“I don’t know. Anyway, we can’t wait any longer. If it wasn’t safe for him to land, then it likely isn’t safe for us to be here.” Marie’s skin prickled with fear. “We have to go.” Will’s voice was insistent.
He stood and started for the trees. Leave and come back the next day at the same time; that was the protocol when a scheduled drop or landing did not happen. Marie lingered behind a moment. Despite the danger, she did not want to leave the spot that was their best—and perhaps only—hope of reuniting with Julian. The hours until they could try again stretched out in front of her, dark and agonizing. Will was right, though. Every second here risked capture and death, not just for themselves but the other agents and the locals who helped them.
“Maybe he had orders to stay,” Marie suggested, as she caught up with Will in the woods.
“That wouldn’t stop Julian,” Will replied firmly. “My cousin would always come back.”
Only he hadn’t. That could only mean that something was very, very wrong.
“He’ll come at the second drop,” Will said, trying to force confidence in his voice.
“But we can’t wait,” Marie realized. “The bridge. It’s set to go off tonight.” She saw the alarm behind Will’s eyes. She had set the timer on the explosive, as instructed, to detonate at ten o’clock tonight, after nightfall. The plan had been to get Julian and he would lead them to ground.
Only now that was impossible. They couldn’t flee without Julian; they didn’t have his extensive knowledge of who could be trusted, where they could safely hide. “Go to the flat,” Will instructed, seeming to form a plan as he spoke. “Make it look as though you never lived there. Destroy everything you cannot conceal or carry.”
“Why?”
“Because I am flying you out of France tonight.”
“But we can’t just leave,” she protested. “We have to be here to receive Julian.”
“Marie, he isn’t coming,” Will said, acknowledging the truth to himself as he said it aloud for the first time.
“He might...” she persisted.
He stopped and turned to her, then grasped her firmly by the shoulders. “We can’t afford to wait. Once the bridge blows, none of us will be safe. It’s over, Marie. You’ve done your duty and more. Time to go back to your daughter while you still can.”
“But how?” she asked numbly, overwhelmed.
“The Juggler circuit has a Lysander on the ground near Versailles that was damaged when it took on some flak during a landing a few months back, and they’ve been secretly working to fix it. If I can get there and make it airborne, I can fly us out tonight.” He pointed in the opposite direction through the trees. “There’s another landing site about five kilometers to the east. If you go due east through the woods, you will come to it. Stay hidden at the landing site until you see me. Meet me at nine thirty and I’ll have us off the ground before the detonation.” He made it all sound so easy.
Without waiting for a response, he turned and started to go. Wait, she wanted to call. She wanted to protest again that they could not leave the country if there was still a chance that Julian might return. But she knew she would get no further with the argument. And it was best for Will to leave now, she knew, under the cover of the darkness that remained. She watched him disappear into the woods.
That evening, after dusk had fallen, Marie stood in the doorway to the flat. The day had stretched slowly. Defying Will, she had decided against packing her few belongings. Best, if anyone came looking, to have it appear she had only gone out for a bit. She had tried to bring up London on the wireless to signal that she and Will were returning and to find out why Julian hadn’t come. But there had been no response. There should have been an operator on the other end receiving, even though it wasn’t her scheduled broadcast. She wondered if the Germans had managed to jam her signal. Or perhaps it was just the weather. It was no matter. By tomorrow they would be back in London. Surely Julian would be waiting for them and explain everything.
Her eyes lingered now in the corner where the radio was hidden inside the gramophone. She couldn’t take it with her. Will meant for her to destroy it, she knew; she had learned as much in training. She walked to it and opened the case, then looked around for something hard. The iron pot by the fire was her best choice. She picked it up and raised it above the radio.
Then she stopped, pot hovering midair. She set it down again. She should try to reach London once more before going. Hurriedly she found her box of silks and selected the top worked-out key to encrypt the message. She pulled the crystals out of her pocket and inserted them into the radio, adjusting the transmittal knobs to find the right frequency. “Angel to House,” she typed.
The reply came quickly. “House here.” Marie started to type news of the detonation, but before she could, a second message came through: “Confirm receipt of the Cardinal.”
As she decoded the message, a rock seemed to form in her stomach. The message was talking about Julian. London had sent him and wanted to confirm that he landed.
Only he hadn’t. She hastily coded her reply: “Cardinal not received. Repeat Cardinal not received.”
There was no further response. The signal was lost or jammed. She could not tell if her message had gone through or not.
Marie struggled to breathe as she processed the information. London thought Julian had landed. Where was he? Had something happened to him, midflight or on the ground? It was impossible to know, but one thing was certain: if there was a possibility that Julian had landed, there was no way she could leave France.
Marie wanted to wait to see if there was a response from London, but she did not dare make Will sit in the plane on the ground any longer than necessary and risk capture. She looked at the radio once more. It was her only source of information about Julian now, and she couldn’t bear to destroy it. No one could use it without the crystals anyway.
Grabbing the crystals and silks once more, she turned and raced from the flat to meet Will.
Outside Marie forced herself to walk normally, adjusting her sweater as she started down the street. “Mademoiselle!” a male voice called in a loud whisper. She froze, certain it was the police or one of the Germans. It was just the bookseller, though, beckoning to her from across the street.
Marie hesitated. She didn’t have time to stop. She waved, hoping that would suffice. But he continued to gesture to her. Fearing someone else might see, Marie walked hurriedly to the shop.
“Bonsoir,” she said politely, stepping inside the empty shop. She had gone into the bookstore once or twice since her arrival, looking for something to read to pass the endless hours alone. They had never exchanged a word about that first night, when she had asked him for help with the mission. What could he possibly want with her now?