A sharp buzzer interrupted her thoughts and her heart leaped. She went outside to find James standing by the doorway, absent his formal jacket, his button-down shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. His breath panted as though he had run there. He held up his hand before she could speak. “Let us discuss this inside, and I’ll answer whatever it is you want to know.”
She folded her arms over her chest and locked away her barrage of questions. He would receive them in full force in only a moment’s time. She shifted back a step in silent invitation for him to enter the building and followed him up to her apartment.
When he entered, he went first to the windows, which stood open, and looked back at Ava. “May I close these?”
She eyed him warily, not expecting the nature of his confessions to be so clandestine. The work she and Mike did as well as that of their British counterparts was not entirely so covert that it required that measure of tight security.
“You may.” She strode toward her bedroom. “I’ll close the others.”
When she returned, a towel was rolled beneath the door to her apartment as well.
“What is this?” she asked. “Does this have to do with that night at Monserrate Palace?”
“Somewhat.” James settled onto the small brown sofa, one elbow casually draped over the arm.
Ava sat on the chair beside the couch, her body stiff. “Who do you work for?”
“The British government,” he answered in a quiet tone despite the precautions. “But I am not ASLIB.”
She pulled in a breath. “I know.”
“Please forgive the lie of omission.” He gave her an earnest look, his eyes warm and soft in a way she used to find endearing. “I am part of a highly trained special operatives unit.”
She shook her head, not understanding. “A spy?”
He nodded. “I was sent to Lisbon to gather intelligence to assist with the attack in Normandy that happened this morning.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My purpose here was to gather details. This was implemented long before the plan began to take shape, to see if such a thing would even be possible.”
His face was open and honest as he spoke, but then if he truly was a spy who had received solid training, he could make anything convincing, couldn’t he?
“Why did you mislead me?” she asked, regarding him with scrutiny in an effort to find something amiss, a tell that someone who didn’t know him as well as she did might not be able to catch. Something she would certainly note. Or, at least, she hoped.
There was a long pause before he finally answered. “Because you inadvertently became involved.”
“What? How?” Her hand clapped over her mouth as a name struck her. “Diogo Silva.” The man who lived next door, who had been taken away by the PVDE after she spoke with Lukas.
“No,” James said with conviction. “Though I did not impart the entire truth about him as I didn’t want you digging around.”
Ava opened her lips to argue that she would not have, and James lifted a brow. She stifled her protest. They both knew she would have continued to hunt for details if she’d caught a trace of a scent.
“He did own the kiosk, yes,” James continued. “But he also worked for Avante!, an underground press here in Portugal that operated outside of their strict censorship. I lightly prodded about when I looked into his disappearance for you and ended up with the PVDE following me for weeks after. When I tell you the conversation you had with the man you know as Lukas did not result in Diogo Silva’s fate, know that you can completely put your conscience to rest. You truly had nothing to do with his disappearance.”
Ava released a long, slow exhale as the burden of the man’s arrest eased from her shoulders. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized the weight of guilt clinging to her since that night.