by Kate Breslin
He nodded. “I believe your instincts are good, and it would explain how she was able to convince me that she was Jewel the day I brought food to her room.”
Colin leaned to remove the plate from Jo’s lap, set it aside, and reached for her hand. Again she detected the sorrow in his eyes, and a chill of foreboding ran along her spine. “Something is wrong. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Johanna, your sister was . . . taken quite ill in Havrincourt. Kepler got her out, but there were complications.” He paused. “She died of pneumonia a few days later, in Paris.”
Jo stared at him a long moment while she searched his eyes for the truth. Jewel . . . is dead? “I cannot believe it.” Her voice was a whisper. “There must be some mistake.”
Yet the grief in his expression didn’t lie, and her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She was vaguely aware as Colin released her hand and wiped at the wetness along her cheek. He rose from the chair and sat beside her, taking her into his arms.
She leaned into him, clinging to his comforting presence as he held her. Her silent tears continued, though Jo didn’t understand why she wept. She and Jewel had never even met one another. But in those written pages . . .
Jo had come to love her sister, a woman who shared with her not only the bond of blood, but an understanding of what it meant to survive alone in the midst of a war.
Colin’s arms remained around her as he gently explained about Kepler’s mission into Havrincourt to get Jewel, and the woman who subsequently became the decoy for her sister.
When Jo finally drew back to see his face, anger and confusion overshadowed her grief. “So Mr. Petit knows that Kepler works for the Americans. And this woman . . . she was hired to pose as Jewel?”
He nodded. “It’s critical for the mission.”
“What mission?” She stared at him, bewildered. “What was my sister involved in?”
“She was innocent.” His tone was fierce. “Just like you are innocent. Both of you are pawns in a game being played by the Allies.”
“Game? Colin, explain to me why Kepler brought this . . . imposter to Spain. And why is she pretending to be my sister?”
“Because your father is here. She was to meet him.”
His words sent shock waves through her. “Papa is here . . . in Barcelona?”
“Here, or in the vicinity.” He reached up to stroke her cheek. “Kepler never lied to your sister. He had every intention of reuniting father and daughter.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “There’s more, Johanna.”
Again Jo felt a chill ripple down her back. “’Tis my papa, isn’t it?” She gripped his arm. “Has something happened to him?”
“No, he’s fine, as far as I know. But you need to be aware of his . . . occupation.” His gaze shone with compassion. “Your father has been working with the Germans, Johanna. He’s a spy.”
The coldness of moments ago transformed into a queasiness roiling her insides. Jo pulled away from him to sit forward on the divan as the room around her suddenly shifted.
This couldn’t be happening. Her father, the gentle man of her memory, with his deep blue eyes and strong, capable hands, the lingering scent of tobacco . . . a Boche spy? “I want nothing more in the world than to be your Papa.”
Jo was only half listening as Colin continued to enlighten her on the conditions her father had set in exchange for some prize the Allies needed. She turned to look at him. “A German spy. You are certain?”
He nodded. “I know it must be a shock.”
A shock? Bitterness rose like bile in her throat, and her nausea worsened until Jo thought she might be ill. She remembered her dream that afternoon, about Moira and her subversion toward Britain. Now it seemed Jo’s father was a traitor to the Allied nations.
And what of herself? She’d taken up arms against a British soldier with a rifle, trying to protect her mother.
“. . . the Americans tried to outsmart your father, trying to get this ‘prize’ from him before he learned that the actress wasn’t your sister.”
She realized Colin was still speaking to her, and she focused on his words. “What prize?”
“I have no idea, but Marcus claims it’s crucial in helping to speed up an end to the war. Apparently Zero has it, but so far he’s managed to evade detection. Until you arrived in Toulouse, G-2 was losing hope.”
“Zero? Is that what they call him?” Her papa was a stranger to her, living some secret life she didn’t think Jewel or even Moira had known about.
The rest of Colin’s sentence finally penetrated. “What has this to do with me?”
“Once Petit learned you were Jacob Reyer’s daughter, G-2 decided to offer you up in your sister’s place. They hope Zero will still agree to the bargain and hand over this valuable prize.”
“And that’s why Mr. Petit brought me to Spain.”
He nodded. “They determined my presence was unnecessary to their plans but believed you would not willingly go without me.”
“And they were right.” She reached to clasp his hand. “I am relieved you are here.”
He pulled her back to sit beside him. “And I am as well.”
“The actress . . . she told me the meeting would happen soon.”
“Yes, it is set for tomorrow, near a place called Montserrat.” His eyes searched hers. “I know I’ve burdened you with a lot of truth, but the decision is yours as to whether you want to go through with this meeting or not. Whatever you choose, I will defend it with Captain Weatherford.” His features took on an almost wild look. “Even if it means a court-martial.”
“No! You mustn’t do that.” She laid a hand against the strong line of his jaw as a whirlwind of emotion raged through her: grief over a sister she would never get to meet, excitement in knowing she would see her father. Anxiety, wondering how the memory she’d nurtured for so many years could possibly reconcile with an enemy spy, perhaps even an assassin, living among the shadows. Jo didn’t even want to imagine the heinous crimes he must have committed over the course of the war.
Yet regardless of her feelings, it seemed their reunion was destined. Jo didn’t know if she should be afraid or thankful.
Colin read her thoughts. “You need to remember, Johanna, it was your father who approached the Americans. He wants to defect, and he’s willing to hand over something the enemy values just as highly as the Allies, perhaps even more so. I believe he worried about Jewel after her aunt died, and he wanted her to be safe.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Jacob Reyer loved her, and I know he will love you, too. I don’t think a man like that can be such a monster.” He paused. “But I meant what I said. The decision is still yours.”
She rested against him, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “Well, I won’t have you losing your job or standing in front of a firing squad on my account.”
“None of it matters. I made a promise to protect you. Your welfare is all I care about.”
She turned to him, her emotions still jumbled. “You said this ‘prize’ my father has is important to helping end the war?”
“According to Captain Weatherford. And he is a man of honor.”
“All right.”
Rising to her feet, Jo left him seated on the divan as she walked toward the bed, where the diary still lay. “I can only imagine how much Papa must have loved my sister.”
She reached for the book and turned to Colin. “I will give him this tomorrow when we meet.” Once again tears misted her eyes, and Jo wiped at them before hugging the diary. “A keepsake to remind him of the daughter he has lost. And a peace offering, in the hope he will accept the daughter who is found.”
CHAPTER
25
I thought we agreed, no more foul-ups.”
Marcus sat on a park bench in Barcelona’s busiest public square, looking at the man seated beside him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain.”
Petit lounged against the bench and
lifted a lazy brow.
Poker face. Marcus’s jaw worked as he removed his hat. The weather was warm, the clouds overhead acting like a blanket to keep in the heat. He could hear the rush of water behind him as a waterworks shot streams of frothy liquid toward the sky, only to have them fall back into the enormous pool with a resounding splash. “I am referring to Johanna Reyer. Why would she send a message through to Paris, addressed to Lieutenant Mabry in Portbou, telling him she was in trouble?”
Petit leaned forward on the bench, muttering a curse. “How did she manage it? I bribed the front desk manager to prevent any outgoing calls from her room.”
“Apparently she brought a carrier pigeon with her.”
“You’re joking.”
“Hardly.” Marcus was almost pleased he’d managed to shake the man’s composure. “Care to tell me what happened?”
Petit looked out at the square. Marcus followed his gaze. An enormous flock of pigeons hovered at the feet of an old woman who held a small paper bag of either dried corn kernels or nuts. As she threw out a handful of the feed, the birds rose in a fluttering wall of gray wings, circling before they glided down again beside the food, each pecking madly to get their fill. The old woman tossed another handful into the air, and the dance repeated itself.
“I suppose Johanna could have hidden that bird in the cloth bag she carried on the train.” Petit sounded impressed. He removed his hat and turned to Marcus.
“She had a visit yesterday from our actress, Miss Tremblay. I thought if Odette went and introduced herself as Jewel and invited Johanna along to see their father, the woman would be all the more eager to participate.”
He bent his head. “Obviously the plan backfired. Odette must have missed something in the diary, because Johanna’s now convinced she isn’t her sister.”
Marcus felt a sudden soft breeze and heard the rustle of the palms that lined one end of the square. It failed to cool his anger. “So now we must take Johanna to the meeting by force, because she no longer has an ally in her sister. Is that correct?”
Petit tilted his head toward Marcus. “That about sums it up.”
“And this . . . Miss Tremblay? You said she read the diary.”
Petit nodded. “In Toulouse, I managed to keep the lieutenant and Johanna Reyer out late one night while Odette slipped into her room and borrowed the book. She put it back before they returned to the hotel.”
“Sounds as if she should have kept it longer.”
“True.” Petit’s smile was grim. “But our actress learned enough to fool the lieutenant the very next day when he insisted on seeing ‘Jewel.’ After a brief encounter, he left fairly confident it was her, though he never got the chance to see Odette’s face. I made sure Kepler returned to the room before that happened. Odette told me later that she and Kepler made a pretty believable case out of it.”
“I had to bring him along, you know.”
Petit emitted another curse. “All my efforts for nothing. I don’t suppose you could have ordered him to go home?”
Marcus smiled without humor. “He’s a man in love, and after the dire note he received from Johanna, he was willing to risk prison in order to come here and see for himself she’s all right.” He flashed a sideways glance. “She is all right, isn’t she, Petit?”
The American eyed him sullenly. “I settled things with her this morning. She still trusts me but not Odette. I ordered Johanna to stay in her room and said I’d speak with my superiors about the phony woman in black.”
Marcus again looked out at the square, observing the beautiful architecture surrounding the Plaça de Catalunya—neoclassic, neo-Gothic, Baroque, Art Nouveau. The foot traffic was growing busier, a normal occurrence this time of the afternoon. He noted a group of aproned women collecting jugs of water at the public fountain. “Considering this new snarl, I suppose it’s fortunate I brought the lieutenant along. I’ve briefed him to a certain extent, and he can speak with Johanna about the meeting tomorrow. Where is she?”
“We’re at the Coloma Hotel on La Rambla. She’s in room 320.”
“I’ll follow up with the lieutenant.” He eyed Petit sharply. “Is everything else ready for tomorrow?”
“We’re all set. I went out to the caves after breakfast this morning and put up the sign. I got back an hour ago.” He turned to face Marcus. “Why these caves, exactly?”
Marcus shrugged. “Zero is a painter by trade. The Sant Sever Caves have attracted artist types for years, including sculptors and a few prominent architects. And right now, we need to accommodate Zero’s wishes as much as possible. He and I will arrive at the caves an hour ahead of the meeting. I want Lieutenant Mabry to accompany Kepler and Johanna; otherwise, I doubt she will go willingly.”
Petit frowned. “I suppose you’re right, but too many cooks spoil the stew.”
“You should have thought of that back in Toulouse.” Marcus turned away, eyeing the old woman feeding the birds.
“Does the lieutenant know about the Black Book?”
“No, but he’s aware Zero has something we all want.” Marcus rose from the bench and resettled the hat onto his head. “So let’s hope our master spy accepts his second daughter in lieu of the first, and wants his amnesty badly enough to hand over that book.”
CHAPTER
26
Madame Mabry? It is me, Madame Outis. May I come in?”
Jo had heard the knock at her door and now stood beside it clad in her nightgown and robe as she deliberated over whether or not to let the actress inside.
She’d been awakened by Petit’s telephone call at seven o’clock that morning, telling her the woman would arrive shortly with a package. After all Colin had told Jo yesterday, she was still resentful toward the woman who had pretended to be her poor sister.
“Madame Mabry? Please let me in. I mean you no harm.”
Jo let out a resigned breath. She supposed the woman had only been doing her job for the Americans. And admittedly none of her actions had been malicious toward either Jo or Colin.
She finally opened the door and saw the same beautiful face she’d seen days ago, haloed in golden-blond hair and wearing an anxious look. Instead of the black mourning clothes, Madame Outis now wore a lovely red skirt and jacket ensemble. She carried a package in her arms, the brown paper crackling as she hugged the parcel.
Jo eyed her with reserve as she stepped back and allowed the woman entrance.
“I would first like to introduce myself and to apologize for misleading you the other day. I did not know your sister, but I am very sorry she is gone.”
The soft blue eyes glistened with the same emotion Jo had seen the last time they’d met. The woman certainly was a good actress. Except for the few mistakes she’d made with details, she had been convincing as Jo’s sister.
Jo closed the door.
The woman shifted the package to extend a hand encased in gold satin. “I am Mademoiselle Odette Tremblay with the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris. I sometimes do work with the Allies in France. Monsieur Petit tells me you know about our circumstances, so I hope you are not too angry with me?”
While Jo disliked the fact Petit and Kepler were trying to trick her father, she understood why they were doing it. And in truth, she had no idea what kind of man Jacob Reyer had become. Would he be glad to see her . . . or enraged because she wasn’t Jewel?
She twisted the ring on her finger. Either way, it wasn’t this woman’s fault. Jo took the proffered hand. “I’m not angry with you, Miss Tremblay.”
“Please, you must call me Odette.”
She smiled, and again Jo was reminded of how much she resembled Colin’s description of her sister. “What do you have in the package?”
“These are the mourning clothes I was wearing when we met. You are requested to put them on for the meeting today.” Odette offered her the paper bundle. “If you will permit, I would like to stay and act as your lady’s maid.”
Jo didn’t need help with getting dress
ed, and since she and Odette were about the same size, there was no reason the clothing might not fit.
She was about to object when Odette reached for her hand. “Please, I insist, Johanna. You are a lovely woman and so kind. I feel very badly that I had to deceive you in such a personal way.” She dipped her head and smiled. “This will be my atonement, oui?”
Jo found she couldn’t refuse the offer; it seemed important to Miss Tremblay. “All right, I would appreciate your help, Odette. Thank you.”
Soon they had the package opened on the bed, and Odette began assisting her in slipping the heavy one-piece silk dress over her head.
After thrusting both arms into the narrow black sleeves, Jo settled the double skirts over her hips. “There is certainly a lot of fabric here.” She reached to adjust the gauzy, V-shaped neckline of the bodice. “Did you have to wear this same heavy dress all the time?”
“I have a second black gown, similar in style.” Odette spoke from behind her. “It was important that I remain hidden from the world as much as possible.”
The world being my father. Jo quashed her resentment and held steady as Odette fastened the hooks of the wide black cummerbund at her waist.
Next the actress prepared Jo’s hair, then came around front and fitted her with a round black crepe hat and a dark veil reaching just below her chin. The silk chiffon was so thick as to be barely transparent.
Jo raised the veil to stare at her. “How did you ever manage with this? I can hardly see.”
Odette gave her a rueful smile. “Believe me, I have had to spend much of my time looking down at the ground in front of me. The veil was another reason I kept to my room so often in Toulouse. Not only to keep from bumping into the first solid object I encountered, but there was the constant temptation to rip it off so that I could see everything around me.” A sigh escaped her. “I spent much of the time staring out my window instead.”