“You don’t pay my wages. She does.”

The French clerk rolled her eyes behind the Englishman’s back. I stepped forward, curiosity making its way through my fog of grief. “Sir—you wouldn’t happen to be Captain Cameron?” He didn’t match the image I’d been building of Cameron, but what other English officer would come running from Bordeaux on Eve’s call?

“Cameron? That sad old fraud?” The visitor gave a snort, contemptuous. “I’m Major George Allenton, and I’m wasting valuable time here, so you scamper up those stairs, girl, and tell Miss Gardiner I’m here.”

“No.” It sounded like insolence, but it was just exhaustion. Quite honestly I didn’t see why I should stir a finger for anyone this rude. I was glad he wasn’t Captain Cameron. I’d liked Eve’s stories of him.

The major looked at me, face reddening, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, but all at once he deflated. “Fine,” he said, fumbling in his pocket. “You tell that sour skinny old maid the War Office owes her no more favors, regardless of what she’s done for us in the past.” He slapped a flat black case into my hand. “And she can throw these down the loo if she likes, but I’m done keeping them for her.”

“When did you know her?” Finn asked as the major clapped his hat to his head.

“Both wars, she worked for me. And I wish she’d never been recruited for the first one, that hitch-tongued deceitful bitch.”

Finn and I stared at each other as the major stamped away. Finally I opened the case, expecting to see—what? Jewels, documents, a ticking bomb? With Eve you never knew. But it was medals: four of them, pinned precisely across a card.

“The Medaille de Guerre, the Croix de Guerre with palm, the Croix de la Legion d’Honneur . . .” Finn let out a low whistle. “And that’s the Order of the British Empire.”

I released a slow breath. Eve wasn’t just a former spy. She was a decorated heroine, a legend of the past for whom senior army officers still jumped even if they disliked her. I touched the O.B.E. with a fingertip. “If she’d been awarded these years ago, why wouldn’t she take them?”

“I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 26

EVE

October 1915

Lili managed one muttered instruction as she and Eve were frog-marched into the station. The Germans were shouting, alarms blared, and under the furor Lili murmured through motionless lips, Pretend you don’t know me. I’ll get you out of this.

Eve gave a minuscule shake of the head, not daring to look at Lili. They were being rushed along by a pair of hulking soldiers, Lili half-hoisted off her feet, Eve’s arms in such a tight grip her hands were going numb. The terror hadn’t quite caught up yet; Eve’s thoughts darted like mice at a sudden light. But her refusal came reflexively: she could not walk away free, leaving Lili in German hands. Never.

But another burst of shouting came, and Lili’s lips shaped one word.

Verdun.

Eve froze. The massive attack planned against Verdun next year. Captain Cameron in Tournai, waiting for the report. The paper slip with all the attack’s details, wrapped around the inner band of a ring on Lili’s right hand. Dear God, if the Germans found that—

But there was no more time to think, to exchange so much as a desperate glance. They were hustled inside the station, past a telephone and a cluster of German soldiers, and the German captain snapped orders. “Separate them, I will put out a warning—” Eve found herself flung into a narrow room overlooking the street. A half dozen German soldiers were there already, partially dressed, yawning through their morning routine. A young blond sergeant in his undershirt gaped at Eve, and another was shaving in a bucket of water. Eve stared back, keeping her eyes from hunting for an escape. There was none. They’d be on her like a pack of wolves if she moved an inch toward the window. To her left was another door with a glass pane, looking into an even smaller room, and Eve’s throat closed as she saw Lili shoved inside. Her hat was gone and her blond hair coming down in a tangle; she looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s skirt and blouse. But she caught herself against the room’s long counter, eyes glittering and her mouth curving in a smile, and she stripped off her gloves as though preparing to sit down to tea.

“No one t-t-touch me!” Eve cried out suddenly, eyes flying among the German soldiers around her. None of them had made a move; they were all too surprised, but she gave a shrill scream anyway. She wanted them looking at her, not through the window at Lili who was swiftly prising off the ring on her right hand and going for the slip of paper wrapped around its band. “Don’t touch me,” Eve shrieked, and the youngest soldier stepped forward as if in reassurance. Eve stared past him at Lili, who still smiled that half smile. She watched as her companion popped the paper slip into her mouth and swallowed it.

The German captain flew screaming through the door of Lili’s cell before Eve could feel any pangs of relief. He saw, he saw . . . Gripping Lili by the neck, the captain tried to force his fingers into her mouth. She sealed her teeth, baring them at him like a wolverine, and he flung her away in disgust. Boots stamped through the corridor outside in a rush, and Eve sank to the floor and started to sob. Not just because Lili had been caught disposing of a message, but because Marguerite would sob. Marguerite would be terrified and innocent and have no idea who that woman in the other room was. Eve wanted to fly at these German pigs and tear their throats out, but she had a job to do.

Verdun.

So she huddled against the floor weeping as German boots moved uneasily about her. The soldiers stared and murmured, which Eve ignored because of course Marguerite understood no German past ja and nein. Her every screaming nerve focused on the next room where there was no sound—none at all—from the leader of the Alice Network.

They won’t know she’s its leader, Eve thought harshly. They don’t know what a prize they have in her. But she still saw a nightmare image of Lili shoved up against a wall like Edith Cavell. Blindfolded, her hands bound, an X marked on her bosom for the guns to aim at. Lili crumpling to the ground, probably still smiling.

No, Eve screamed inside, but she knew how to use her own horror, how to let the image bring another flood of tears. Tears and abject helplessness would help more than any show of courage. No one feared a helpless, weeping girl.

It wasn’t long before a policeman came, and with him a grim-looking woman in green serge whom Eve recognized. She frequently assisted at German checkpoints, a merciless bitch Lili had nicknamed the Frog for her green uniform and greedy padlike fingers as she searched people’s belongings. She looked down at Eve now, hard-faced, and barked out one word in French. “Undress.”