CHAPTER 15
Apparently Sidney had arranged for Captain Xavier to meet us at our hotel where our luggage and the Pierce-Arrow were currently stowed, for he peeled away from us with a jaunty wave as we exited the building. A light rain had fallen while we were inside, and the pavements were still damp.
“Interesting fellow,” he remarked as we strolled down the street arm in arm. He projected an apathetic mien, with his hands tucked in his pockets and his hat pulled low over his eyes, but I could sense the hum of attentiveness under the surface. “I gather he had a rather remarkable assignment during the war.”
I decided there was no reason not to reveal this secret. Not when he’d undoubtedly already deduced it for himself.
“He was planted in the German Army a few years before the start of the war. There were several of them fitted to that role, in fact. So he posed as a German officer for much of the war, stationed mostly on staff in Brussels. That is, until he was almost caught.”
If Sidney was at all surprised by this, he didn’t show it. “And I take it you had some interaction with him.”
“When necessary.”
His eyes dipped to mine and I cursed my choice of words. As if I found the prospect of working with Xavier distasteful.
“It was safer for someone like me to be seen fraternizing with him than the women who had to remain here,” I hastened to add, scrutinizing the passersby as we talked. “In the eyes of their neighbors, they would be tarred as whores and collaborators. The Allies even compiled lists of women suspected of intimate relations with the enemy, many of whom were included entirely because of hearsay.”
“Searching for your German admirer?”
I glanced up in startlement, and then realized he meant the man I had seen on the boat. “Yes, or the fellow from our séance.” I noticed his eyes were also scanning our surroundings. “Why? Have you seen him?”
“No, but shall I hail a taxicab anyway?”
“Yes, let’s.”
I wasn’t surprised this was done with minimal effort on his part, even given the general shortage of such vehicles. Once ensconced inside, I peered out the window, watching to see if anyone scrambled for their own conveyance. Though we had almost certainly lost them in Ostend, Brussels would have been the logical place for them to pick up their search. And the British Embassy, a few blocks from rue Stevin, would have been at the top of their list of places to try first.
“Have you paused to consider that you might be playing right into this person’s hands?”
I turned to find Sidney staring broodingly forward through the taxicab’s windscreen. That stubborn lock of his dark hair had fallen over his brow again, and he had not pushed it back, such was the evidence of his distraction.
His gaze shifted to meet mine. “Have you considered that you might be leading them straight to Emilie?”
I smoothed out my rumpled charcoal gray skirt, trying to calm the anxieties his words had stirred inside me. “Yes, actually. After all, it’s clear to me—if nothing else is—that Emilie has gone to ground, so to speak. And the likeliest solution to the riddle of Madame Zozza’s involvement and suspicious death, is that someone desperately wants to find her. I suppose that’s where I come in.” I realized I was worrying a loose string from the saddlebag pocket of my skirt and forced my fingers to still. “Whether the culprit is a fellow Secret Service agent who already knew of my connection, or I was recognized from our photograph in the newspapers, I am relatively easy to find. So they hoped to set me on the trail to either find Emilie or unearth this secret of hers for them.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because what other option do I have?” I retorted, as much frustrated with myself as I was with him. “If they’re so determined to find her that they’re willing to commit murder to cover their tracks, then if I don’t lead them to her, they’ll find her another way.” My hands clenched into fists. “I’m not about to let that happen. Not until I know what this is about.”
I turned to gaze out the window as we passed the imposing edifice of the Palais de Justice, which had been used as barracks for the German Army during the war. Its courtyard and all the grounds of Parc du Bruxelles, stretching to the Palais du Roi at the opposite end, had housed one large army camp. A place any self-respecting Belgian woman traveled miles around to avoid, except for the older women who drove the fruit and vegetable carts in from the countryside each morning to sell their goods. I had skirted the grounds of the camp only once, a considered risk I’d felt forced to take given the haste of my objective. Fortunately, I’d emerged unscathed, but I’d met plenty of women who had not.
“Intelligence work is all a matter of calculations,” I ruminated softly, trusting the driver could not hear us over the rumble of the engine. If he could understand English at all. “Taking the objectives, dividing the risks versus rewards, estimating the enemy’s plans, and solving to find your course of action. Sometimes the equation balances better than others. Sometimes the odds are not in your favor, but the importance of the objective outweighs all else.” I frowned. “This is a calculated risk I have to take. For Emilie.”
Sidney’s warm hand settled over mine where it rested on the seat. “Then we’ll just have to make certain no one follows us.”
I nodded, suddenly finding it hard to speak.
His fingers wove between mine, and I leaned my head to the side, resting it on his shoulder.
“She must be quite remarkable to inspire such devotion.” He spoke casually, but I heard the genuine curiosity behind his words.
“She saved me several times, from death or, at the least, from some very unpleasant experiences. But beyond that, she was a comrade.” I glanced up at him. “Would you not go to great lengths to protect your fellow officers, to shield the men who were under your command?”
This question was a rhetorical one, for he’d already proven what lengths he would go to to catch a traitor among their ranks.
His mouth curled wryly. “Point taken.” He dropped his gaze, watching his thumb rub along mine. “I suppose that’s also why you didn’t tell me about the map case and the buried report. After all, I never explained every detail of how I went about searching for proof of treason, just those that were necessary.”
I was glad he’d worked that out on his own and I wouldn’t have to explain this omission to him. However, it also left my heart feeling heavy.
“Yes. But sooner or later, if we’re going to make this marriage work, it seems we shall have to share some of those details of our lives during the war we would rather not,” I murmured, speaking as much to myself as to him.
“True.”
But the silence that fell made it quite obvious neither of us was eager to start.
* * *
Though there were several persons Alec Xavier could have adopted, and indeed I’d seen him shift between these with impunity, for some reason he’d elected to affect a manner of good cheer. Whether this was truly felt was a matter of debate. I was more interested in the fact that he’d taken it upon himself to befriend my husband. I couldn’t tell if this was working, for Sidney had always possessed an excellent poker face—no doubt improved by playing brag with his fellow officers at the front during the hours of monotony on rotation at the rear of the trenches. Whatever the truth, they were soon jesting and carrying on as if they’d been chums for ages. Meanwhile, I sat in the rear seat, shaking my head at their antics.
Having grown up with three brothers and scores of their friends, and later served with men in London, Holland, and the occupied territories, I was quite accustomed to their talk and traits. Though by no means were Sidney and Xavier crass or rude. I couldn’t imagine my husband ever speaking of a woman in a disrespectful manner or allowing someone else to. On the other hand, I was quite certain Xavier would stoop to do so if the situation called for it.
However, their bull session rather quickly grew tiresome. Fortunately, when we encountered yet another rain shower on the outskirts of Brussels, Sidney decided to stop at a café for us to grab a bite to eat. I wanted nothing so much as a strong drink, but I settled for coffee and sandwiches. Once I’d done what little I could to salvage my hair, which kinked in the damp air, I returned to the table to find our coffee had already been delivered.
“So how did the two of you meet?” Sidney asked as he settled back in his chair. “Or is that information too classified?”
I’d known the question was coming, but I was surprised by how quickly.
“If Verity trusts you, I suspect I can, too,” Alec replied, my given name tripping off his tongue. He’d insisted we call him Alec, and while I’d wanted to argue against it, not wishing to conjure that familiarity, my husband had already agreed. “The first time we met she was acting as a temporary courier.” He laughed suddenly. “And I don’t think either of us was what the other expected.”
I couldn’t help but smile in agreement. “That’s true enough.”
“As I’m sure Verity already told you, I was fitted into the German Army before the war. Sort of a man inside, if you will. I was stationed in the Kommandantur in Brussels, and my usual letter box where I dropped my intelligence reports had been compromised. So I’d been told to watch for a person wearing a blue cornflower. Naturally I expected a man with a boutonniere. But instead, in walked Verity with the flower tucked in her hair.”
“Yes, well, I was hardly expecting a German soldier to make the anticipated remark, ‘Ich denke, eine Rose passender wäre.’ I was told to pretend to attempt to secure a special pass to visit my ill sister, and I thought one of the Belgian clerks would approach me.”
“But before she could reach the front of the line, or one of the Bosche could get to her first, I pulled her into my office.”
I arched a single eyebrow. “You winked and told them I was being saucy, or rather the German equivalent.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yes, well, unfortunately that’s all that was required should a German officer take an interest in a girl.”
And I’d been trained well. One did not exhibit disgust or refuse an officer outright. Not unless you wanted a backhand across the face and possible confinement for one trumped-up charge or another. If you were lucky, like me, they stopped at groping. It didn’t bear thinking about what happened if you were less fotunate.
He chuckled. “I’ll never forget. There I was apologizing for standing much too close to her in order to shield her through the glass windows of my office from the others. Had to put on some sort of show for my fellow soldiers. And what does she say?” His eyes twinkled. “ ‘Well, at least you’re not a foul-smelling oaf. So, what have you got for me?’”
Contrary to what I’d expected, Sidney’s lips actually twitched. “Yes, that sounds like Verity.”
“Well, there was nothing for it but to brazen my way through,” I replied in my defense.
“I understood then why she had been sent as my temporary courier,” Alec said. “I admired her aplomb. And I requested her anytime I needed assistance after that.”
I was arrested in bringing my cup to my lips, not having been told this before. “You did?”
He nodded. “Too many of the male agents were bloody obvious. Not you. Even with your dirt-mussed auburn hair. You pulled that coded message from under my hatband where it rested on my desk, wrapped it around your hairpin, and secured it in your tresses without missing a beat. And all while having some strange fellow breathing down your neck.”
“Yes, but . . .” I halted, struggling to get the words out. “But I was the reason you were almost caught.”
He brushed that aside with a shake of his head as our food was set before us. “I told you before, it wasn’t. That oberst had been suspicious of me for some time. It would have happened eventually anyway. Besides, you risked your own safety to see that I was warned and extracted. So the argument is moot.”
I wasn’t certain I felt the same way, but I didn’t argue.
“What about you?” Alec gestured between the two of us after swiping his mouth with a napkin. “I knew you existed,” he told Sidney. “But I’m afraid it wasn’t safe for Verity to share much beyond that with me. So how did you meet?”
I launched into the tale, expecting him to interject a comment or two himself. But it became apparent he wasn’t listening, and I soon realized why. Across the café were seated two older women, fashioned after my mother’s ilk, and a rather anemic-looking young woman of about eighteen. They were speaking rapidly in English, and, if I should guess, had embarked on one of those macabre tours of the battlefields. Though apparently, they had not hired a tour company, but were determined to go it alone with only the illustrated guidebook the young woman was attempting to hide behind to direct them. Given the fact that they were sixty kilometers or more from the trenches of the Western Front, they weren’t doing a very good job of it thus far.
But their poor sense of direction was not my concern, nor Sidney’s, but rather the insensitive nature of their exchange. We weren’t the only ones bothered by it. Based on the sour looks some of the café staff sent their way, they seemed to have a good enough grasp of English to comprehend what they were saying.
The ladies’ conversation started with complaints about how hard it had been to find butter during the war, comments that, while insensitive to the Belgians who had faced much more serious food shortages than anything the British experienced, were relatively harmless. Then they progressed to a sort of back-and-forth competition of the various war committees to which they’d been appointed to the board, and the number of recruits they had signed up, just doing their bit. As if they should be ultimately thanked for those boys’ service and not the soldiers themselves. This smug, self-congratulatory prattle was vexing, but nothing I hadn’t heard before. However, their discussion devolved into a sort of callous comparison of their losses.
“Johnny received the MC, you know. So wonderful. But also sad, of course. Nearly wore myself to the bone with worry. But one must smile and carry on, knowing they died for the greater good.”
“So true. They say my Davy was called up to the worst sector. Such an eager, strong boy. If only he’d had longer to earn his distinction. But, of course, I’m still so proud. By Jove, my boy wasn’t a slacker. And neither was my girl.” She smiled at the young woman now slumping low in her seat. “She set such a noble example. Wouldn’t keep out of it. Simply had to join the VAD.”
I stared down at my coffee, now grown cold, trying to stifle the anger building inside me. I hated hearing this sort of talk. Not all of the older women were like this, thank heavens. Not all of them seemed so detached and heartless, determined to prove they’d done more, sacrificed more—than even their own flesh and blood—to the cause. I empathized with all the mothers who had lost their sons and daughters to the war, but I could not reconcile myself to these women who made the war a tally for their good works, who counted their children’s service and deaths as more a mark in their favor than a terrible tragedy.
And neither could Sidney, it seemed. Seeing the tension along the line of his neck, I reached out to take his hand underneath the table and found that he was shaking with fury. He gripped my fingers back, as if struggling to restrain himself. This was clearly his first encounter with their like, and I pressed my other hand gently to his arm, thinking to distract him.
“Let’s talk of something happier, shall we?” I suggested. Much as I wanted to give those women a piece of my mind, I knew it would do no good. For they could not hear how cold and insensitive their words were. In their minds, they were the victims, and any attempt to explain why their attitudes were so insulting would fall on deaf ears.
“Yes,” Alec agreed, catching on. “Tell me, who was the stroke during the Boat Race your final year at Oxford? I can’t recall. Was it Horsfall or Pitman?”
Sidney looked up from where he had been glaring at the table. The glint in his eye made it clear he didn’t give a fig for rowing—polo had always been his sport—nor did he care to be diverted. But then he relented, perhaps realizing we were only trying to help. “Horsfall,” he grunted.
But before Alec could respond, one of the women’s voices trilled with intensity. “Oh, if only my younger son Cecil had been old enough to serve! I should have happily given him to the cause as well.”
At this last, Sidney could stand it no more. He rose from his chair, rounding on them like a tiger. “Would you? Would you happily sacrifice his youth, his sanity, his very life to gratify your vanities, without a thought to his wishes, without a care to the horrors he’ll never be able to forget?” he snarled. “I suppose you would spill the blood from every last Englishman to indulge your conceits, spill enough to flood the sodding trenches.” He stabbed his finger at his chest, leaning forward to hiss at them. “Well, I held the hands of those whelps you recruited, I watched the life drain from their eyes, and I can tell you they cared naught for your self-righteous patriotism. They died begging to know why you lied.”
He whirled away from the cowering women and stormed off through the door out into the light patter of rain. For a moment, no one moved or even dared to speak.
Then one of the women lowered her hand from where she had been clutching her bosom. “Well, I never,” she exhaled in protest. “How abominably rude. And he’s one of our countrymen. If it were the French, or one of these Belgians, I shouldn’t be so shocked. But an Englishman.”
“It must be shell shock,” the other woman murmured in a hushed voice, though not low enough I couldn’t hear it. “My sister’s son had to be confined to a hospital.” She darted a glance at me before looking away. “They say it’s caused by cowardice.”
I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, lest I stride across the café and slap both women across the face.
But the truth was, I was also shaken by the vehemence of Sidney’s outburst. Before the war, his emotions had always been so contained. He would have made some scathing quip, but he would never have allowed his anger to get the better of him.
I didn’t know how to deal with this new side of him. This man whose pain was at times so raw, so exposed, and yet he refused to talk about it. Though he hadn’t directly admitted, I knew he was bothered by the number of men who had died or suffered under his command. It was evident in the way he spoke of them, in the way he interacted with them, like that man at the Savoy. In the way he’d risked everything to uncover the traitor who had been responsible for at least some of the men in his battalion’s deaths.
It was also apparent how much he despised lies. It was as if he’d been fed more than one man could handle, and perhaps had been forced to dish out a fair share of his own, all in the name of the greater good, and he simply could no longer stomach them.
The thought made my own stomach churn with dread. For while I’d not directly lied to him, I also hadn’t been completely honest. Not yet. And now I was even more afraid of how he would react when I was.
Not that I thought he would strike me. Sidney had never been the violent type. But then again, how did I know exactly how much war had changed him?
Still, I thought it more likely my confession might turn whatever affection he still felt for me to hatred. And whatever became of us, I didn’t want it to end that way.
“Have you told him?”
I looked up into Alec’s keen brown eyes, unsurprised he’d divined my thoughts. After all, he was a very good agent.
“About us?” he clarified, as if I needed it.
I inhaled an unsteady breath, sitting taller. “No. And don’t you dare say anything. I’ll do it in my own time.”
He dipped his head once in acknowledgment. “Just . . . don’t wait too long. You must be aware he already suspects. And the longer you wait, the harder it will be for him to forgive.”
I wanted to take offense. I wanted to argue that it hadn’t been my fault I hadn’t known he wasn’t really dead. But I knew none of that mattered. Not really. So I simply nodded.