet to lose a man—or woman—in an explosion of my own making. That’s what timers are for.”
“Probably the closest I’ll ever see to you doing work.”
“We’re on holiday. Don’t want to overdo it.”
“Holiday, yes.” She pinched the skirt fabric between her fingers. “While the rest of Europe groans in battle, we sit here on cushions drinking from crystal-cut champagne glasses. Does it not sicken you?”
“Every day. I learned long ago that each person has a part to play. Some in the mud, some in a pub, and some waltzing behind enemy lines. No job is easier than the next, but I have to admit it must be a relief to stare at your enemy across a muddy field rather than a dance floor. At least out there you can shoot them outright.”
“The simplicity of showing one’s true side.”
“Aye.” Closing his eyes, his face relaxed. How the man seemed so at ease in the middle of a town where one had to be a Nazi to be a citizen was beyond her. Ever since they’d stepped off the train, she’d yet to take a full breath that didn’t pinch her lungs with