He drove them to a stretch of old, crumbling aqueducts and parked. “One of the Maquis depots,” he said as he reached for his door handle. “Undiscovered, so far as I could tell. There are supplies inside. Cash. I didn’t figure you’d trust me to take you to one of your locations.”
He was right. And Marcel didn’t even have to admit it, since his cousin hopped down. Marcel climbed out too, his body protesting every move. By the time he rounded the cab, Zelie and the others were climbing from the back, and she was striding straight for the depot, clearly recognizing it.
Leave it to Zelie. She’d have a plan in place in another thirty seconds.
Marcel stopped beside his cousin and turned to face him. He held out a hand. “Thank you, cousin. You saved our lives tonight. We won’t forget it.”
Emile gripped with one hand, covered it with the other. His nostrils flared. “Hearing you call mecousinis all the thanks I need.” He released him, easing a step back. “Good luck, Marcel.”
“Go with God, Emile.” Marcel backed away but kept his eyes trained on the lorry as Emile turned it around and vanished again into the night. Once its engine noises faded, he became aware of Zelie doling out instructions and provisions behind him.
“You’ll find Chamois here,” she was saying, tapping on paper. He turned and saw it was a map that she held out to thegendarmes. “Tell her Honey Badger sent you and you’ve come two by two.”
Andre frowned. “There are only three of us.”
“Noah’s ark reference, you dolt.” But Daviau chuckled. “It’s a code phrase?”
She nodded. “She should say, ‘Good, the waters are rising.’ If she doesn’t, she’s not Chamois and you’re in the wrong place.” She turned to Henri.
“I know my rendezvous point.” He was slinging a canteen over his back and shoving tins of food into an army-green bag. Once it was filled, he hefted that too, and gave them a nod. “See you in a fortnight or so at the new headquarters.”
The four men struck out with murmured wishes for luck and Godspeed, leaving only Marcel and Zelie. She was still studying one of the maps, tilting it to try to see it in the moonlight.
Marcel slipped up behind her and slid his arms around her middle. “And you,mon étoile? You know MI6 is going to order you to London.” Again.
But this time, would she go? Run Alliance from someplace still free?
Zelie leaned her head back against Marcel’s shoulder and let the map sag. She knew he was right. MI6 would issue a command, like they always did. Aimed at keeping her safe.
But what wassafein this world anyway?Thiswas where she was needed. She shook her head. “There’s too much to do here. We need to reorganize again, institute new precautions, now that the Nazis have swarmed the south.”
No more Free France... but that didn’t have to mean no more Alliance. It only meant they’d have to shift too. Change however necessary. Perhaps even go into hiding, alter their appearances, stay on the move.
But they wouldn’t give up. Not now, when the very occupationof the south proved that they’d succeeded in something big, something far-reaching, something she never would have dreamed was possible when Navarre first recruited her.
The Allies had invaded North Africa because ofthem. And they’d need them for more work now. Work that, God willing, would help them get a foothold in Europe too.
And the Nazis knew it—feared it. That was why they’d swarmed in. Lions on the prowl, thinking they could overwhelm them with a flood of force.
But they’d ride it out, like Noah on his ark.
The night air was cold, but Marcel’s arms, despite being bare, were warm against her. Though the bare arms wouldn’t do—there’d be a few shirts and coats in the depot. They’d find him some. Soon.
Her throat went tight. They’d ride the ark... but their enemies thoughthewas Noah. “You could go.” She had to force the words past her lips. “You’ve made yourself the Nazis’ prime target with that stunt you pulled in there.”
“And I’d do it again, if it kept you safe for one more day.”
Her eyes slid shut. “You’d be safer in London. You could ride out the rest of the war there. Be our liaison.”
“Never.” He nudged her with his nose, and she opened her eyes in time to catch the dying trail of a shooting star. Knew it lit up the sky for her children in Switzerland too. “I go wherever you go,mon étoile.”
She turned in his arms, too many wants tangled up inside her to speak. Too many dreams she wanted to share.
But she couldn’t. In this, she couldn’t bela patronne. She couldn’t just tell him she needed to be his wife, needed to be able to turn to his arms, needed the anchor of his love. She needed him to ask. But he wouldn’t until he knew it was what she wanted, that she was ready. So how to let him know?
His eyes were locked on to hers, colorless in the night but noless beautiful. When he smiled, that dimple winked out. He lifted a hand to brush through her hair. “Will you marry me, Zelie? It doesn’t have to be now, if you’re not ready. But someday? Will you—”
She silenced him with a kiss. And tapped out her answer against his shoulder. --- ..- ..
