“The CIA team—” Will started.
“We must coordinate quickly,” the Baroness said. “The woman who leads them, she is capable?”
“From what I saw, she is very good.” Will’s ears didn’t turn red this time, but he was careful to not look in my direction.
The kettle chirped.
As the Baroness lifted it off the stove and poured water into her cup, she said, “We cannot coordinate through dead drops and chance meetings, not anymore, not with three days left.”
“What are you saying?” Will asked, eyes wide. “That we bring them here?”
The Baroness looked at him steadily. “I understand the risks. But yes, that is what I am asking. We need to plan together, properly, or we will fail separately.”
“Their team leader—” Will hesitated. “She’s careful. She may not agree to expose their location.”
“Then convince her. Tell her what is at stake. You did not give her the details, no? Give them to her. Let her see the scope of what we face. Tell her that a Swiss intelligence officer with forty years of experience is asking for her help.” A ghost of a smile crossed the Baroness’s face. “Tell her I will make coffee, and you will lend her your ear.”
Will’s eyes flew to mine, his cheeks even redder than when he’d exited the café after his initial meeting with the woman. I shrugged and failed to hide a smirk.
The Baroness wasn’t wrong. We’d been operating in fragments, passing information through intermediaries, and hoping the pieces would fit together when the moment came. That was a prayer more than a plan.
“I’ll make contact tonight,” Will said. “If they agree, I can bring them tomorrow morning.”
“Just send those two back with the request,” I said, nodding toward the living room. “There’s no need to use the dead drop. If she isn’t willing to come here without meeting first, she’ll leave a note. We can check the locker first thing in the morning.”
Will nodded slowly, though I could see his wheels turning. He didn’t like this at all.
“Good.” The Baroness sipped her tea and turned toward the hallway that led to the house’s bedrooms. “We will need every hour we can get.”
I found the two Americans in the living room. They were young and alert. They reminded me of Will and me as we entered Camp X years earlier. We barely understood what we’d signed up for back then, but God, we were excited to be part of it.
“Change of plans,” I said. “We need you to take a message back to your team leader.”
The blond glanced at the bushy-haired man. “What kind of message?”
“The Baroness wants to meet with your team here.” I kept my voice even, professional. “We need to coordinate properly. Dead drops and locker notes aren’t going to cut it anymore, not as we move into the active phase of this operation.”
“She’s not going to like that,” the blond said.
“Probably not, but you’ll all understand why it’s necessary when the Baroness fills you in.” I met his eyes. “Three days. That’s all we have. If we’re going to stop this thing, we need to be on the same page, looking at the same maps, making the same plans.”
The men exchanged another look. The blond shrugged.
“We’ll pass it along,” the bushy-haired man said finally. “Can’t promise anything.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
They left twenty minutes later, slipping out into the darkness the same way they’d come. I watched their taillights disappear down the road, then turned back to the house.
Will was waiting in the kitchen.
“We really need to get their names at some point. I’m pretty sure the ones I’ve made up for them would get me punched,” I said.
Will shook his head and chuckled. “Your nicknames are generally offensive, especially when you find men attractive.”
“Are you calling Olaf and Sven handsome?”
Will blinked. “Olaf and Sven? That’s terrible. They don’t even look Swedish.”
