The Lost Girls of Paris

by Pam Jenoff

  She slid the charge in place. As she did, she felt a rumbling in the distance. An air raid, she thought, reminded of the years of terror in London. But as the sound grew louder and the bridge began to shake, she realized that a train was coming. There was no time to climb down. It was nearing now, shaking the entire bridge and threatening to knock the detonator from its place. Marie clung to the detonator with one hand and a bolt with the other, trying desperately not to let go. For once in her life, she would not run away or be afraid. The train roared overhead. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying she could hang on.

  At last the train crossed the bridge and the shaking subsided. Marie rechecked that the detonator was secure, and climbed down from the bridge with shaking legs. At the base, she paused to catch her breath. She looked in both directions and started across the bridge. She should go slowly, she knew, staying in the shadow of the pylons to avoid being seen. There was no path for pedestrians, though, and a train might come at any time. She ran along the track, feeling naked and exposed, reaching for the other side.

  * * *

  She made it to the landing field on time.

  When Marie reached the flat, barren strip of land, it appeared deserted and she wondered if she was too late and Will had retrieved Julian and gone on without her. But there were small stakes in the ground, ready to be lit as soon as the plane neared. She saw Will then by the cover of the trees.

  “Any sign?” she asked as she neared. Will shook his head. She was flooded with disappointment. Julian might have been here by now. Marie pushed down the feeling of uneasiness that formed in her throat. A few hours did not mean anything. There was a window of time when a plane might be able to land. The pilot might have been delayed, or circled around due to fog or fear of detection.

  “We should wait out of sight.” He led her from the open field of trees. One had fallen and behind it the ground was hollowed out to form a small ravine. He sunk to the ground and gestured for her to do the same.

  A chill came into the air, and she shivered, feeling the wetness from the river that lingered in her boots. She wished for a fire, though, of course, that was impossible. She moved closer to Will, not caring if he minded. She stared out across the darkened field, wishing for a sign of Julian. He wasn’t there. She could almost see his silhouette stepping from the shadows, smile cocked even as his eyes were terse and alert. But it was a mirage, a figment of her mind. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and hope turned to disappointment, then to worry.

  She leaned against a tree and closed her eyes, too nervous to sleep. Then she sat up with a start as there came a noise from above, something filmy seeming to fall from the night sky.

  A parachute!

  She leaped to her feet and ran heedlessly into the field. They must have dropped him because it wasn’t safe to land. As the parachute lowered, she sidestepped to avoid being crushed. “I told you I would come back,” Julian said.

  A buzzing sound overhead awoke her suddenly. Her eyes snapped open. She was still sleeping in the darkness of the woods. The reunion had been a dream. Still no Julian. She had shifted slightly from the tree trunk to leaning on Will’s shoulder. He had put his arm around her for warmth. Hurriedly they straightened, separating. “Anything?” He shook his head.

  The night sky remained dark but it was beginning to pinken at the horizon. It was too late now. Julian’s plane wasn’t going to show.

  She looked into the blankness above, searching for answers about what happened. “Could the landing information have been mistaken?” she pressed.

  “I’ve never known it to be. It was quite certain.” Though he didn’t say more, the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. Julian was supposed to be here. Something had gone horribly wrong.

  Marie stared into the sky, which was turning to gray as dawn neared, willing the whole thing to be a bad dream. “Perhaps the plane will still come,” she said, feigning hope.

  But knowing the protocol and unwilling to pretend, Will shook his head. “Not enough fuel. Too close to dawn.” He rattled off rapid-fire the reasons it was impossible.

  “You said that the delivery was confirmed. What could have happened?”

  “I don’t know. Anyway, we can’t wait any longer. If it wasn’t safe for him to land, then it likely isn’t safe for us to be here.” Marie’s skin prickled with fear. “We have to go.” Will’s voice was insistent.

  He stood and started for the trees. Leave and come back the next day at the same time; that was the protocol when a scheduled drop or landing did not happen. Marie lingered behind a moment. Despite the danger, she did not want to leave the spot that was their best—and perhaps only—hope of reuniting with Julian. The hours until they could try again stretched out in front of her, dark and agonizing. Will was right, though. Every second here risked capture and death, not just for themselves but the other agents and the locals who helped them.

  “Maybe he had orders to stay,” Marie suggested, as she caught up with Will in the woods.

  “That wouldn’t stop Julian,” Will replied firmly. “My cousin would always come back.”

  Only he hadn’t. That could only mean that something was very, very wrong.

  “He’ll come at the second drop,” Will said, trying to force confidence in his voice.

  “But we can’t wait,” Marie realized. “The bridge. It’s set to go off tonight.” She saw the alarm behind Will’s eyes. She had set the timer on the explosive, as instructed, to detonate at ten o’clock tonight, after nightfall. The plan had been to get Julian and he would lead them to ground.

  Only now that was impossible. They couldn’t flee without Julian; they didn’t have his extensive knowledge of who could be trusted, where they could safely hide. “Go to the flat,” Will instructed, seeming to form a plan as he spoke. “Make it look as though you never lived there. Destroy everything you cannot conceal or carry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am flying you out of France tonight.”

  “But we can’t just leave,” she protested. “We have to be here to receive Julian.”

  “Marie, he isn’t coming,” Will said, acknowledging the truth to himself as he said it aloud for the first time.

  “He might...” she persisted.

  He stopped and turned to her, then grasped her firmly by the shoulders. “We can’t afford to wait. Once the bridge blows, none of us will be safe. It’s over, Marie. You’ve done your duty and more. Time to go back to your daughter while you still can.”

  “But how?” she asked numbly, overwhelmed.

  “The Juggler circuit has a Lysander on the ground near Versailles that was damaged when it took on some flak during a landing a few months back, and they’ve been secretly working to fix it. If I can get there and make it airborne, I can fly us out tonight.” He pointed in the opposite direction through the trees. “There’s another landing site about five kilometers to the east. If you go due east through the woods, you will come to it. Stay hidden at the landing site until you see me. Meet me at nine thirty and I’ll have us off the ground before the detonation.” He made it all sound so easy.

  Without waiting for a response, he turned and started to go. Wait, she wanted to call. She wanted to protest again that they could not leave the country if there was still a chance that Julian might return. But she knew she would get no further with the argument. And it was best for Will to leave now, she knew, under the cover of the darkness that remained. She watched him disappear into the woods.

  That evening, after dusk had fallen, Marie stood in the doorway to the flat. The day had stretched slowly. Defying Will, she had decided against packing her few belongings. Best, if anyone came looking, to have it appear she had only gone out for a bit. She had tried to bring up London on the wireless to signal that she and Will were returning and to find out why Julian hadn’t come. But there had been no response. There should have been an operator on
the other end receiving, even though it wasn’t her scheduled broadcast. She wondered if the Germans had managed to jam her signal. Or perhaps it was just the weather. It was no matter. By tomorrow they would be back in London. Surely Julian would be waiting for them and explain everything.

  Her eyes lingered now in the corner where the radio was hidden inside the gramophone. She couldn’t take it with her. Will meant for her to destroy it, she knew; she had learned as much in training. She walked to it and opened the case, then looked around for something hard. The iron pot by the fire was her best choice. She picked it up and raised it above the radio.

  Then she stopped, pot hovering midair. She set it down again. She should try to reach London once more before going. Hurriedly she found her box of silks and selected the top worked-out key to encrypt the message. She pulled the crystals out of her pocket and inserted them into the radio, adjusting the transmittal knobs to find the right frequency. “Angel to House,” she typed.

  The reply came quickly. “House here.” Marie started to type news of the detonation, but before she could, a second message came through: “Confirm receipt of the Cardinal.”

  As she decoded the message, a rock seemed to form in her stomach. The message was talking about Julian. London had sent him and wanted to confirm that he landed.

  Only he hadn’t. She hastily coded her reply: “Cardinal not received. Repeat Cardinal not received.”

  There was no further response. The signal was lost or jammed. She could not tell if her message had gone through or not.

  Marie struggled to breathe as she processed the information. London thought Julian had landed. Where was he? Had something happened to him, midflight or on the ground? It was impossible to know, but one thing was certain: if there was a possibility that Julian had landed, there was no way she could leave France.

  Marie wanted to wait to see if there was a response from London, but she did not dare make Will sit in the plane on the ground any longer than necessary and risk capture. She looked at the radio once more. It was her only source of information about Julian now, and she couldn’t bear to destroy it. No one could use it without the crystals anyway.

  Grabbing the crystals and silks once more, she turned and raced from the flat to meet Will.

  Outside Marie forced herself to walk normally, adjusting her sweater as she started down the street. “Mademoiselle!” a male voice called in a loud whisper. She froze, certain it was the police or one of the Germans. It was just the bookseller, though, beckoning to her from across the street.

  Marie hesitated. She didn’t have time to stop. She waved, hoping that would suffice. But he continued to gesture to her. Fearing someone else might see, Marie walked hurriedly to the shop.

  “Bonsoir,” she said politely, stepping inside the empty shop. She had gone into the bookstore once or twice since her arrival, looking for something to read to pass the endless hours alone. They had never exchanged a word about that first night, when she had asked him for help with the mission. What could he possibly want with her now?

  He slipped her a Rudyard Kipling novel. But before she could express her confusion, he opened it to reveal an empty compartment instead. He was offering to help after all.

  Only it was too late. She thought of telling him, then thought better of it. “That will be of great use,” she said. The old man’s face brightened and he stood a bit straighter, seemingly proud to help. “Thank you, monsieur.” She clasped his hand, and then walked hurriedly from the shop.

  She started out of town, crossing the bridge over the canal as she had the first night Julian had brought her here. An hour later she reached the landing site. A plane idled at the center of the field and for a moment she hoped it was Julian, returning. But Will stood in the doorway, hand over his eyes as he scanned the horizon for her. His face broke when he saw her, first to relief, then impatience. “Get in, quickly. The detonator is set to go off soon. We have to leave now.”

  He stepped aside to let her onto the plane, but she stood still, struggling to catch her breath from the sprint. “Will, wait. I received a transmission from London, saying that they delivered Julian.”

  “But that’s impossible.” His face registered a mix of surprise and dismay. “We were at the landing site at the right time.”

  “Unless he was dropped somewhere else.”

  “I set the location myself. How could that happen?”

  “I don’t know. Someone must have changed the location somehow. But it means Julian’s in-country. He could be anywhere, hurt or arrested or...” She could not finish the thought. “I can’t leave until we know what happened to him.”

  “You mean...” He stopped short. “You aren’t planning to come with me?”

  “I’ll stay here and keep looking for him. You go to London and tell them he’s missing. I tried to signal it, but I can’t tell if it went through, or maybe they didn’t believe me.”

  “Marie, it won’t be safe here after the bridge is destroyed. No one cares about my cousin more than me, but this is crazy. Staying here is a death sentence.”

  Marie shook her head. “I’ll take the next transport.”

  “There might not be another transport.”

  “You’ll find a way to come back. You always do. And while you are gone, I can keep looking for Julian. I need to be here when he returns,” she insisted. “Without a translator and a radio operator, he’ll have nothing.”

  “He’s the circuit leader, for Christ’s sake!” Will exploded. “He managed for a long time before you were on the ground. He’ll manage now.”

  “I can’t leave until I find him—or at least know what happened.”

  “Julian would want you to go,” Will pressed. “He couldn’t go on if something happened to you. Julian has feelings for you,” he added, saying aloud what she’d scarcely dared to acknowledge to herself. “He cares about you in a way he hasn’t about anybody since he lost his wife.” Julian has feelings for you. She heard the words over again in her mind. “And you have your daughter to think of. You made it, Marie. You lived. So many others cannot say that. Why can’t you just take that gift?”

  “Because I can’t.” She couldn’t simply leave knowing that Julian had been dropped back into France. She had to find him. She met Will’s eyes squarely. “And neither can you. Which is why you’ll come back for me in a week.”

  “But where will you go?” He paused, thinking. “The brothel in the Latin Quarter. You’ve heard of it?”

  “Julian mentioned it once. He said that the women there hide our agents.”

  “It’s more than that. The whorehouse serves as a clearinghouse for all sorts of information. It’s one of our most valuable safe houses in all of Occupied France, not to be used except in extreme emergencies.” This, Marie thought, must surely qualify. “The proprietor, Lisette, knows half the men in Paris from her line of work. If anyone can make inquiries and help you find Julian, it’s her.”

  “I’ll go there straightaway,” she promised.

  But Will looked out across the horizon and frowned, still not satisfied. “There won’t be more flights once the invasion starts.” He turned back desperately toward the plane. She could tell he was torn about leaving without her.

  “I know,” she replied. “But it’s another week, two at most.”

  “One week,” he said firmly. “Find him or not, you’re coming with me. Listen to the broadcasts in case I have to land on another field. And whatever you do, do not return to the flat.”

  “I have to go back and see if there is any further word from London over the radio about Julian,” she argued.

  “You can’t. Once the bridge has detonated, it won’t be safe any longer. You can’t help Julian if you are arrested. Do you understand?” She nodded. “One week,” he repeated. “I want you on this plane no matter what. Promise?”

  “I promise.” A shado
w of doubt clouded his eyes. Did he think she would refuse to leave or did he simply not believe she would live out the week?

  But there was no time to question. It was nearly ten o’clock. The bridge would blow any second.

  Marie kissed him quickly once on the cheek and ran for the cover of the woods.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eleanor

  London, 1944

  Eleanor stiffened, then sat up in bed, gasping for air. She felt for the nightstand lamp in the darkness and flicked it on, heedless of whether or not the blackout curtains were closed. She had the nightmare again where she was running from something. It was as if she was being chased, the space in front of her blackness.

  Served her right, Eleanor thought, rubbing at her eyes. She swung her feet around to the floor, then stretched to ease the stiffness in her hips and shoulders. A few hours earlier, she had heeded the Director’s order to go home and get some rest after an unbroken three-day stretch at Norgeby House. That was her first mistake. The nightmares never came when she napped at work because her head was too full of details and organizing the things that had to be done. Only here did she dream of crashes and arrests and a place where all the girls were somewhere dark and nameless, crying for her help, but she could not reach them.

  Her internal clock told her it was after four. She stood and walked to the toilet, then started the hot water tap for the bath. It had been five days since she had raised her doubts to the Director, five days since he had turned her away. There had been no further messages from Marie.

  And still the Director wouldn’t listen. Though it seemed as if he did not care about the agents at all, Eleanor knew that wasn’t true. Rather, they were simply expendable, collateral damage of a train that was barreling along the tracks, too fast and strong to stop. Her mind reeled back to her conversation on the roof with Vesper, his worry and frustration. If the men in power would not listen to the concerns of their most senior agent, who witnessed it all firsthand in the field, what hope did she have of convincing them?