The Paris Agent(55)

“Wait,” I croaked, and I fished around in the pocket of the dress she’d loaned me. First, I withdrew the letter from Chloe, still folded neatly in half. “She knows it’s against the rules, but Chloe wrote a letter for her mother. I haven’t read it, but she assures me it’s completely benign, and—”

“I’m sure it would be, knowing Chloe,” Elwood said, taking it from me. “But regardless, I can’t send it on. As you well understand, even simple words can be used to express covert meanings. What if it was a coded message that simply looked like a letter? What if it’s an encryption key? I’ll hold onto it though. If anything happens to her, I’ll make sure her mother gets it.”

“Thank you. And there’s something else.” I reached back into my pocket and withdrew the brooch. “A gift for you.”

“A gift?” she repeated, thin eyebrows arching high. “How on earth did you pay…”

“Best not to know,” I said, winking at her, and she opened the box and gasped.

“My goodness, Fleur. This is so thoughtful of you.”

“Just a little something to say thank you. I did a fantastic job, and no wonder, because that’s exactly what you all prepared me to do.”

“Well,” she said, blinking down at the brooch, then at me. She hesitated, then reached back down onto a leather folio on the table and swung it open. “I was going to give this to you later, but this seems a better time now. I met your son, you see.”

“You met Hughie?”

“Your mother was called away on business for a few days and asked us to arrange alternate care of him. I have no children myself, but the men here seemed to think that I was the only one of us qualified for such a job. My mother lives with me and was thrilled at the prospect so I found it hard to say no.” She rifled through the papers in the folio, then withdrew a tiny black-and-white photograph. “On the first day he seemed a bit sullen and there was a fair at the park near my flat so Mother and I took him for a walk. A man was taking photographs for a few pence. Hughie was having so much fun by then, I knew you’d enjoy sharing the moment.”

I was utterly bewildered as I took the photograph, but there was my son, looking off beyond the lens, laughing at the camera as bubbles floated on the air around him. Hughie was wearing clothes a size or two too big, and he had that little rash he sometimes got around his mouth when a new tooth was coming in. But he was holding a strawberry in one hand and he was grinning—his eyes shining, his entire face alight with joy. In the background I could see carnival rides.

“But…what business would Maman…？” I trailed off, completely baffled.

“I’m not exactly sure. Turner spoke with her and arranged it all. She’s back now and everything is fine. I know they’ll be thrilled to see you, so I won’t keep you a minute longer. Thank you again for the brooch.”

“And thanks for the photo,” I said but I could not help a pang of alarm. Maman was all but penniless—I had been supporting her since she came to live with me and she had no business to attend to, as far as I knew. God, had one of her scoundrel ex-husbands returned? Or had she followed some new man—leaving Hughie behind, just as she’d so often left me behind as a child?

The thought made me feel ill. Had I been wrong to trust that she’d turned over a new leaf?

“Ready, Fleur?” Turner was in the doorway. His usual smile was strangely absent, and he didn’t attempt to make small talk with me as we walked to his car. Once he had pulled his Vauxhall out into the street, I sighed with pleasure and relief that it was finally over.

“You probably know this, sir, but my flat is at Bexley.”

Turner was silent for a moment. He cleared his throat, then said, “I’m sorry, but we can’t go to your flat just yet.”

“But—”

“I know you’re tired but this is quite important, Eloise,” he said, startling me with the use of my real name. Of course he knew it, officials at his level knew just about everything. But this was the first time I’d heard my name in the context of SOE business ever since I was called into a room at the Northumberland Hotel for a meeting on what I thought was a matter of confusion around Giles’s war pension, but what turned out to be the wildest imaginable job interview.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, but I waited in silence as Turner stared at the road. My pulse started to race. “You’re making me uneasy, sir. What’s going on?”

Just a few blocks from the SOE office, he pulled the car into a parking space then flicked the ignition off. Still staring out the windscreen, he said, “Almost everyone in the SOE is brilliant. Almost everyone is loyal. There are exceptions to the rule.”

“Every agent I’ve worked or trained with has represented the agency with skill and pride.” I frowned. “During our training, you and the other officials were very quick to weed out those who lacked the necessary character.”

“The system is not perfect, I’m afraid. The miserable reality is that there are double agents within our ranks.”

A burst of defensiveness immediately surged through me.

“Mr. Turner, I do hope you are not suggesting—” I said hotly, but he quickly interrupted me, his tone calm but firm.

“I’m not accusing you of anything and this conversation will be much easier for us both if you just let me speak.”