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She arrives at Dancer’s apartment and rings the bell: three quick, three slow. Dancer opens the door, glancing past Andrée to check the street. They climb the stairs in silence, only speaking when they’re inside.

“You have them?” Dancer was informed the previous evening that Andrée would be visiting today with urgent intelligence, ready for transmission.

Andrée sets the bags on the table.

Dancer opens them, pulls out the files, her eyes widening as she reads the labels.

“Atlantic Radio Traffic. U-boat Communication. My God—Cat got them.”

“Only just,” Andrée says, and tells her about the encounter with the patrol, the fight with the Militia member, the escape, the dogs, and the searchlights.

Dancer listens, shaking her head. “He’s going to get himself killed one of these days.”

“I know.”

“But not today. And these files . . .” She flips through the pages, her expression growing ever more serious. “This is extraordinary information. Code frequencies, transmission schedules, relay protocols. If London can use this to intercept U-boat communications, they could save hundreds of ships, thousands of lives.”

“Can you transmit it tonight?”

Dancer looks at the papers, calculates. “Not alone. This is too much. Each transmission carries risk. The longer I’m on air, the more likely I am to be intercepted. To send all this would take me three, maybe four nights. That’s too dangerous.”

“What if we split it? You take one file, someone else takes the other?”

“Who? The only other operator we know in Paris is . . .” She pauses. “Suzanne. The agent you brought in from the drop.”

“Exactly. She’s been training operators, but she can transmit too, can’t she?”

“She can. She’s one of the best. And she has her own wireless, her own codes.” Dancer nods slowly. “It could work. I’ll send the Atlantic Radio Traffic file. You take the U-boat Communication file to Suzanne. We transmit on different frequencies, at different times. Safer that way.”

“I don’t know where she lives though.”

“I do. In the eleventh arrondissement. Rue de la Roquette, number forty-seven, third floor. The knock pattern is the same as the one you use here: three quick, three slow. Tell her I sent you. She’ll know what to do.”

“How do you know where she lives?” Andrée asks, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. After she and Suzanne had returned from Draveil, Andrée had handed her over to an agent from another network, who was placing her in a secure apartment. Andrée was never told where, but somehow Dancer knows.

“I thought you knew I also worked for another network, just like you and your parents do sometimes.”

“And you’ve met Suzanne?”

“Yes, I was taken there to learn how to operate the new wireless.”

“Ah, that makes perfect sense.”

“Andrée, you can trust me.”

Andrée hugs her, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry. I know I can. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No need to be sorry. Now get out of here. I want to prepare the documents while Philippe is at school, hide them and be ready to go tonight.”

Andrée takes the U-boat file, tucks it into her bag. It’s bulky, suspicious, but there’s no other way.

“When will you transmit?”

“After midnight, when there’s less radio traffic to interfere. Tell Suzanne to do the same, but I’ll start at one a.m. She should wait till three. That way, if the Germans detect one transmission, they won’t immediately find the other.”

“Understood.” Andrée moves toward the door, then turns back.

“Be careful. Cat nearly died getting these. Don’t let the risks he took be for nothing.”