“But your French,” Albert said, clucking his tongue. “You can’t possibly go alone.”
“I can go with you,” Marie ventured, instantly regretting it.
Vesper looked as surprised as she at the offer. Then he scowled. “Impossible!” he snapped. “You’ve only just arrived. You have zero actual experience. It’s too dangerous.”
“Her French is brilliant—and yours nonexistent,” Albert added chidingly. Marie wondered how it was possible for the leader of the circuit to operate in France without speaking the language.
Vesper did not answer but stared at her, considering. Did he prefer to travel alone or simply not want her? Either way, he was going to say no, she thought with a mix of disappointment and relief.
“Only as far as Mantes-la-Jolie,” he conceded finally, and she could see the surprise on the faces around her that he agreed at all. “Come.”
As Vesper started through the door, Marie looked back over her shoulder at Josie. They had been reunited for such a short time, and who knew when they would see each other again? She wanted to run to Josie, to say goodbye and see if she had any words of wisdom or advice. But Josie simply raised her hand to say farewell, and Marie knew she had no choice but to go.
She raced down the stairs and out the front door of the villa to catch Vesper, slowing only as she passed the unexploded ordnance in the garden. Vesper did not take the bike they had ridden earlier, but instead set out on foot across the field opposite the house. Neither spoke. His strides were long and she had to nearly run to keep up. Her skin was unpleasantly damp beneath her dress.
They walked on for some time, neither speaking. In the distance, church bells pealed ten. “You’re slow,” he said accusingly a moment later as the field ended at a country road.
“What do you expect?” she spat, all of the anger and fear of the past few days flaring up in her. “You left me in a shed alone and freezing overnight without food or water. I’m exhausted.”
“I haven’t slept a full night in two weeks,” he replied. “It’s the nature of the work, always on the move. But you’ll have rest and food as soon as we have you settled with your wireless. I’m surprised you’d want to come along to help a simple courier,” he added, changing the subject.
Marie flushed. “I had no idea I’d been met by the famous Vesper,” she replied, trying to make light of her earlier gaffe. “What an honor.”
He looked surprised, as if no one had ever joked with him. “You could sound as if you meant it,” he replied stiffly. “I’m also called Julian, by the way.”
“How do you manage without speaking French?” she asked, before hearing Eleanor’s admonishment for asking too many questions.
“As circuit leader, I seldom interact with the locals. It would be too dangerous if I was caught. So I stay low, operate through the other men.”
“And women,” she pointed out. “Or do you think we shouldn’t be here?”
“I think women can be just what the operation needs, if they are good enough—and committed to the task.” This last part sounded pointed—and directed at her. A question seemed to linger under his words, echoing her own doubts.
She decided to ignore it. “You said that we are headed to Mantes-la-Jolie?”
“To a nearby village, actually, Rosny-sur-Seine. Presently we have no safe house in the region, other than the villa, which is too big and visible to hide an agent on the run. We’re trying to establish one, but we can’t simply walk into town and ask who is willing to risk their lives by hiding fleeing agents. So we start smaller and find a local who will act as a drop box for our messages, before asking if they will hide people.”
Before she could reply, there came a rumbling sound from around the corner. A large brown military truck appeared, traveling toward them. Marie tensed and started toward the trees once more. Julian grabbed her arm, and this time she was too terrified to protest. “Easy,” he said in a low voice. “We are just a French couple, out for a morning walk.” She forced herself to continue walking normally, eyes down. A moment later, when the truck had disappeared around the corner, he dropped her arm roughly. “You do know that your cover is that of a Frenchwoman?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then act like one.”
She lowered her head. “I’m sorry. If you’d like me to go back to the villa, you can take someone else. Perhaps Josie...”
“It’s too late,” he said, as they neared a village with a tangle of limestone houses and a canal winding along one side. “We’re here.” Marie was surprised that their destination was so close to the villa; they could not have walked more than a few miles. He paused before a stone bridge that ran low over the canal. “This region is one where we haven’t had many local contacts. The village is new to us but we’ve been told that there may be townsfolk sympathetic to the resistance and willing to help. We need to find a house or a café where we can leave messages—and where one of our agents can eventually hide for a night if need be.”
“Not a café,” Marie replied. Her eyes traveled down the main road into the town, a twisting cobblestone thoroughfare ending at a small square. “A bookshop,” she added slowly, the notion forming as she spoke. Messages could be exchanged while perusing the books or perhaps even left in a particular volume. “If they have one.”
“A bookshop,” Julian repeated, turning the idea over in his head. “It’s brilliant!” He was looking at her with approval now. She felt her cheeks flush. “There is one, just off the square. The Germans would never go there because they hate books.” Then his smile faded. “You have to do it—persuade the shopkeeper.”
“Me alone?” Marie asked. She had been on the ground less than twelve hours.
“Yes. A man walking into the shops at midday raises too many questions.”
Marie nodded. People would wonder why he was not off fighting. “But I came with you only to translate. You saw how poorly I did back there acting calmly when the army truck passed us.”
“Are you here to do the job or not?” he snapped.
Her job, Marie wanted to retort, was to operate the radio from somewhere hidden away. Yet somehow in her first twenty-four hours on the ground, she’d become first translator, and now operative. She recalled then how Eleanor said the agents must be well trained in all aspects of the job because they might be called upon to do anything at any time, as well as Josie’s comment that they must do the work that was needed. This was her mission, or part of it, at least.
“I know you’re nervous,” Julian said, his voice softening. “Fear is always the first instinct—and rightly so. It’s what keeps us on our guard—and alive. But you must train it, harness it. Now go. Ask the owner if he has The Odyssey by Homer in the original.”