But he couldn’t trust that. Wouldn’t. It had been Zelie there that day—and Zelie was now running for her life. Marcel pursed his lips, drew his brows together, and struck out toward his parents’ house. “Unfortunately, no. I’ve been seeing someone, but she’s never waited for me here.” More lies, but he had to hope the Lord would understand.
“No? This beauty had dark hair, blue eyes.”
He made himself shake his head. And drew up the image of the only other girl he could even think of right now—Anne, who’d be training with Gabriel on the radio in Paris. “Anne is blonde, but with striking dark eyes.”
“Ah.” Lothar shrugged in the moonlight. “Must have been waiting for someone from a neighboring building, then. I meant to rib you about her when we met last time, but it slipped my mind. Big plans for Christmas?”
Marcel’s fingers went tight around the handle of his briefcase. Would his world have totally fallen apart by then? “I’m hoping for a quiet holiday,” he said. “After I get back from Paris. You?”
Lothar hummed out a breath. “My very own hope.”
Thirteen
Never in her life had Zelie driven so fast on the twisting, narrow mountain roads that led from Marseille to their borrowed villa. Caution, however, had no place in this night.
Everything was at the villa.Everything.All their plans, all their equipment, so many agents.Maman.
Hands gripping the wheel, she barreled around one more turn and then jammed on the brakes, skidding to a near halt at the top of a hill. She pulled her Citroën off the road, into the trees. Months ago, they’d scoped out this hiding spot.
She’d never planned on using it. But she parked, got out, and ran to where the trees thinned again, clutching her coat closed against the bitter December air. During the day, this vantage point would have given her a clear view of the villa, the sea beyond its rocky cliffs. At night, she shouldn’t have been able to see much of anything, aside from hulking shadows.
Lights speared the night. Lights from the house. Lights from the cars parked helter-skelter around it. Lights in small beams cutting across the grounds, no doubt in the hands ofgendarmes.
She took off down the hill, stumbling over tree roots but plowing forward anyway.
The closer she drew, the more her senses were bombarded. Shouting to scald her ears. The smoke of burning paper to singe her nose. And always, the acrid taste of fear in her mouth as she ran, ran, ran through the trees.
“Zelie!” The shout came from somewhere behind her, but she ignored Henri’s familiar voice.
She was almost to the clearing. She could see the familiar winding drive, the front doors of the villa that were flung open, spilling light.
Maman—Maman being dragged out by two men in uniform.
Her mouth opened, a scream building in her throat.
A hand clamped over her mouth and jerked her whole body backward. “Are you mad?”
It took her mind several seconds to parse the English words.
Blanchet. His was the voice, his the unfamiliar hand, his the tall and slender body she’d been pulled up against. “Hush.” His voice was low, in French now. “You don’t want to give us away.”
Reason crashed into her with even more force than his hand had. She slumped, shaking her head.
Blanchet let her go, even as more footsteps crashed through the woods behind them. Henri.
She couldn’t drag her gaze away from the drive, where her mother was being shoved into a police car. “Did Lucien not get my message?” They wouldn’t know, of course. If they were out here, that meant they hadn’t been in there.
“It came in just as the headlights flashed up the drive,” Blanchet shocked her by saying. “I was on the ground floor and shouted up a warning, ran through to the back. Lucien tossed his radio to me.”
She glanced over, saw the small transmitter cradled in Blanchet’s hands. His face, even in the darkness, was grim. “What else? What else did we save?”
The Englishman shook his head. “I don’t know. From the smell, they managed to get some of the papers, at least, into the fireplaces. Lucien said he’d burned the radio map.”
A small, albeit critical, blessing. She turned to Henri, who approached on her other side. “Were you there?”
Henri shook his head. “I saw all the lights and pulled off the road, stashed the car.” He gripped her arm, pulled her back a few steps. “We need to leave. Now.”
“But—”
