June 1917, Paris, France
Lieutenant McDougall looked exhausted when Evette met him in his office.
“Are you all right, monsieur?” she asked as she sat across from him.
He rubbed his eyes with his fists and fought back a yawn. “The Germans seemed aware of our plans this spring. My superiors think I should have done more to prevent the information getting out.” The spring offensives had resulted in a high death toll with few gains, giving the two of them long hours but little to show for it.
Evette glanced at the men sitting behind their desks in the large open office or pacing away in smaller private rooms. She wondered which of them had chastised McDougall. “You did everything you could. We’ve followed up on every lead, and you caught nearly everyone.”
“I didn’t catch Lohr.”
Evette folded her arms. “No.”
McDougall stared out the window. “Somehow they knew. I wonder if he was their source.”
Lohr seemed behind everything Evette had been fighting, but she didn’t think it fair for the other officers to blame McDougall. He’d done his best, and she doubted Lohr was the only one who had known about the Chemin des Dames offensive. “It was an open secret. People talked about it in cafés and wrote letters about it. Anyone could have found out and passed the information on.”
He turned back toward her and leaned forward. “I have another problem just as big.”
“Another secret to keep?”
“Yes. One I am not sure can be kept. The French Army is in a poor state.”
“Near the end of their strength, I imagine.” The casualties that spring had been horrendous, and if Emile was a typical example, the army had been exhausted long before April.
“More serious than that. Mutiny.”
Evette gasped. “Mutiny?”
“Yes. And if the Germans find out . . .”
“They could break through the lines and end the war.”
McDougall nodded. “We are in a bit of a spot. No one is sure how far the unrest will spread. Censors are blocking news of it for now, and the French have the most mutinous units contained. But it only takes one spy to inform the Germans that large numbers of French troops are no longer willing to fight, and then disaster. We’ve got to round up the German spy networks once and for all.”
“But how?” They’d already investigated or arrested everyone suspicious other than Lohr.
“I have permission to try something risky. We will release one of the spies we have already caught. Tell him the evidence against him was insufficient so he thinks he is really free. Follow him and see who he meets. We shall have to watch him around the clock, watch everyone he comes in contact with. Hope we are led to the right network. I plan to release someone who knows nothing about the mutiny, of course, but that doesn’t mean he can’t learn of it and tell the wrong people.”
“Like playing with a live grenade . . . but if we don’t try, we may not have any leads.”
“Exactly.” McDougall smiled slightly. It made him seem younger, more at ease. “Can I enlist your help?”
“Of course. Who are you releasing?”
“The man you found a few months ago who was planning to blow up train cars full of munitions. He had contact with the saboteur and the guards, and he must have contact with someone higher up.”
“The one who owned the dog?” Evette remembered him, but she didn’t think he would remember her face, which made her job easier.
McDougall paused as if searching his memory. “Yes. His name is Raoul Simon.”
“When will you release him?”
“Tomorrow. Midafternoon.”
Evette straightened in the chair. “I’ll be ready.”
“I shall see you have assistance. I want at least one set of eyes on Simon around the clock. Can you be here tomorrow at three in the afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“I knew I could count on you.” His gaze locked on her face, as it often did. “You know, Evette, you have beautiful eyes. Like a meadow after the rain.”
Evette was silent for an awkward second, unsure what to say. No one other than her mother and Claire had complimented her before. “Thank you, sir.”
“You can call me Howard, remember?”
“Thank you, Howard.”
* * *
Evette spent the next six evenings tailing the released prisoner. Perhaps exulting in his new freedom, Simon ate well for supper, then took long strolls along the boulevards, making it difficult for her to follow him without being seen. She was forced to monitor him from a distance, left to hope the newspapers he purchased were simply for reading and didn’t contain any secret messages. After he bought a paper from the same newspaperwoman the third day in a row, she suggested McDougall investigate the lady, but nothing came of it.
The following week, Evette loitered at cafés while he shopped at bookstores, sat on park benches while he spent his mornings at home, and wondered if something was finally happening when he left his apartment late one night. The sun had set, so it was easy to follow him as he walked five blocks to the east, then circled around the neighborhood. She worried he had seen her, but he doubled back without really looking around, as if following a set procedure rather than instinctively checking his back.
He eventually went into a home set back from the street with a yard full of overgrown bushes. Perhaps the inhabitants had lost their gardener to mobilization just as the Donovans had. Whatever the reason behind the neglect, the unruly vines made it easy for Evette to sneak through the iron gate and move toward the home without being seen.
Approaching the house benefited her little because the windows were darkened with blackout curtains. Something in her gut told her this wasn’t an ordinary social call. She hesitated in the overgrowth. How long should she wait? Simon had already dined, but there were plenty of other possibilities.
Then a second man strode from the street to the home—Lohr.
Simon had become so monotonous that she was the only one watching him that night. Should she wait and tail Lohr instead? Or follow her instructions and stick to the original target? Lohr. That was the best option. But she also wanted to know what the two men would say to each other.
She crept around the house until she found a back door. It was locked. A nearby window, however, opened with only the faintest of squeaks, and she assumed the wind would disguise the slight sound. She had grown proficient using windows for entry and exit while trying to avoid her half brother.
Living with Gaspard had also taught her to walk silently, so she stepped first with the outside of her foot before putting her full weight on the floor as she crossed a kitchen illuminated by the embers of a dying fire. The kitchen exited into a dining hall. When she was halfway across the massive room, the sound of male voices suddenly sounded, coming closer. In panic, she looked around. Candles lit the room, but they revealed no hiding spots, and she didn’t have time to search out the broom closet. A clean cloth covered the long table in the room’s center, the edges reaching to the seat of each chair. She ducked under the table and stretched herself across four of the chairs. She was invisible there as long as no one pulled a chair out.
“I sent the cook and housekeeper to their quarters. Checked all the windows before you arrived.”
“Hmm. But how did you get out of prison to meet me in the first place?”
“They let me out. Said they didn’t have sufficient evidence to keep me.”
“Lack of evidence usually doesn’t stop them from holding someone who might be a danger to them.”
“I have a few connections. Perhaps they assisted me anonymously.”
The other man chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Few people assist anonymously. They’d rather have credit, a reason to call in favors later.”
“I told you I wasn’t followed. I completed all the precautions you gave me.”
“A source told me the British released a prisoner so they could follow him. I assume my source meant you.”
Under the table, Evette nearly gasped. Lohr had a source who knew McDougall’s plans?
Lohr continued. “Perhaps you succeeded in boring your tails.”
“There weren’t any tails.”
“Or the tails are more skilled than you. Do you have any information for me?”
“No. I didn’t dare look up my old contacts until I saw you. Besides, I don’t have direction on how to proceed, nor the necessary funds. And if you think I’m being followed, perhaps I should delay further.”
There was a pause and the sound of pacing. “I need you to get back to work. We need action. Just make sure you aren’t followed. Hire all the saboteurs you can, use your previous contacts to determine the best targets. But be careful.”
“I’ll need money to hire saboteurs.”
“I used what I had to bribe my source in British intelligence. He’s expensive. Told me they have sources in Essen and in Munich but couldn’t tell me anything about them. Said he needs more time to get his information and more money if he’s to disclose it. I’m going back to Germany tomorrow. I’ll bring what you need when I return in a few months.” She heard the scratch of pen on paper above her on the table. “Another contact. One I knew before the war. He’s not an idealist, so don’t talk politics. But he can arrange funding if you say you’re with the League.”
Evette wished she could see what was written on the paper, wished they would name the source who had told Lohr about McDougall’s plans.
Footsteps sounded, and the men moved farther away.
“I haven’t learned much on this trip,” Lohr said. “Almost nothing to speak of as far as useful intelligence, so I need results from you soon.”
After that the voices were too muted for Evette to make out. She took a few deep breaths. She hadn’t been discovered. Lohr didn’t know about the mutinies. But Lohr did have multiple sources, and unless rearrested, Simon would soon been conducting sabotage projects all across Paris.
Evette slid from her hiding place and rushed to the window. She lifted the pane as she heard the front door close and voices, probably the servants, chattering a few rooms away. She waited until the men were out of the garden before following them, knowing she was leaving two windows open, something that would surely arouse suspicion. Regardless of the risk, she wanted to follow Lohr. Perhaps they could catch him before his return to Germany.
But when she reached the road, both men had disappeared. The only sign of life was a horse-drawn carriage turning the corner at the end of the street. She checked again that neither Lohr nor Simon was visible, then ran after the carriage. When she followed it around the corner, it was gone.