Bouncing Betty

by Liliana Hart

  “What happened last night?” I asked.

  His expression darkened. “I don’t want to ruin the moment by discussing it, and it’s nothing for you to worry about. What I’m asking is if you’re willing to come to me tomorrow night. We’ll have the house to ourselves, and I’ll plan a romantic dinner. In essence, we’ll have our honeymoon before the wedding.”

  “Yes,” I burst out, my excitement barely contained. From what I gathered, he seemed to enjoy the fact that I was innocent and naïve. I could sense the evil in him, the innate need to destroy, whether it was the people of Marseille or my innocence. Maybe there were some men who wanted to cherish and protect their women, but I had yet to meet one, so I wasn’t surprised.

  “I want to be with you too,” I told him. “Are you sure no one would know? I’d hate for my friends to discover my indiscretions. My reputation is important to me.”

  “I’d never do anything to harm your reputation,” he said. “I’ve sent Helene and the other women to different areas. Their work called for something else. And the two guards I’ll have will stay on the first floor, but I can assure you they will be completely discreet or they’ll answer to me. I wouldn’t want to leave either of us unprotected for the night. These are unsafe times.”

  I swallowed nervously. “Okay,” I said. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hesitant. I’ve never known a man like you. You’re so sophisticated and worldly. So romantic. You’ve swept me off my feet, and things are moving so fast. But these feelings I have for you. I can’t deny them.” I felt the heat in my cheeks and I lowered my gaze.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’ve never had this yearning before. This heat in my body. It’s all so new.”

  Bingo, I thought when I saw the look of triumph in his eyes.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he promised. “And after tomorrow I’ll be at your mercy forever.”

  “I’m counting on it,” I said.

  Chapter 5

  I didn’t sleep that night.

  Partly because of Graham. He continued to come to me during the night, and it felt like he’d always been in my life and in my bed. I’d heard sayings about relationships that burned hot and fast and that they eventually fizzled, but I’d never known anything else. It was the hot and fast that made life interesting. But with Graham, there was part of me that could imagine feeling his weight on the other side of the bed night after night. But I was hesitant to let myself get too hopeful.

  I knew my relationship with James Walker had been wrong, but he’d made me feel…special. He gave me attention and doted on me and showered me with gifts. He hung on to my every word like it was the best thing he’d ever heard. And our flame had burned so hot and fast I hadn’t stopped to think what we might be lighting on fire along the way.

  I’d had interest from men from the time I’d grown breasts, and I’d learned to flirt and pretend I was interested and impressed by what I saw in the opposite sex. My mother had been an excellent teacher in that regard. I’d perfected my techniques until I’d found a man who caught my fancy—a man who knew a thing or two—not a boy who’d be fumbling around like a fool. I’d enjoyed feeling special—even as short-lived as it had been—because I’d realized up to that point that I’d never felt special. And worse, I’d never believed I was special.

  Growing up in Whiskey Bayou had been hard. Everything was lacking—from supplies to education—and I guessed I’d been lucky that I had a natural aptitude for numbers, otherwise I wouldn’t have spent a lick of time in a schoolroom or with tutors like most of the other girls my age. That had been the only thing I could think of that my father had done right. And even that, he’d done for his own benefit. I made him money, so I was worth something to him.

  When James Walker had come along, he’d made the other men I’d let catch my eye seem like amateurs. But he’d ultimately been my destruction, and he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye when I’d been so hastily put on the first ship to France.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to feel anything for a man after James. He’d broken my heart, and I’d vowed to never give that much of myself to another man again. But where James had been smooth talk and cool sophistication, Henry Graham was rough and tumble and unpolished. His brain worked at a speed I felt matched my own and he was quick-witted and sharp-tongued. While James had fawned over me and treated me as something delicate, Graham treated me as an equal. It was an entirely different feeling. And my feelings for him were entirely different than they’d been for James.

  We hadn’t known each other but for days, yet I felt as if I’d known him forever. There was a connection that penetrated the soul, and it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about my mission. Did he worry for my safety? Was he jealous that I had to play the seductress to lure the enemy?

  Graham was only part of the reason I hadn’t slept. He’d slipped out sometime during the night like usual, but dreams had plagued me of the bodies I’d seen on the street. I had recognized some of the gray faces whose empty eyes had stared blankly at a cerulean sky.

  I thought endlessly about my upcoming task and what I had to do, and I shut off the part of my brain that hated the fact that my body and my looks continued to have more of a purpose in my life than my brains. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said I felt shame. But that was ridiculous because Holmeses weren’t ashamed of anything. Holmeses fought and scrapped and climbed their way to whatever they wanted, and they had no regrets on how they got there.

  I finally gave up on sleep and decided to get up and get dressed for the day. We were to meet at Number 1 Dorset Square at eight o’clock sharp. Nerves fluttered like butterflies in my stomach as I went about washing up and getting dressed. I’d be primped and pampered and perfumed before I left for my mission at Gestapo headquarters.

  For now, I donned a pair of high-waisted pale gray pants and a blousy navy shirt I wore tucked in. I rolled up the sleeves and then wrapped a kerchief in my hair, tying it in a knot on top of my head. I’d brushed out my curls until they’d crackled and rubbed a small amount of perfume between my hands before smoothing them over my hair. It tamed the frizzies and calmed the curls. I slipped on my oxfords and made my way to the kitchen.

  I knew the staff would be up and preparing to start their day, but I figured the Smitherses and anyone else who might have been in residence would be asleep a while longer. I crept down from the third floor using the old servant stairs that led directly to the kitchen. I figured coffee and toast would settle my stomach, and if that failed I knew where George kept his bottle of whiskey in his office. In my experience, whiskey cured most things.

  I could hear whispers and something heavy banging from the kitchen, but when I walked in, a pregnant silence filled the room. The only thing I cared about was the smell of freshly pressed coffee that permeated air.

  All of the staff in the Smithers’ home had come with them from London, and only those who were the most trusted. Servants made as good of spies as anyone in the Alliance, which was why Lise and her friends were rotting in the street.

  “I don’t mean to intrude,” I said in English. “I’ll help myself to coffee and slip out.”

  “I’ll get it, ma’am,” Mrs. Worth said, laying down her rolling pin and the fresh dough she was working over.

  She set it up on a small tray with cream and sugar, and added dry toasts and crockeries of butter and jam. She added a pastry, and I started to think maybe I could eat after all.

  “Are you eating in the dining room?” she asked.

  I nodded, because it was very obvious taking a seat at the kitchen table wouldn’t have been welcome. I preceded her into the dining room and took my place so I could see out the front windows that looked out along the pier. They were the same boats that had been docked the day before and the day before that.

  You could feel something brewing in the air, as if everything was ripping apart at the seams. The only thing any of
us could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other until we stepped on a land mine.

  I felt his presence before I saw or heard him, and then I felt his hand squeeze the back of my neck as he bent down to kiss the top of my head.

  “I didn’t expect to see you today,” I said. “I can ring for more coffee.”

  “I came in through the kitchen like you,” he said, smiling as he took the seat at the head of the table facing the door and the windows. Graham never put himself in a position to be taken by surprise. “It drives Mrs. Worth crazy to have people in her space.”

  There was a boyish charm as he spoke of Mrs. Worth. “And how long have you been aggravating her?” I asked.

  “Oh, about a decade or so,” he said. “Before George and Esther were married. Mrs. Worth was George’s family’s cook when he was a boy.”

  I was like a sponge for information about him. “How long have you known George?”

  “He was my recruiter at MI6,” he said.

  “George?” I asked. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Marriage changes a man,” Graham said. “The George you see now is not the George I knew at the beginning of my career. And still, I wouldn’t want to go up against him one-on-one. But he withdrew from the more dangerous jobs after he and Esther married, and then he recruited her as well, so a lot of their undercover work is as a married couple and in society.”

  “How did you end up in France?” I asked.

  “I guess I’m a bit of a rogue at heart,” he said, grinning. “I tend to end up where I’m needed. I’ve lived here and there and everywhere. Nothing has stuck permanently. But when George mentioned that MI6 was creating the Special Operations Executive, and he was to head up the Alliance out of Marseille, I knew I could be of use to help end this war. I was asked to be in charge of Alliance headquarters in Lyon, but I don’t like being in charge. Being in charge means you have to sit behind a desk instead of breaking into prisons in the middle of the night.”

  “Or Gestapo headquarters,” I added.

  “Exactly,” he said.

  I hesitated, wanting to ask more, but I took a sip of coffee instead.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “No one has talked about what happens after,” I said. “What happens if we’re all successful in our missions? What happens when the Cordiers are rescued and exported out of the city? What happens when Wagner wakes up in the morning with a terrible hangover and a realization he’s been duped? He’s going to go on a rampage through this city like nothing these people have ever seen.”

  “Hitler will call him ineffective and demote him,” Graham said. “He’ll be scrubbing toilets back in Germany before the week is out.”

  I wanted to believe that, but I wasn’t so sure. Men like Wagner didn’t disappear so easily once they’d had a taste of power.

  “All things considered,” he said. “This is a simple, straightforward job. You’ve played your part beautifully. We’ve been getting briefings and intelligence reports on Meissner and his comings and goings, as well as how Wagner is positioning his officers around the city. He’s moved the women out of headquarters and into one of the other houses they’ve commandeered. Don’t underestimate Helene. She’ll be more of a threat to us after this mission than Wagner will. Those women are a group of finely trained machines. All of the work that’s been accomplished since Wagner took over the city is because of her strategies and investigative work.”

  I didn’t know how to put into words what I was feeling. This was a job. This wasn’t real life. We were all living lies to the point that the truth was becoming more and more difficult to decipher.

  “Ah,” Graham said, taking my hand. “You’re thinking when your mission is complete that you’ll be displaced.”

  “It’s not like I can keep peddling makeup after today,” I said. “At least, not unless I want a bullet in my head.”

  “That would be a travesty,” he said. “Your brain is one of my favorite things about you.”

  Heat rushed to my face.

  “You’re not comfortable with compliments,” he said. “I wonder why.”

  “Of course I am,” I said, hating that he saw through me that easily.

  “You’re comfortable with compliments about your looks. I bet you get told you’re beautiful a hundred times a day. And you are. You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But I’ve watched you, and I’ve heard George sing your praises for weeks. You not only have a photographic memory, but you’ve been able to dictate conversations you’ve had and overheard in their entirety. You’ve picked up languages and learned skills it sometimes takes new trainees months to a year to learn.”

  It was a challenge to keep from squirming in my seat at his assessment of me, and I wondered if he was doing it on purpose just to see if he could make me squirm.

  “What are you getting at?” I asked.

  “I’m saying that after this mission is done, you’re going to have your pick of what’s next. And if America ever decides to join this fight, I predict there’s going to be an interesting negotiation over your services between MI6 and the OSS.”

  “And what about you?” I asked, pretending I was braver than I was. I didn’t really want to hear his answer, but I had to ask. “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll be like you,” he said. “Wherever they send me. Which according to the letter I received yesterday is Belgium. I’ll take the command position at the new Alliance headquarters there. And you’ll start a new cover under my command. If you’d like to accept the job.”

  I arched a brow and my mouth tilted up at the corner. “And what about during the night?”

  He picked up my hand and brought it to his mouth, his eyes telling me everything I wanted to know. “During the night, you get to be in charge.”

  “Then it looks like we’re going to Belgium.”

  Chapter 6

  An hour later I was at Number 1 Dorset Square, standing over the blueprints of the Schwartz house.

  George and Esther were with me, along with Graham, Auguste, and John Armstrong. The team was small, but they insisted it was all the manpower that was needed to take their headquarters and free the Cordiers.

  “Wagner made it a point to tell me that only two of his officers would be on site,” I said. “And that they’d be contained to the first floor so we’d have complete privacy.”

  “The first floor has the large entry area you’ve seen before,” George said. “There’s a front parlor…”

  “That’s completely empty,” Graham said. “I had a good view in there after Scarlet ran me down.”

  “I still don’t know how you ended up in front of my car,” I said.

  “That’s easy,” Graham said. “Because you’re a terrible driver.”

  “Moving on,” George said. “The kitchen is also on the first floor and takes up almost the entire back half. There’s a front stairway…”

  “Which is the one I’ve taken each week to meet Helene and the other women on the fourth floor.”

  “But there’s also a secondary staircase in the back leading up from the kitchen,” George finished. “I’ve got a rough sketch diagram from what information Lise was able to give me.”

  “You’d think she’d have been able to pinpoint the Cordiers’ location inside the house,” I said. “Servants observe and know everything.”

  “That’s the thing,” Graham said. “There was a basic skeleton crew of domestic staff. Lise, another girl, and a cook. None of them were live-ins. And they were all given strict instructions on what they could and could not do, and where they could and could not go. The second floor was completely off limits, but so were the servant stairs. We have good intel on all of the other areas.”

  “Dr. Meissner allowed people into his personal space?” I asked, surprised, remembering Meissner was on the third floor.

  “Yes,” Graham said. “Meissner is known for having some interesting quirks along with just being insane.”

/>   “As if that isn’t enough,” I said.

  “He’s very particular about his living and work spaces,” George said. “He has an aversion to anything dirty. He’s been known to wash his hands to the point his skin gets raw.”

  “Considering some of the horrible things he does with those hands, I’m not surprised,” I said.

  “He’s just as particular about his rooms,” Graham said. “No dust, no papers out of order, no empty coffee cups, and no smudges. He insists that bleach be used to wipe down all the surfaces in the areas he occupies.

  “I feel like I need to be worried about what I’m going to be walking into tonight if Wagner hasn’t had his rooms cleaned in weeks. It’s hard to be seductive with dirty underpants on the floor and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.”

  Graham coughed to cover a laugh, though his eyes were sparkling. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to make it work. Besides, I was up there a few days ago and everything looked clean and in its place. And there were no underpants on the floor.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “I’m assuming you got a good look at what I’m about to walk into?”

  “He’s got the whole second floor to himself,” Graham said. “It must have been the floor where the children and their nanny stayed, because it’s a large open space and the wallpaper is softer in color. But everything has been stripped out and all of Wagner’s personal belongings are there.

  “The floor is split into two areas once you come off the landing from the stairs,” he continued. “His sleeping quarters are on the left and his office on the right. The office area is set up for meetings with his command staff, and he has maps laid out with troops and positions.

  “They didn’t let me get close enough to the map to get a good look at it. They put me on a little sofa right off the stairs and I waited until Meissner came to see me. There’s nothing much to be done for scrapes and bruises, and they didn’t get any important information by questioning me. Part of my cover is my connections to very wealthy Nazi sympathizers. Wagner would have had to hold me for too long while he checked my cover story, so he took me at my word and released me.”