by Ellen Butler
“Who did you say you were?” Devlin asked.
“Lily Saint James, code name Fleur-de-lis. I’ve spent the past few months undercover as a nanny for a colonel overseeing the work camp at the Mauser rifle factory in Oberndorf, Germany.”
“Corporal, you’re dismissed,” the captain said sharply over my shoulder. The door closed with a snap. “Did you say Fleur-de-lis?”
“Yes.”
He scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “I was under the impression you were a man.”
“I am surprised you have heard of me at all. You were likely led to believe I was a man for my own security.” The room started to sway as my limited strength threatened to give out. “Captain, do you mind if we sit?”
“Yes, of course, I apologize.” He led me to the high-back wing chair, and I gratefully sank into its plush red-velvet seat, reaching my feet toward the warmth of the fire. “May I take your coat?”
“No.” I waved him off, but the cuff fell back to reveal the bruises and rope burns at my wrist. His gaze missed nothing and I self-consciously tugged the sleeve back in place. “Thank you, I prefer to keep it on.”
“You look half-starved. Let me get you a drink. Sherry or”—he sniffed the clear contents of a decanter sitting on the sideboard behind the sofa—“apple ... gin, I think?”
“Probably schnapps. I’ll take the sherry.”
“Karp, go scrounge up a hot meal for Miss Saint James.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sweet alcohol soothed my abused throat, but my hand shook as I sipped. I silently blessed the captain for not filling the glass to the brim, and, resting my head against the soft fabric, I closed my eyes.
“Tell me, if you were in Oberndorf, how did you end up here?”
“A few days ago I watched my contact, a German sympathizer, throw himself off his own balcony to avoid being captured by the SS,” I explained in a flat voice. “I believed my cover to be in jeopardy if not already compromised. It was too risky to return to the colonel’s home to pick up my exit papers, so I headed into the Schwarzwald.”
“Jesus. How long have you been on the run?”
“Seven or eight days?” I opened my eyes to find the captain literally sitting on the edge of his seat. “My mind is a little fuzzy. I think I was captured two days ago. First Sergeant Glassman and Thompson stormed the building where I was being held and ... well, you understand. Basically, I owe my life to those men. Which reminds me, the Germans seem to think there’s another female spy around here. They called her Black Widow. Have you heard of the code name? Do you know anything about her?”
“No, you’ll have to ask your own people. Information is ... filtered to us. The only reason I recognized your code name is because I read it on a report. Frankly, you’re the first OSS agent who’s been this forthcoming. The rest of your lot seem to skulk in smoky corners and never answer any direct questions.”
“I would be doing the same thing now if I hadn’t made such a bloody mess of it.” I rubbed my temples. “I am not looking forward to seeing my superiors. And when I do, I have a feeling they’re going to spend the next month debriefing me before sticking me uselessly behind a typewriter with the rest of the secretarial pool.”
“You seem competent. I’ll take you as my secretary.”
I allowed a wan smile to cross my face. “I’m not quite ready to be put out to pasture. Besides, I figured coming directly to you, we would cut through a lot of the ... filtering. You are an intelligence officer?”
“Put your mind at ease, I’m intelligence. Are you ... army?”
I finished the sherry and held out my glass for more. The fire had finally warmed my feet. The warmth, along with the sherry, was spreading through my body and seeping into my chilled bones. “No, civilian. I’m not even sure who to report to around here. My German contacts are dead, and the last SOE agent I had contact with was in Stuttgart. As far as the home office knows, I’m dead too. You could say I’m at loose ends.” He refilled my glass and I sipped more of the sweet wine. Tension ebbed from my shoulders, and relaxing against the plump cushions had calmed the nagging ache in my head ... or maybe it was the sherry.
Devlin rested his chin on his fist and stared at me with an incalculable look.
“All right, so I do have an idea who I should report to.”
“You mentioned film.”
“Yes, right-o.” Reluctantly, I placed the half-drunk sherry on the coffee table. “I used a Minox mini camera. Do you have a viewer or developer for the film?” I slid the boot heel aside and out fell David O’Leary’s dog tag. The raised letters scraped roughly against my fingers. I’d forgotten I put it in my boot.
“What have you got there?”
“Three or four days ago, I witnessed an air combat, not far from Bühl, and came across a downed pilot. I tried to help him, but...” Tears pricked my eyes and I licked my lips. “C-c—” I cleared my throat. “Can you make sure the family is notified?”
“Of course.” He pocketed the dog tag.
“Here’s the film. I pray the canister is watertight because we took a couple of unwanted baths together. If it’s ruined, I can show you what I remember, but there was a fair amount of information I simply didn’t have time to read.”
“Can you tell me what you remember now?”
Sighing, I retrieved the sherry and swallowed it down. “No time like the present. Pull out the maps.”
Karp returned carrying a tray. “Some of the fellows were making K-ration stew in the kitchen.” He sniffed the bowl. “I think the mystery meat is potted ham. I also got you a biscuit and coffee, ma’am. I put some sugar in your coffee. The boys make it pretty strong.”
“Thank you, Private. Leave it on the sideboard if you would, please. I’ll get to it in a moment.”
“Karp, go find Peterson and send him to me. Let him know I need to develop Minox mini film. Get me Lieutenant Grimes as well ... and send in the major if you can find him. After that, take a break and get yourself something to eat.”
Sergeant Peterson arrived bearing a negative viewer, although it was for much larger film, and he set to work trying to rig something for the tiny Minox film. Lieutenant Grimes joined us as Devlin and I pored over the maps. I was able to remember and identify a few of the munitions factories and airstrips. However, the details were unclear in my mind—whether due to the fact that it’d been at least a dozen days since I’d seen the materials hidden in the colonel’s safe or the utter exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me, I did not know. The scent of the coffee now filled the room and my stomach grumbled at its siren call. I was about to ask one of the men to hand it to me when a voice interrupted us.
“Jake, I heard you were looking for me.”
The oxygen in my lungs whooshed out and my heart skipped a beat. There he stood at the opposite end of the table. He’d lost weight since I’d seen him last—who hadn’t? The lines around his eyes had deepened, and telltale circles spoke to his lack of rest. The faded memory I’d held in my mind’s eye was merely a black-and-white picture show; it didn’t do him justice. Having him in front of me was like stepping over the rainbow into the Technicolor glory of Oz.
His gaze dusted past me to Devlin on my right, and I realized just how different I must look compared to our last meeting. “What’s the problem?” he asked.
“It looks like we’ve come into some valuable intel. I’d like you to meet—”
“Charlie?” The word came out as a hoarse whisper and those piercing blue eyes rested on me. The room went silent, and I self-consciously tugged a coil of hair forward to cover the bruising.
Recognition flared. “Lily?”
“You’ve met?” Devlin asked.
“Good god, what happened? What are you doing so close to the front lines? What idiotic newspaper sent you and your camera to this godforsaken place, and why are you wearing that ratty German overcoat?”
I licked my dry lips. “Charlie—”
“Newspaper? What new
spaper?” Devlin’s questioning gaze raked me up and down, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Charlie.
“She’s a photojournalist,” Charlie explained.
“I’m not ... exactly a newspaper photographer,” I whispered.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I—” The explanation stuck in my throat and I waited, hoping someone else would explain the situation, but nobody came to my rescue, and expectancy hung heavy in the air. “I’m an agent ... for the Office of Strategic Services.” It came out in a shaky undertone.
His mouth turned down as I spoke. “So, when we met...”
“Photojournalism was my cover in Paris.”
“Paris?” Devlin muttered under his breath.
“She’s a spy,” Grimes clarified.
Charlie crossed his arms. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I am beginning to understand.”
Grimes blanched under the derisive gaze.
“And what is an OSS agent doing here at my headquarters?” His icy glare returned to me; its chill wrapped around my heart like a vise.
This wasn’t how I’d pictured our meeting—looking like a ragged street urchin, surrounded by his men and unable to explain what Paris meant to me. Powerless to assure him that our time together was not a lie or a simple wartime affair, and how much I’d wanted to tell him exactly who I was and what I was doing for the war effort. He seemed to tower above me, so I shoved my chair back and, using the table as leverage, pushed myself to a standing position.
“She is sharing intelligence with us.” Devlin shifted closer and the fabric of his sleeve brushed against mine.
“You should see this, Major. She’s identified munitions factories and new airfields.” Grimes pointed to the marks we’d circled on the map.
“If Peterson can get the viewer work—”
“It’s working,” Peterson interrupted Devlin. “You’d better take a look at this, Captain. The first two shots are damaged, maybe we’ll get more once they are developed, but this third shot is a partial, and the fourth ... holy mackerel! There’s a ding-danged U-Boat sitting off the coast of Rhode Island.”
Grimes and Devlin maneuvered around to the coffee table, where Peterson had set up shop. Charlie and I didn’t move. His arctic mien held me immobilized, and my mind begged to know what he was thinking, but there was no way I’d ask in front of his men.
“Charlie, you’re going to want to see this. So is Regimental and probably the navy,” Devlin said.
Finally, his intractable gaze released me from my stupor, and as I turned, the room shimmered, a ringing filled my ears, and darkness tunneled around me. My arms felt floaty and detached while my legs became leaden weights.
From far away, I barely heard my own voice above the din, “I’m sorry, gentlemen, I believe I need to—” My legs collapsed. Strong arms wrapped around me before I hit the hard floor.
It was strange. I could feel the soft comfort of the sofa beneath me and hear voices speaking. Someone pulled the coat aside. There were gasps, and questions tumbled over each other.
“Holy Mother and Mary, who did this to her?”
“Is that a cigarette burn?”
“Take a gander at her neck.”
“Who did you say found her?”
“She’s so thin. Grimes, get a medic.” That was the only voice my mind recognized. I think I tried to push the hands away. “Shh, it’s all right, Lily. Don’t move. It’s all right.”
No, no, don’t look. It’s ugly, my mind cried, but I couldn’t force the words beyond my lips; eventually the ringing turned into a roar and the darkness pulled me into the void.
Chapter Eighteen
Lost Compass
“Come on, doll, wake up. Doc says you need to eat some soup.”
My eyes opened to find a most unlikely nurse at my side. Tank sat next to the bed, his big hand wrapped around a bowl and the inimitable cigar clamped between his teeth.
“Where am I?” I croaked. My arms were trapped under a poufy eiderdown cover that weighed on me like an anvil.
“You’re still at the hotel. The captain and major decided it would not be a good idea to put you at the hospital with the rest of the wounded.”
“I’ve got to get up. I have information for your intelligence officer. Where are my boots? There’s important information—” My arm finally obeyed and popped free from beneath the blanket. A white linen sleeve with a lace and embroidered cuff covered the burn marks but was a little too short to cover the fresh bandages at my wrists. I struggled to sit up.
“Whoa ... slow down. Captain has the information. It’s already worked its way up to Regimental. Your boots are under the bed, empty of their cargo.” He winked.
I sighed as memories sifted back into consciousness, including the unfortunate interaction with Charlie right before I uselessly passed out.
“What am I wearing?” I peeked under the covers to find myself devoid of clothing—bra, slip, socks—all removed to be replaced by the linen nightgown. I’d been stripped and bandaged. Who removed my underthings?
“One of the fellows discovered it in the wardrobe in his room. He was going to send it home, but when the major found out about it, he commandeered it. Probably left behind by a guest who had to leave in a hurry.”
“Remind me to thank the soldier who donated it.” Weak winter sun filtered through the sheer curtains at the window, illuminating the ornate wardrobe, writing table, and desk chair. A scratched and worn army-issue footlocker stood between the desk and door. “Who do I have to thank for giving up this room?”
“The major. He’s bunking with Captain Devlin. Here, let me help you sit up. Doc says you’re dehydrated and need fluids.”
I couldn’t argue with that assessment; my mouth was as dry as a cat’s tongue. He drew me forward and plumped the pillows, arranging me into a sitting position, before handing me the bowl. I couldn’t believe how weak I felt. My hand shook so much most of the warm broth didn’t make it into my mouth; instead it dribbled down my chin and onto the covers. Tank didn’t say a word. He retrieved the soup and began feeding me.
“How did you end up drawing the short straw?”
The cigar stump shifted sides. “What do you mean?”
“Babysitting duty.”
“Actually, I got here about fifteen minutes ago. From what I have heard, there’s been quite a parade of folks dropping by check up on you. The major, Whiskey, Peterson. The captain’s been in and out a few times. Seems he’s got something to show you when you wake. First Sergeant Glassman stopped by too. He chewed out Jones for not leaving you at the hospital, but the way Jones tells it, you refused to get out of the Jeep. Seems you’ve got a bit of a stubborn streak. Sarge said he should have carried you in, and because he didn’t follow orders, Jones has been put on KP for the week.”
I gave a guilty cringe. “How long have I been out of it?”
“’Bout eighteen hours. Doc says you probably have a concussion from the bump on the back of your head. How did you get that?”
I swallowed the broth. “Rifle butt.”
Tank frowned and said no more until I’d finished the entire bowl, then he handed me a biscuit and a mug filled with a fizzy orange drink. “Doc said this would be good for you. And Whiskey left you a chocolate bar.”
The biscuit was hard and rather tasteless, but the sugary orange drink made up for the biscuit and seemed to help steady my hands. “Thank you, Sergeant.” I gave him a wobbly smile. “You can go now. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
“Can’t. Got orders to stay with you until the doc returns.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to disobey orders and end up on KP with Jones.”
I relaxed against the pillows, fiddling with the silk ribbon at my neckline. Something was missing. I flattened my hand against my collar, then reached inside the gown, but my hunting fingers didn’t find the metal links they sought. The memory of my compass pendant sitting atop the pile of cards floated past. Did I put
it on? No, the pendant was tucked into the pocket of the coat. “Tank, do you know what happened to the German overcoat I was wearing?”
“No, ma’am, can’t say as I do.”
Panic gripped me. I shoved aside the sheets. “I need to find the coat.”
“Now hold up. Don’t go getting yourself into a twist. We can get you a new one if it’s missing. Sawyers said we just got a whole shipment of winter gear in yesterday.”
“No. You don’t understand. I must find that coat. It’s imperative.” Tears stung my eyes and I mashed my lips together to hold back a sob.
“Okay, calm down. Calm down. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. Let me check the wardrobe... Here it is.” He laid the wool across my lap. “Now what is so important about this Kraut coat?”
I checked the left pocket but came up empty. Foolish of me. I flipped it over and dug around the rough lining of the other pocket; my fingers closed around the precious compass and relief flooded my system, warming me better than the bowl of soup. I withdrew the pendant, draped the chain over my head, and patted it in place.
Tank remained at the foot of the bed, watching my dramatic performance with a puzzled expression until the necklace rested on my chest, then his mouth turned down and a look of regret crossed his features. “Did your sweetheart give that to you?”
I chewed my bottom lip with no idea how to answer. Tank had been protective, gentle, and kind to me since finding me strapped to that chair. I remembered how he carried me down the stairs, but my heart belonged to another. And though there was nothing lover-like in my last encounter with Charlie, even if I’d lost him, I was unwilling to give up his talisman. Its bearing had saved my life.
“Is he an agent like you?”
I shook my head.
“In the service?”
“Yes,” I whispered. A knock at the door saved me from answering further. “Enter.”