The Darkest Hour(49)

“Christiane told us to stay in this room.”

“I can’t have his blood on me.” She reaches for the door and I try to pull her back, but it doesn’t matter in the end because both of us freeze at the sound of footsteps below us. Two shadows ascend the ladder into the attic, and I’m relieved to see the both of them. Sabine and Laurent. He must have come home early from the club.

“Les filles,” Laurent says, hoarse. He hugs Tilly and me, and she collapses into his arms, softly crying into the crook of his neck. Sabine and I, however, watch them at a distance.

Minutes pass before Laurent pulls away from Tilly’s embrace. “Can we be sure of Harken’s betrayal?”

“More than sure,” Sabine says. Again, she’s astonishingly calm. At least one of us is at her best during a crisis like this. “We all heard the radio message that the Nazis sent him.”

“It’s true,” I add quietly. “I heard it, too.”

Laurent’s shoulders curve inward. “Of all the people who could have betrayed us, I thought the major would be the very last.”

Tilly rubs her eyes with the heels of her palm. “Me too.”

“He had all of us under his spell,” says Sabine, “but no longer. The truth might be painful, but we’re better off knowing his real intentions.”

“I’ll speak with the Resistance,” says Laurent. “We must get you three to safety as soon as possible. I’ll see you to the Spanish border myself if I have to.”

“Leave France, you mean?” I say, blinking.

“But of course. You’d be risking your lives by staying in Paris, or in the country altogether, for that matter. Now that Covert Ops is no more—”

Sabine steps forward. “Covert Ops is very much intact.”

“Without Major Harken, though—”

“We don’t need Major Harken. We have the three of us,” she continues. “That’s plenty to carry out the mission ahead of us.”

“Mission?” Tilly says.

“Dismantling Operation Zerfall.” Sabine looks to me. I gape at her for a heartbeat. She can’t mean what I think she means. After what we’ve just been through … But it isn’t long before I find myself nodding. Even with Harken gone and headquarters blown apart, Covert Ops survives in this very room—and we have unfinished business.

Swiftly Sabine and I take turns explaining what we learned at Cherbourg: the Zerfall virus, the secret laboratory, Hitler’s plans for the Allies. When we finish explaining the details, both Tilly and Laurent are left breathless.

“What will become of us?” Laurent whispers.

“This is why we must shut down the laboratory where Dorner worked,” Sabine says.

Laurent balks. “Take down an entire Nazi facility? The three of you against their citadel?”

“It has to be the three of us,” I hear myself say. “We don’t know if Dorner made it safely across the Channel. The Germans could’ve sunk the SOE’s submarine. Even if he did reach the English coast, it could be months before the Allies gain access to the laboratory. They have no land access to the laboratory’s coordinates, and they have to destroy the building from within. It’s too far underground for the bombers to have any effect.”

Laurent nods grimly. “Then how do you plan to destroy it?”

Tilly’s eyes come to life. “A well-placed bomb should do the trick. You brought the Aunt Jemima, didn’t you, Lucie?”

“We have a bagful,” I reply.

Laurent rubs his chin. “It might not be my place to say this, but the three of you will be throwing yourselves into the lion’s den.”

What he says is true. The chances of us taking down the laboratory must be close to nothing, but I can’t run away to Spain. The photos that Dorner showed me flash through my mind, stopping on the picture of the little girl crying blood. And remembering that, I know that my decision is made.

“We joined Covert Ops knowing the risks,” I tell him, “and we’ll need your help in getting to Verdun. We have the right coordinates but taking the train will be too much of a risk.”

Laurent sighs but relents. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

We spend a sleepless night curled up like motherless kittens in the attic, each of us snapping awake at the softest sound: a dripping faucet, the creak of a fan, the gunshots in our dreams. Sometime in the middle of the night I jolt awake to find my shirt damp with sweat. I see Major Harken all over again, dying, his blood everywhere. I hug my pillow and wish that Theo were here to squeeze my hand, like he used to do when I was little and Papa went off on one of his binges. I look left and right to Tilly and Sabine, both fast asleep. I have the two of them, at least. Along with Ruthie, they’re the closest things I have to sisters.



Come morning, Christiane shakes us awake and leads us silently down the stairs and through the back door of the house with our valises in tow. Once outside, we find ourselves standing in front of an old truck with rust scattered over its body.

“My father is already in the driver’s seat,” Christiane says. Her voice is hushed, as the rest of the neighborhood slumbers on. “I put some food and fresh clothes inside for you.”

“How in the world did you find a vehicle of this size?” Sabine says, the exhaustion in her eyes disappearing as she takes in the truck.