December 1917, Paris, France
Warren had been reluctant to go to Paris. When he’d received Evette’s letter, he’d put the journey off for a few days. Only when a thick squall rolled in and prevented flying did he finally answer her summons. Her letter had said she would wait in a park at eleven in the morning each day, and she was there, on a bench, huddled under an umbrella when he finally arrived. He almost felt guilty for not coming until a rainy day, but he had his squadron to lead.
They exchanged greetings and started walking together. Even though he had committed not to talk about her, Warren found himself asking, “How is Claire?”
“She spends a lot of time playing the piano.”
“What is she playing?”
Evette didn’t answer right away. “Sad songs mostly.” They walked a few more paces. “She still loves you, Captain Flynn, and she’s miserable without you, but she’s not ready to lose her father. She already lost her mother. I think she’s hoping she won’t have to choose between the two most important men in her life.”
“And if she does have to choose between us, who do you think she’ll pick?”
Evette looked away.
“Exactly. She already picked her father.” Warren stomped away before remembering he was taking his anger out on the wrong person. “I’m sorry, Miss Touny. I just . . .”
“You just hurt inside. So does Claire. Maybe more than you, because she feels guilty too. She wants to be stronger, but it takes time to build the kind of tenacity that can walk away from her current life into something that might only last a few months.”
“So you and Claire both think I’m unlikely to survive the war, do you?”
Evette was quiet for a while. “It’s only that so many are gone already. But if you can just keep from dying, something tells me Claire will change her mind.”
“Just keep from dying. Sounds so simple.” Memories of Captain Prior and Flight Sergeant Boyle and dozens of other men came to his mind.
“You still want to marry her, don’t you?”
Warren still loved Claire, but her decision to side with her father had hurt deeply, like a piece of broken propeller wedged into his heart. Part of him needed some change from her, some assurance that if they were married, her first loyalty would be to her husband, not to her father. Another part of him knew all she had to say was one word, and he’d instantly forgive her. “Yes.”
“Then be patient. She loves you.”
“But if her father never comes around, will she ever love me enough to leave him?”
Evette’s brow crinkled. “I want to say yes. But I don’t know.”
At least she was being honest. Warren was grateful for that. “Does McDougall ever talk to you about the future?”
“Only the future of my next assignment.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should talk some sense into him.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Captain. We’ve time enough to sort personal matters out later.”
“So where is McDougall? If he needs help, he usually asks me directly.”
Evette glanced around the sidewalk, making sure they were alone. “He went to rescue a spider.”
“Spider’s in trouble?”
“You know him?”
“I flew him to his current assignment. Haven’t heard much since. What type of trouble?”
Evette seemed suddenly reticent, as if she wasn’t sure she could discuss espionage with Warren.
“Please, Miss Touny. We’re on the same side. And I like the Frenchman. I don’t want something to happen to him if I can do anything to help.”
“We think someone knows who he is.”
“Give me details.”
“It starts with a man named Lohr. I don’t suppose you know who he is, but—”
“McDougall mentioned him,” Warren said. “Saboteur and spymaster, working for the Germans. Somehow manages to sneak back and forth between Paris and Essen.”
“Yes. And Lohr has a source in British Intelligence, someone who knows about Spider and another man in Munich. The source sells the information. When Lohr came this summer, he only discovered the location of the spies. But if he’s come back and the man is still willing to sell secrets, he might provide names or summaries of what our spies have learned.”
“So the next time Lohr goes to Essen, Spider will be arrested and executed.”
Evette nodded, worry lines appearing around her lips as she frowned. “McDougall went to get Spider out before it’s too late. He wanted you to help me figure out who’s behind the leaks. It will be someone who outranks McDougall, someone with access to his project as well as whoever is running the spy in Munich.”
“How did McDougall plan to sneak in?”
“He didn’t say, but the last three times he’s had a friend with a small ship sail him to Holland. Then he sneaks across the border with a Dutch contact, and they pretend to be in Germany on business. Or he pretends he’s an injured soldier on convalescence leave.”
“He’s doing that for a fourth time?”
“I think so.”
Warren shook his head. “Four times is pushing it. He should have called me. I can fly in and out in a night.” Warren looked at the sky. The wind blew from the east, and on the eastern horizon, he could pick out clear sky. The weather just might cooperate with him. “You don’t know how Lohr sneaks in and out of France?”
“No.”
“Then he may very well beat McDougall there and set a trap to catch them both. I’m flying to Essen. Tonight, if the weather allows. Finding the traitor can wait a few days.”
* * *
Warren went back to his aerodrome and spent the afternoon studying maps and questioning a pilot who had been shot down on the German side of the front and then escaped through the electrified fence separating occupied Belgium from the Netherlands. He had avoided a fatal shock by shoving a wooden cask between the wires and crawling through. Warren planned to fly out, but now he had a second option.
That night Evette helped Warren break into McDougall’s office through a back window so Warren could see Spider’s file. He had a feeling she’d done it before because it went far more smoothly than he would have expected. He read Olivier’s reports and looked over another map of Essen. Spider’s temporary home was within a mile of the Krupp factories in the Altendorf district, and he shared the dwelling with the Sauer and Kallweit families.
“Here.” Evette handed him a paper. “It’s a letter from Frau Von Hayek, one of McDougall’s Dutch contacts, married to a German man. She sent this a year ago while visiting family in Holland. She recommended Spider to his current position. If he’s in danger, so is she.”
Warren skimmed the letter and copied the address he needed. “I’ll try to warn her too. Maybe she can leave via Holland and catch McDougall before he gets to Essen.” He studied the map again. A wide field lay only a few miles from the Sauer home. He had noticed it on an old map at the aerodrome and felt that field was his best option. He checked four other possible fields on the more recent map and eliminated two, leaving him with three choices. Warren glanced at his watch. “I want to make it in tonight, so I better get back to the airfield.”
They snuck out the same unlocked back window. Before they parted, Warren turned to Evette. “If something happens to me, will you tell Claire I still loved her?”
“Yes. But come back to her. She needs you.”
“Not as much as she needs her father.”
“Give her some time, Captain.”
Warren nodded, not in agreement but because he needed to get to his plane. His relationship with Claire was too complicated to sort out just then. Other things were higher priority, like saving Olivier and McDougall from Lohr.
The moon was bright, and the sky had cleared when Warren reached his aerodrome, driving the car he’d borrowed from the intelligence officer. He sought out Major Cook to explain his plan.
“That Sopwith isn’t your personal property, Captain.”
“Yes, but this is official war business. And I’d actually like to borrow a spotter plane instead of my scout. I hope I’ll need the extra seat.”
Cook hesitated only an instant before agreeing. “Make sure you bring it back in one piece.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Canada?”
“Yes, sir?”
“See that you come back in one piece too.”
* * *
Warren vaguely remembered the countryside surrounding Essen from his flight two years before. Astounding, really, that Spider had lasted so long. His preferred landing strip bordered what looked like forest and a long stream. He hoped the map was accurate and that the field hadn’t been turned into a practice artillery range or a training field for new conscripts. His other options would involve longer walks.
He flew over Essen to confirm his position. The people below would be able to hear him, and some would even recognize the sound as an airplane engine, but most Germans who could identify the type by its engine noise would be near the front line.
He banked back to the west, picked out the unmistakable outline of the Krupp factories, and switched his engine off to lower his airspeed. A few minutes later, he saw the stream glowing in the moonlight and dipped toward the enemy earth. The field was rough when he touched down, but the sturdy reconnaissance plane held. While the engine was still running, he drove the plane into the forest where it would be better hidden. He finally turned the engine off, then spent the next hour sawing off tree branches and using them to camouflage the spotter.
He went through his knapsack, keeping part of the food, leaving the saw and the spare airplane parts. He had extra petrol in the observer’s seat. He’d refuel when he got back, then leave the petrol can behind.
Before leaving France, he had changed into civilian clothing. To German eyes, he was now a spy. He took the two-mile walk to the Sauer estate cautiously, pausing often to make sure no one could see him. He could speak a few phrases in German, but they wouldn’t sound like they’d come from a native.
When the manor came into view, Warren waited, trying to figure out how best to approach it and find Olivier without disturbing the other residents. He hadn’t expected the home to have so many rooms. If he wanted to return tonight, he should grab Olivier now and head back to the plane. But there was also the woman who had arranged Spider’s position. If they waited one day, they could warn her too, and Warren could wait until Olivier appeared instead of trying to break into the home to search for him. The plane was reasonably well hidden in a quiet area. Once he made contact with Olivier, he could return to make sure it stayed safe.
It was a cold night, but he’d endured the cold before, and he had food. At least it was dry, and he was wearing appropriate clothing. Warren positioned himself where he could see anyone leaving the side or front doors and sat down to wait.