“And tell them what? It was a covert program, wholly sanctioned. Where do you think authorization came from in the first place?” It had not just been the Director, but the highest levels of government that had approved the plan. She saw then the full extent of the betrayal.
“I’ll go to the newspapers.” Something had to be done.
“Eleanor, have you stopped to think of your own role in the affair? You knew that the transmissions were suspicious. Yet you continued to transmit the information over the same frequencies to the same operator.”
Eleanor was stunned. “You can’t be suggesting...”
“You even sent the message signaling that Julian would be returning to the field. And when the operator said to switch landing fields, you okayed that as well. You sent Julian to his death, Eleanor. You didn’t press harder because you knew on many levels that no matter what, the mission had to go forward.”
“How dare you?” Eleanor felt her cheeks go red with anger. “I never would have done anything to jeopardize Julian—or my girls.”
But the Director continued, “And make no mistake about it. Your name is on all of the outgoing transmissions. If that gets out, the world will know that you are to blame.
“I never wanted it to come to this.” The Director’s voice softened. “I thought it was all in the past when you left SOE. But you couldn’t leave well enough alone. And then that business with Violet’s father. He brought his questions to his MP and they said there was to be a parliamentary inquiry. I sent off the files I could to Washington.”
“And burned the rest,” she said. He did not reply. The truth was almost too awful to believe—the Director had destroyed Norgeby House, the very place they had worked so hard to build, to bury the truth forever. “You sent me off, too,” she added slowly as the realization came to her.
“I kept receiving reports of you asking questions,” he admitted. “You wouldn’t leave it alone. I thought getting you out of London, sending you to look into things in France, would buy time.” He hadn’t counted on her getting to Germany and speaking with Kriegler. But she had, and the things she learned had changed everything.
“So what are we going to do about it?” she asked.
“There is nothing to be done. Parliament will conduct its investigation and find nothing and it will all go away.”
“What do you mean? We have to let the truth be known, tell Parliament.”
“For what, so they can further denigrate the work we did at SOE? They’ve always said we were inconsequential, even damaging, and we are to give them proof to support it? SOE is my legacy and yours, too.” He would do anything to keep that intact. “The truth changes nothing, Eleanor. The girls are gone.”
But to her, the truth had to prevail.
“Then I’ll go myself.” The words were an echo of the threat she had made when she suspected the radios. If she had made good on it then and followed through, some of the girls might be alive today. But she hadn’t. The threat this time was not a hollow one. She had nothing left to lose. “I’ll go to the commission myself.”
“You can’t. It’s your word against mine. Who do you think they’ll believe—a disgruntled former secretary, or the decorated colonel who headed the agency with distinction?” He was right. She just as easily might have betrayed the girls. There was simply no truth to contradict him.
Unless there was a witness. “Kriegler said one of the girls never made it to the concentration camp where the others perished. That she might still be alive. Do you know anything about that?”
An uneasy look crossed the Director’s face. “I received a visit from one of the girls not long after the war. She wanted help expediting a visa to the States. I helped her because it seemed like the right thing to do.”
More likely he was happy to send her as far away as possible. “Which one was it?” Eleanor asked.
“The one you never thought could do the job, oddly enough. And ironically, the one whose transmissions were being faked by the Germans—Marie Roux.”
She brought her hand to her mouth. What Kriegler had told her was true.
“She survived SD interrogation and Fresnes prison. Tough as nails, in the end, and damn lucky.”
Joy surged within Eleanor, but it was quickly replaced by anger. The Director had known and had not told her. “What did you tell her? About the arrests, I mean.”
A look flickered across the Director’s face. “I told her nothing.”
She couldn’t believe anything he said anymore. “Where is she?”
“Leave her alone. Let her move on with her life.”
But Marie was the one person who knew that Eleanor had nothing to do with betraying the girls. She was the only one who could corroborate the truth about what happened to the Vesper circuit. “The address.” She could tell from his expression that he was going to refuse. “Or I will leave here and go directly to Parliament.” She held out her hand.
He started to argue, then turned wearily to the file cabinet behind him. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to her. “Eleanor, I’m sorry.” She took it from him, not responding.
Then she tucked the paper in her bag and began the last leg of her journey.
* * *
It was almost eight thirty on a Tuesday morning when Eleanor stood in the center of Grand Central, waiting anxiously. Before leaving England, she had wired Marie: “Coming to America and I need your help. Please meet me at the information kiosk in Grand Central on February 12 at 8:30 a.m.”
Eleanor stood uncertainly in the center of the station now, suitcase in hand. The flight had been a hot, noisy affair, making stops in Shannon, Gander and Boston before finally reaching New York. She’d arrived by plane the previous night and taken a room by the airport. As the hands on the clock reached half past eight, she looked around anxiously. She had arranged the neutral meeting point rather than going to the address the Director had given her, fearing it would be too much.
Five minutes passed, then ten. Why hadn’t Marie shown? Had she not received the message? The message the Director had given her might have been outdated or wrong. Or perhaps she was angry at Eleanor for what she thought Eleanor had done, and was refusing to meet her at all.
Eleanor set down her suitcase, which had grown heavy, beneath a bench. She looked around the station, contemplating her options. There was a message board at the side of the round information kiosk, little bits of paper stuck to it. She walked closer. There were pictures of missing soldiers and refugees from families seeking information. There were notes, too, about meetings or missed meetings. She scanned the board, but did not see anything addressed to her.