The Paris Agent(56)

I wanted to go home. I had completed my mission carefully and faithfully. Until just that very minute, I’d assumed the SOE officials were all thrilled with my work, but I was suddenly questioning everything. Had I made a mistake? Had I missed something?

“I know of at least one double agent. There are possibly more,” Turner said grimly. “I cannot tell you how I know, or who I suspect…rather, who I know them to be. But I will tell you this much because you need to know—Eloise, by the time you left Rouen, the Germans knew you were there. They know your real name. More than that, they know your mother and son’s names.”

“No,” I gasped. “No, sir. That’s impossible.”

The SOE was an agency that prioritized secrecy above all else—that’s why we used code names, why we went to such lengths to maintain distance from one another. I’d never before heard of an active agent’s family being exposed.

“I can’t tell you how I know this,” Turner repeated. “But I assure you, the threat is very real.”

“Are they in danger?” I demanded. On their own, they were vulnerable. I needed to get home to keep them safe! “Is this why my mother was called away on business while I was in the field?”

Turner turned to face me.

“About a week after you left, my secretary called me at home,” he said. “She was working late when a call came in on Elwood’s line. It was one of your neighbors. She heard your son crying inside your flat but your mother wasn’t answering the door. The neighbor and her husband broke a window to get inside. They found your mother. She had collapsed.” The conversation was starting to feel like a bad dream. I shook my head numbly. “They tried to revive her,” he continued. “I’m sorry. It was just too late.”

“No,” I said, ridiculously. “She can’t be gone. She just can’t—”

“I know this is distressing but we have a lot to get through, Eloise,” he said calmly, and he reached into his jacket, passing me a freshly pressed handkerchief. “Please try to focus.”

My eyes were dry, but I took the handkerchief anyway. I wrung it through my fingers as I nodded for him to continue.

“They found Ms. Elwood’s number on a card in your kitchen.”

“Yes. Just before I left, she gave it to me to give to Maman in case anything went wrong while I was away,” I whispered absently.

“Your neighbors weren’t sure what to do with the boy. They said they barely know you.” I closed my eyes at that. It was true—Giles and I inherited the flat from his mother, who was a vibrant, active part of the community in that block of flats. But the neighbors were all so much older than me and I was convinced we had little in common. I never got to know them beyond the occasional nod in the hallway. And then Maman came to live with me and we formed a little bubble around ourselves. “I arranged for Elwood to take your son for a few nights. To be honest, I learned of your mother’s death around the same time I…” He paused, cleared his throat, then finished carefully, “Well, I understood the Germans had your real name by then. I assumed her death was suspicious.”

“You think they killed my mother—”

“The timing was concerning,” he interrupted me. “I’ve since spoken with a doctor at the morgue and he said it was most likely natural causes. But at first, my only concern was keeping your son safe and I knew Elwood wouldn’t let a thing happen to him even if they did manage to track him down at her place. She lives with her mother, and her mother is a fierce sort, but maternal, you know? It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

“But where is Hughie now?” I blurted. “Elwood said she had him for four nights. It’s been weeks!”

“I found an excellent child-minder. She has no idea who he really is—she doesn’t even know his real name. She knows only that his security is potentially at risk.”

I felt crushed by the conversation—the news about my mother, sheer terror for my son. How long had he been left alone with Maman after her collapse? Was he traumatized? How could he adjust to so many strangers? His whole life until then, he’d only had me and Maman.

He was probably beside himself, even now. He was probably crying for me, wondering where I went.

“Please, take me to him,” I said. Mr. Turner cleared his throat.

“Elwood and Maxwell are already planning to ask you to return to France.”

“I’ll refuse,” I gasped incredulously. “Everything has changed now! Surely you understand that.”

“Did Elwood give you the photograph she purchased?”

“She did, but…”

“Then you saw how settled he was. That was just two days after your mother’s passing. He is well settled where he is, and more importantly, he is safe there. Even if you retrieve him tonight, all you do is to make him identifiable again. And if you do choose to return—”

“I won’t!” I interrupted him rudely. “My priority must be my son now, Mr. Turner. I can keep him safe better than anyone can.”

“The work is not finished, Eloise.”

“But it is finished for me now that my mother is dead!” I exclaimed roughly. “I did everything the SOE asked of me. I went to Normandy. I’ve—”