The Darkest Hour(43)

It’s like she’s a street cat, popping up whenever I least expect her. She must have nine lives, too, because this is twice now that she has escaped from the Germans’ clutches. A dozen questions spring to the tip of my tongue. I know I need to wait until we arrive at headquarters to release them, but one wriggles out. “When did you make it home?”

“This morning.”

I break into a smile for the first time in days. “You beat me back.” Of course she did. “Did you … ?” My smile fades because I have to choose my next words with care. There’s an elderly couple sitting on a bench across the street from us, and you never know if there’s a Nazi patrol waiting around the corner. “Did you run into any trouble?”

“I ran into plenty, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“When we left you—” I stop because I’ve said too much already. “I’m so glad to see you again. And … and I have something to tell you.”

“Oh? I’ve something to tell you, too.”

With our secrets dangling between us, we return to the bookstore and descend into the dark lair of headquarters. The smell of dust and mold creeps into my nose. I used to hate this scent, but now I take in a long breath of it. Home. But that cozy feeling doesn’t linger, because Harken’s initials crop up in my mind again.

Sabine lights the candles on the hallway table. “Tell me what happened to Dorner. Did you make it to the coordinates?”

“We did. He should be in London by now, telling the SOE everything that he told us.”

“Good. That’s very good.” She shuts her eyes in relief, but the moment is fleeting. “What about the double agent?”

My mouth goes dry. “He gave me the agent’s initials.”

“That’s all? He said he’d give us a name!”

“The initials are T.J.H.”

Sabine goes quiet as she puzzles out the letters, and it doesn’t take her long to unravel them. “Major Harken?” she whispers.

I wait for her to swear up and down, or maybe she’ll defend Harken until her face purples, but she doesn’t do either. She’s oddly calm about what I’ve told her. Something must be off.

“You don’t seem very surprised by this news,” I say.

“I’m not.” She doesn’t elaborate, merely crooks a finger in my direction. “You better follow me.”

I remember that she had something to tell me, too, and so I follow her down the dim hall and toward Harken’s private quarters. He always keeps his door tightly locked, but Sabine picks the lock with ease and strides inside. I stop in place.

“Did you break into Harken’s office?” I ask.

“I had no other choice. He wasn’t here, and I needed to check the radio in case the OSS had a message for us.”

“Did they?”

“No, but I heard something else on the frequency.” She takes out a piece of paper from her blouse pocket and presses it into my palm. “Here. It was in Morse.”

I stare at the paper. My own Morse code is rusty, but I manage to translate it after a few tries:

TJH: Tuileries Garden. Usual time. Your payment is ready.



The room tilts, and my head goes with it. “You heard this on the radio? You’re sure?”

“Undeniably. I heard it three times.” She nods at the suitcase that holds Harken’s radio. To use it, she would’ve needed to drag the suitcase up to the ground floor to get a signal. I imagine her stooped by the window, pointing the antenna discretely out while she turned the dials to pick up any messages—and coming across this one. “You do know what this means, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I mumble. Although I still can’t quite believe it. “Is the message still being broadcast?”

“Perhaps. I can’t be sure.”

“I need to hear it.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you with my life.” And that’s the truth, after what we’ve been through these last three days. “But we’re talking about Major Harken committing treason, Sabine. We need to be absolutely sure before we throw around any accusations.”

“You’re holding the proof in your hands.” She motions at the Morse-coded message she has given me. “Dorner’s intelligence confirms it. How do you explain that?”

I don’t have an answer for her. The thing is, I can’t clear Major Harken’s name … and yet I know this man. Never in a thousand years would I think that he’s a spy. And to be honest, I thought Sabine would share my doubts.

But Sabine seems to have made up her mind already. “You simply don’t want to see the truth, do you?” She crosses her arms, and a sharp blaze of hurt punches my stomach. She’s talking to me like I’m a fool, and frankly I’m tired of her hot-and-cold routine. I thought we had worked past it.

“Listen to me—” I start, but my voice falls silent when we hear five crisp knocks on the hatch. Someone’s here. Maybe Tilly.

I tuck Sabine’s scrawled message into my pocket and head out, but Sabine makes a grab at me.

“Lucie!” she hisses. “What if it isn’t a friendly?”

But I heard the five knocks loud and clear, and all I can think about is Tilly—that she’s alive and that she has come home—except when the hatch unlocks I don’t find her descending the ladder rungs.