Page 19 of The Last Library of Paris

‘I’m Henry Hughes,’ he said, offering his hand for me to shake. ‘I’m Valentine’s assistant.’

‘Cassandra Watkins,’ I said. ‘Cassie.’

‘You’re in Section D?’

‘Yes.’

‘But not at the moment?’

‘No.’

‘But you’re coming back soon?’

‘Eleven days.’

He nodded. His voice was soft and sing-song-like, but his eyes were sharp and knowing. ‘Understood.’

I felt a little uncomfortable suddenly. I didn’t like telling people about Jamie, though I supposed strictly speaking I hadn’t told Hughes anything really.

‘Are you Welsh?’ I asked even though it was obvious from his accent. I just wanted to change the subject.

‘I am.’

‘Why are you here?’ I sat down on the chair where Bingham had been sitting. ‘You and Valentine. Why are you in Lisbon?’

I saw Hughes hesitate for the briefest moment, wondering how much to tell me, and then he made his decision.

‘What do you know about MI9?’ he asked.

‘MI9?’ I was flummoxed. ‘Nothing at all.’

Hughes rolled his eyes. ‘Hardly anyone knows about us. It’s based in the Metropole Hotel in Northumberland Avenue in London. It’s understaffed, underfunded, under the thumb of MI6, and now it’s under Valentine’s control.’

‘Sounds like a poisoned chalice,’ I said.

‘Maybe.’

I leaned forward.

‘But what does it do?’ I asked. ‘What does MI9 actually do?’

Hughes stood up a bit straighter, clearly proud of his job.

‘Escapers and evaders,’ he said. ‘MI9 is responsible for getting downed airmen, lost soldiers, POWs, anyone of that ilk, back to Britain.’

‘Is that even possible?’ I asked, astonished.

‘You’d be surprised.’

‘It seems an enormous job.’

‘How do you eat an elephant?’

I looked at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘How do you eat an elephant?’ he said again. ‘One bite at a time. Big jobs seem overwhelming until you break them down into smaller tasks.’

I chuckled. ‘I see.’