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“I didn’t do anything.”
He took my chin and kissed my lips. For some reason, my body flared up again, but it wasn’t only desire. Lord, the things we had done last night. My gaze dipped to his crotch before returning to his face.
“You give me more strength than you think.” He kissed me again and took my hand. “Let’s go, or I’ll seriously consider staying here with you all day.”
Hand in hand, we walked downstairs for a quick breakfast. He wolfed down slices of buttered bread with apple syrup, cheese, and cold meat, and washed it down with coffee. I managed to have a piece of toast and a cup of tea, my stomach in a knot.
“The first mission is always the worst,” he said, taking my hand. “You’ll feel better with time.”
Cold gusts blew from the north when we walked out of the hotel. For being September, the air was chilly with the promise of snow. And it didn’t stop raining. The rain drummed on the roof of the cab we’d hired to drive to the end of the town. The knot of anxiety drew tighter in my belly the closer we were to the meeting point. A few days ago, my biggest worry had been flying from London to Amsterdam, the danger of the mission in the back of my mind. But now I couldn’t keep my hands still, and the wind only heightened my unease.
Roy closed his hand around mine. “Connor and Murphy will call you only when they have to interrogate Traube. If something goes wrong, you won’t be close to danger. You know your escape route, don’t you?”
I nodded, a lump swelling in my throat.
“Follow the plan, and everything will be fine.”
When he said that, he meant fine for me. If Traube was double-crossing us and the Gestapo attacked us, I’d probably be the only survivor of the mission because my orders were to flee and leave the others behind. Not very brave. Roy, Connor, and Murphy would have to fight for their lives, and Connor wasn’t even a beast.
Roy held my hand when we exited the cab to run towards Café Backus under the pelting rain. I glanced around, but aside from the guard posts and the barrier gate of the German border at the checkpoint, there wasn’t much to see. The wind blew too hard to let me keep my eyes open. It was with a sigh of relief that I stepped into the warm café.
From the coffee shop, we had an unobstructed view of the cars that streamed in and out of The Netherlands. Unobstructed but for the rain the wind slapped around. Sometimes it came down in sheets that blurred the glass and hid the road. But sometimes it slowed, a soft drizzle that the wind enjoyed confusing by pulling it up and down.
Connor and Murphy were sitting in a black car outside the café. I didn’t envy them. They must be freezing. Roy sat in front of me, carelessly reading the newspaper. To a casual observer, he would appear relaxed and slightly bored. But tension rode under his skin, and his fists clenched and unclenched slowly. I ordered another coffee and some speculaas, the spicy biscuits that stung the tip of my tongue. Contrary to Roy, my hand shook when I took a biscuit from the plate. My nervous stomach required something to work on while filled with anxiety. If there was a Gestapo agent in the café, he would figure out I wasn’t a mere tourist a mile away, but I doubted I could reach Roy’s perfect composure with only a few weeks of training. The clock on the wall read eleven o’clock. Traube was ten minutes late.
As the ten minutes became thirty and I ordered another cup of coffee, Roy folded the newspaper and stared at the downpour. The wind was still flogging Venlo with a punishing rhythm, as if it wanted to bring down the town.
Ten more minutes passed. Connor and Murphy’s car was beginning to attract the attention of the officers. One of them was prowling around them, glancing at the registration plate.
Roy scraped his chair back and rose. “I don’t like it. Kristin, you’ll go back to the hotel. I’ll talk with Connor, see if he needs help.”
My pulse gave a kick. “I want to stay. Traube might have been delayed.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Connor and Murphy can’t stay in that car for long, and if Traube arrives and sees his contacts surrounded by the police, he’ll flee and we’ll never hear from him again.”
“Five more minutes. Just five. Then you’ll go out and I’ll leave.” I wasn’t sure why the thought of Roy leaving the café terrified me, but as long as he stayed here, he would be fine.
Huffing, he sat down again. “Not a moment longer,” he muttered.
Five minutes passed, and Traube didn’t come. Connor lowered the window to talk with an officer.
Roy pointed at the door. The implacable cast of his body didn’t leave room for mercy. “To the hotel. Now.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he pinned me with a glare, daring me to challenge him. “Fine,” I said, taking my bag.
Right then, a black car rolled through the Dutch border and proceeded under the rain. It stopped next to Connor and Murphy.
“It’s him,” Roy said, eyes widening.
Holding my bag, I edged closer to the window and squinted through the rain. A man in a dark overcoat came out of the car, lowering his hat against the downpour. He bent over the window of Connor’s and Murphy’s car. It was too blurry to see who was talking to him from inside the car, and aside from the man’s hat and coat, I couldn’t see anything else.
“Let’s go.” Roy took my hand, his fingers clenching mine a tad too tightly. “Better to be ready.”
After paying the bill, Roy and I left the café. I blinked against the spray of rain on my face and the cold gusts shuffling my hair. Hugging my coat tighter about myself, I followed Roy as we ran across the street. We stopped at the bus shelter where we were supposed to wait to intervene in case of need. A raspy breath came out of Roy, who stiffened next to me, his hand sliding inside his jacket.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“I’m not sure. An odd scent in the air.”
