“The President is entering the Oval. I have to go. Send me your flight details. A man will be waiting at the airport.”
I hung up the phone and stared blankly for a long moment. We knew we were violating protocols and disregarding orders. We knew Manakin was pissed. Still, there’s no way someone thousands of miles away could understand what it meant to choose between following orders and the blood of good men and women. We had to be flexible, to respond as conditions changed and facts shifted.
And now, we would pay for those choices.
I only hoped we wouldn’t pay with our careers—or our freedom.
When I didn’t turn or speak, Thomas stepped up behind me. I felt his presence before his hand squeezed my shoulder. He leaned close and whispered, “Deep breath, babe. Whatever’s coming, we’ll handle it.”
I closed my eyes and hoped he was right.
The American team ignored how the color had drained from my face, gathering their equipment, making their own calls, and beginning the long process of extracting themselves from an operation that had never officially existed.
Marcus shook my hand before he left. Eddie told me I’d done good work. Danny cracked jokes the way military men often did to cope with stress.
The woman—the stunningly beautiful enigma—remained silent.
Until her team had loaded their gear and were waiting for her in their car.
Thomas was asleep, finally surrendering to the need for recovery. The Baroness had yet to stir from her own nap. Bisch and I stood in the living room watching the team through the window.
The woman shook Bisch’s hand, neither showing an ounce of emotion, before turning to me.
“For a man,” she said, “you’ve got decent instincts. Your partner sucks at staying safe, but he’s pretty good, too.”
I looked at Bisch. The big man shrugged.
“Uh, thanks . . . I think.”
The woman’s smile was electric, her laugh brighter than midnight stars. “If you ever want to do real intelligence work, look me up. I’ll do my bestto teach you both a thing or two, though I doubt Condor will listen. He’s a stubborn one.”
“You have no idea,” I chuckled.
Then she cocked her head and extended her hand. I took it, expecting her to retreat quickly, but she held our grasp.
“My name is Katherine. It’s been an honor.”
Then they were gone.
By late afternoon, the radio station’s reports had moved on to other stories—the aftermath, the investigation, and the slow work of knitting the country back together. The announcer still spoke of the deeds of the night before, but they were now cast in the light of recovery work to be done.
We hadn’t arrived with much, so it took me no time to pack. I let Thomas sleep until the very last. Dr. Müller gave me a bottle filled with enough pain pills to numb half of Europe, urging me to sedate Thomas twice each day until he fully recovered his strength. He muttered something about, “the stubborn man would get himself killed—” but Thomas chose that moment to emerge from the bedroom, silencing whatever warning the good doctor was about to offer.
The Baroness emerged from her nap looking, for the first time all day, rested and somewhat content.She crossed the kitchen and began filling the kettle. “Bisch will drive you to the airport. You should be back in Paris by morning.” She set the kettle on the stove, lit the gas, then turned. Thomas had shuffled up beside me. “I wish I could do more to acknowledge what you two have done for Switzerland, give you the recognition you deserve—”
“We didn’t do any of this for recognition,” I said.
“No. I know that.” Her smile was filled with warmth. “But you deserve it nonetheless.”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew something small, glinting in the fading light. A pin—silver, in the shape of an edelweiss flower.
“This belonged to my father,” she said. “He gave it to me the day I took over his network. He told me it was a reminder of what we were fighting for—not politics or power, but the small, beautiful things that make life worth living.” She pressed it into my palm. “I want you to have it.”
I felt Thomas shift beside me.
“Baroness . . . Isabella . . . I can’t—”
“You can, and you must.” Her fingers closed around mine. “I have no children, no heirs, no one to carry on what I’ve built, but I have you—both of you—and that is more than I ever expected.” Her eyes were bright. “Take it and remember me. Remember this.”
