The Darkest Hour(45)

“How much are they paying you?” she shouts at him. “How much did it cost to buy you?”

Harken turns a violent shade of scarlet. Then everything happens so fast. A fuse bursts inside of him and he slaps her hard. At that very moment, the anger in his eyes shifts to shock, but Sabine is just as quick to react. She yanks out a tiny pistol from her skirt pocket, one that she must’ve gotten from the weaponry upon her return to headquarters. Except she isn’t using it on a German officer or a Nazi collaborator. She’s pointing the barrel straight at Harken’s heart.

“What are you doing?” I cry to her.

She ignores me. “Put your hands up where I can see them. Sir.”

Harken looks ready to throttle her, but he does as she says, bringing his hands over his head slowly. Then he shouts knives into the air. “You’re out of the OSS completely, Chevalier! Pack your bags before I throw you out myself. That’s an order.”

“You just threw me out of Covert Ops,” Sabine says, a smirk on her lips. “I no longer take orders from you, you filthy traitor.”

“Blaise!” Harken says, his hands still in the air. “Seize Chevalier’s weapon. That’s our property she’s holding.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Sabine jumps in. “Do you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to drive us apart.”

“Calm down, the both of you!” I take a step toward them, but I keep a steady eye on the gun. I don’t want Sabine to swing it toward me. “Sabine, put down the gun. Major Harken, keep your hands up.”

“Do you hear what she said, Chevalier?” says Harken.

“But you do have to answer her questions, sir,” I say to him. “Our questions. Let’s get this straightened out. Why are you receiving messages from the Nazis?”

“Unbelievable! The two of you have gone completely mad!” He points a finger at Sabine. “Get that gun out of my face, Chevalier. Or you’re going to regret it.” His hand lowers slightly, and he eyes his desk drawer.

Fear wraps around my throat because I realize what he’s doing. “Sir, no!”

I might as well be shouting to a wall. With lightning quickness, he thrusts his hand into the drawer and his fingers coil around something—a gun?—but he never gets a proper handle on it.

Sabine’s pistol explodes three times. The sound clashes in my ears, a trio of pops. Harken stumbles back and drops to the floor.

“Major!” I cry.

Sabine’s pistol clicks empty. Horror fills her features, but it’s fleeting. Soon, there’s nothing but steel on her face.

Harken moans, and I stagger toward his desk.

“He’s a traitor,” Sabine whispers, but she doesn’t stop me from rushing next to him. His hands clutch a circle of red that’s blossoming over his shirt. Traitor or not, my stomach lurches. I search for something to staunch the wound but there’s too much blood.

“Blaise—”

“Save your breath!” I press my hand over his wounds, but I can’t stop the bleeding. He needs a doctor, a whole team of them.

He needs a miracle.

“Blaise,” he whispers. I grip his hand, but his fingers fall limp against mine.

“Hold on, sir. We’ll get help!”

With great effort, he tilts his head until his eyes land upon mine, but they’re already fluttering shut.

“I’ll find Laurent,” I tell him, but we both know that it’ll be useless.

“Blaise,” he whispers. Blood trickles out from his lips. “Don’t … trust her.”

His hand drops to the floor, thudding dully and going still.

“Sir?” I whisper. Trembling, I reach to check his pulse, but even before I touch his skin I know that he’s already gone.

Major Harken is dead.





I squeeze Major Harken’s fingers, but there’s no response. I shake him, then slap him.

Nothing happens.

“Sir?” I hear my voice turn shrill. “Major?” My hands are slippery with his blood, the redness staining the cuffs of my sweater.

“Is he dead?” Her voice punctures the air, and I blink toward it. Sabine stares at Harken’s body, the pistol still resting in her hand. Something breaks inside me at the sight of it. I lunge at her and snatch it from her grasp before I toss it across the room.

“Yes, he’s dead. Harken’s dead!” I say.

My shrillness seems to cut through her haze. “Keep your voice down! Do you want every Nazi in Paris to hear you?”

I jump to my feet, wishing I hadn’t tossed that pistol away, because I wouldn’t mind using it right now. “You killed Major Harken and you’re telling me to keep quiet?”

“He was reaching for his gun!”

“How do you know that’s what he was reaching for? You shot him before we could see anything!”

“I was defending myself!” To prove it, she steps over Major Harken’s body like it’s a piece of litter in the street and yanks open the drawer, where she fishes out his personal pistol. “Do you see now?”

“It’s not like you gave him much choice, pulling your gun on him like that!” I knock her hand away, and Major Harken’s last words echo in my ears. Don’t trust her.