Page 32 of Whispers At Dawn
Jack noted how cleverly Lizzie emphasisedlike-minded.
Marguerite lingered. ‘A few of us sometimes meet at Café de Paris and talk about what we’ll do when this damn war is over.’
‘Sounds good. Maybe we’ll drop in and see you there. Would that be alright?’ Lizzie asked.
The impatient customer, dressed in French military uniform, was now puce-faced and clicking his fingers furiously at Marguerite.
‘I must go, before he gives himself a heart attack,’ she said under her breath. ‘But yes, come along around six this evening if you can make it and I’ll introduce you to some interesting people.’
Marguerite hurried away, and Jack and Lizzie’s eyes locked in jubilant victory. They didn’t need words to know exactly what the other was thinking.
Jack lit a cigarette and continued surveying the area casually, as if he was a man of means who didn’t need to be anywhere other than enjoying his morning coffee in the square with his beautiful wife seated opposite him.
Jack laid his hand on Lizzie’s. ‘You’re far too beautiful to go unnoticed. We must take this into account, unless you disguise yourself as a frump, Hannah style?’
Lizzie smiled at the memory of Hannah’s multiple disguises and how she loved to outwit her enemies.
‘Whilst I’m happy you think so, it’s unlikely you’d be married to a frump, so unless you disguise yourself too, it won’t make sense. We’re upper-class relatives of Luc’s, after all.’
‘That’s a good point,’ Jack said, taking another puff of his cigarette and narrowing his eyes.
Lizzie said, ‘I don’t think it’s possible for you to make yourself blend in, even if you tried. Your height, build and looks are too eye-catching, so we’d better use your looks to our advantage.’
‘Is this your way of saying your husband is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?’ The rich timbre of his voice was playful.
‘You’ve got me. That’s exactly what I meant,’ she said, and they were lost in each other as though there were no one else in the world.
That’s how it was for them. Jack knew their being together undercover was their greatest strength, but also their greatest liability. It wasn’t without good reason, intelligence agencies frowned upon agents becoming romantically involved. It made them vulnerable. Lizzie was Jack’s Achilles’ heel, and he knew it, for better or worse.
A man sat at a café across the square, his eyes occasionally straying to the beautiful couple. He rose from his chair and limped past their table without looking at them.
Jack wasn’t as alert as he might be, but he still noticed the man with a pronounced limp. It was nothing unusual though—there were wounded veterans everywhere, so he thought no more about it.
That evening, they excused themselves from joining Luc for dinner, saying they had to go back into town. After a simple meal in their room, they were back in the car, cruising down the hill at breakneck speed. Jack drove and Lizzie enjoyed therefreshing coolness on her skin as she looked out the window at the countryside streaming by. ‘Is that the lavender field we can see from the château?’ Lizzie asked, pointing to the swaying purple stems in the distance.
‘Yes, it’s a lavender farm, if I recall correctly. Perhaps we can have a closer look one day, if you’d like. Most of the lavender farms are in Provence, so it’s special to have one here.’
‘I’d love that,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s mesmerizing.’
The sun was slowly setting over the city, and the surface of the river sparkled, and the stonebridge glittered beneath the glow of fading rays.
Before they exited the car, Jack said, ‘Remember, share only the minimum about us to create rapport and focus on gathering as much intelligence as possible, alerting no one to your special interest in their activities. We can split up if it seems appropriate and work the room separately. That will probably be much more efficient.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, giving him a mock salute. ‘I will obey your orders, Captain.’
Jack belly laughed. ‘Well, that will be a first! I look forward to experiencing this unusual phenomenon.’
He was in mission mode and knew that the slightest slip could reveal their true identity. He had far too much to live for to risk careless errors.
They walked the short distance to the Café de Paris, Lizzie elegant with her hair in a glamorous updo and wearing her raincoat even though there was not a drop of rain on the horizon.
‘There will be a chill in the air in the evening,’ she had told Jack when she slipped it on in their room. ‘It also has my knife in the lining. It doesn’t feel right to go into the city at night without a secret weapon.’
‘I thought I was your secret weapon,’ Jack had said, pulling her against his hard body and kissing her until her pulse raced.
‘You are darling, but Val warned me never to relax my guard, especially when we are together.’
Lizzie was now a fully fledged agent, and she could take care of herself, he realised. Even so, he considered it his job to protect her. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
