Eleanor turned back to the question that had been nagging at her. “But her transmissions have been erratic. What’s really going on out there?”
He looked down at his boots, not answering right away. “I don’t know. Marie is fine. But there’s something different about this mission. Something not right.”
“Have you told headquarters?”
“They won’t listen to me. They think I’m cracked from being in the field too long, my judgment clouded. It was all I could do to persuade them to let me go back at all. But you know it as well. Why haven’t you said anything?”
“I’ve tried. But they won’t listen to me either.” The full scope of her powerlessness unfurled before her and her frustration bubbled over. Those in power were only interested in one thing now: the invasion. They wouldn’t hear any voices that might slow it, or stand in the way—including the safety of the agents. Eleanor realized then that her girls were in much greater danger than she had imagined.
“So what now?” she asked.
“Get back to France, try to figure it out on my own.”
“You could abort.” For a fleeting second hope rose in her. Cancel it all, extract the girls and bring them back safely. It wouldn’t be a failure exactly, but a delay. They could regroup. Try again.
“I can’t.” Of course not. Too close to the invasion—just like the Director had said. “It’s like a freight train too fast and strong for anything to stop. And if I don’t do it, no one else will.” He started back across the roof. “I need to get back to France as quickly as possible.”
“I can help with that,” she called after him. He turned back. “If your travel orders are ready, I will be glad to arrange the drop personally.” Eleanor could use her position to jump the queue of transmissions and arrange for Vesper to go immediately.
“Thank you.” She wasn’t just doing it for him, though. The agents in the field needed him to survive.
“Wait!” she called as he started to leave once more. She wanted to send a message to her girls, something that would help them to survive whatever ordeals they were facing, or at least to let them know that she was working tirelessly back at headquarters for their safe return. That she had not given up on them. She struggled to find the message that would sum it all up at once, her care and concern, her praise and her warning. But words failed her.
“Tell Marie,” she began. Of all the girls, he was most certain to see her. “Tell Marie I’m worried because her transmissions don’t look right. They won’t let me stop broadcasting or shut down her set, but tell her I’m worried.” She tried to find words, not just of caution, but advice to help the girl survive whatever treacherous waters she might be navigating. But there did not seem to be any more to say.
And Vesper was already gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Marie
France, 1944
Julian had left them. “A week,” he’d said. But it had been ten days. It might as well have been forever.
Marie drew her arms around herself and shivered, though it was in fact warm, the humid air more early summer than spring. The sky was unusually gray, the dark clouds carrying the promise of a storm. She imagined Tess by the old vicarage and hoped the joys of spring in the fens helped her think less about the weeks in which Mummy hadn’t come.
She looked out over the field that stretched behind the safe house. She willed Julian’s strong silhouette to appear on the horizon. But he was still a country away. She tried to imagine what he was doing right now in London. A few nights earlier, she’d dreamed that she had been walking along Kensington High Street and seen him, but he had not known her. The feelings that she had tried so hard to ignore when he was here had seemed to burst wide-open during his absence, and she knew there would be no denying them when he returned.
Marie waited faithfully by the wireless for a transmission from London, and listened to the BBC broadcast on the regular radio each night for the coded messages personnel, which were sometimes used as an alternate means of signaling a drop, praying for the signal to be on standby for a Lysander. Nothing. She looked up carefully, judging if the moon had reached its fullness or if they might have a whole extra night until its peak. Seven days on either side were bright enough for flying. If Julian didn’t come, he might have to wait until next month. The thought was unbearable.
She was not the only one who missed him; Julian’s absence left a void in the circuit. She could sense it from the messages the couriers brought for her to transmit, fewer now, less certain in tone. He was their leader and they couldn’t fully function without him. Julian’s absence wasn’t the only problem either. Things were getting worse throughout northern France. There were rumors, whispered by the agents who brought her instructions: another arrest in Auvergne. A courier who had not turned up. Little pieces that, when put together, suggested that things were getting worse, the Sicherheitsdienst drawing closer, noose tightening. And all this right as they were about to undertake their most dangerous mission to date: blowing up the bridge.
There was a clattering below. Marie stood, her eyes darting across the flat to make sure everything was hidden, and that the radio was inverted into the gramophone, in case the police had come. She opened the door to find the corridor empty.
A moment later, Will’s head appeared over the railing. She was surprised to see him; he hadn’t come personally since the morning he had retrieved Julian for the flight. He stepped into the flat uninvited now and closed the door. His expression was unusually solemn and she held her breath, bracing for bad news. Was it about Julian or something else? “There’s a personnel drop expected tonight,” he announced without greeting. His brown eyes were solemn.
She jumped up with a surge of anticipation. But there had been nothing on the radio about a delivery. “How do you know?”
“Word was couriered over from the Acolyte circuit.”
It seemed odd that the message had come from a network of agents to the east and not through her wireless. “Is it Julian?”
Will’s brow furrowed with uncertainty. “They said the message was garbled, but he’s the only one expected. It must be him. If I was flying him back myself, I would know.”
“You asked to fly him?”
“Of course. Repeatedly. My request was denied.” Will scowled. Perhaps that explained his dark mood. “They said I was needed here on the ground while Julian is in London,” he added. Will had evolved somehow into a second-in-command, a leader while his cousin was away. He was normally a lone wolf, and it was not a role he wore comfortably.
“Well, Julian will be back tonight and you can get back to flying,” she said brightly.