“It means we’re running out of sources,” Will said grimly.
“Yes.” The Baroness rose from the table. “It means we will have to find other paths, other connections.” She looked at Bisch. “Bisch, I need you to reach out to Maurer, the forger in Basel. He workedwith Aldric during the war. He may know something.”
“I will make contact tonight,” Bisch said.
“Carefully, through different channels than before.”
If the implication stung, Bisch didn’t show it. He simply nodded once and left the room.
When he was gone, Will turned to me and whispered, “You think it’s him?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head slowly. “The Baroness trusts him completely, and she’s rarely wrong about people.” I paused, running through the timeline in my head. “But someone knew about that meeting. Someone told them where Weber would be. Bisch is the common thread.”
“He’s not the only one who knew,” Will pointed out.
“No, but he’s the one who set it up. He chose the café, the time, and the method of contact.” I rubbed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I’m not accusing him. I’m just . . . noting.”
“Note quietly,” Will said. “If we’re wrong about him, we lose one of our only allies. If we’re right . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
The Baroness had moved to the window and was staring out at the darkening street. Her reflection in the glass looked haunted, the face of a woman watching her world crumble one piece at a time.
“Whoever the leak is,” she said without turning around, “they will show themselves eventually. Traitors always do. It is simply a matter of watching, and waiting, and not dying before they reveal themselves.”
“How comforting,” I muttered.
“It is not meant to be comforting, Thomas.” She turned from the window, and her eyes were hard. “It is meant to be true. We are in enemy territory now. Every step we take, every contact we make, someone is watching. Someone is reporting. The only question is who. Until we know the answer, we trust no one absolutely, not even each other.”
She left the room without another word.
Will and I sat in silence for a long moment, listening to her footsteps fade up the stairs.
“Well,” he said finally. “That’s not ominous at all.”
I reached over and took his hand.
“We trust each other,” I said quietly. “Whatever else happens.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Whatever else happens,” he agreed.
Outside, somewhere in that darkness, enemies were moving, circling, closing in.
And somewhere—maybe in this very house—a traitor was feeding our secrets to the wolves.
I held Will’s hand tighter and tried not to think about how few of us might be left standing when this was over.
7
Will
Ilay in the narrow bed of our safe house room listening to Thomas breathe beside me and tried to quiet the thoughts that churned through my mind.
Weber’s terrified face.
The spearhead card.
The Baroness’s warning: We trust no one absolutely. Not even each other.
