Bouncing Betty Liliana Hart (best sales books of all time TXT) 📖

the silk of her dressing gown caught the flicker of candlelight from the oil lamp beside her. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, and then exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

“Well?” she asked, arching a brow.

“He was a perfect gentleman,” I said, running a hand down the side of my waist and resting it on my hip. Unlike Esther, I had curves to spare and I used them to my advantage. “But I haven’t put on the full charm yet. He wanted to assure me that the people of Marseille wouldn’t be harmed as long as they comply, but that anyone housing refugees would be punished severely. He hinted at the experiments Dr. Meissner was conducting, but he didn’t specify who they’d selected.”

“Intelligence tells us that they’ve taken the entire Cordier family. Their home was raided on the night of the twelfth, and there is no record they were taken to any of the camps. And no bodies have been found. The Cordiers have two sets of twins. A set of boys and a set of girls. Meissner would find that fascinating, though we don’t expect him to keep the parents alive. If they still are it would be a miracle, but we hope to be able to save the children. The Cordiers are a prominent family, politically connected, but someone turned them in to the Gestapo for helping Jews and other refugees escape. They were smuggling them out on their ships.”

I felt the bubble of anger I had to keep tamped down at the injustices I’d seen and heard about over the last couple of months. We were so removed from life back home, and I was ashamed how ignorant I’d been. But the rage had a permanent home inside me now, and I worked hard to keep it leashed. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if it ever broke free.

“Wagner spoke of the internment camp we’ve been looking for,” I told her.

Esther sat forward in her chair, her attention caught. “Did he tell you where?”

“On the border, outside of Vitrolles. It’s small, so they’re moving them out to the larger camps as quickly as they can get the trains to run. Most of them go to Bergen-Belsen and then are shipped out again.

“I knew it!” she said, stamping out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table. “What about the British Intelligence officers they captured?”

“He was happy to mention them,” I said. “He said it’s his mission to smoke out every traitor. There’s a train leaving in two days. Our men are meant to be on it.”

“You’ll need to be debriefed first thing in the morning,” she said, coming to her feet. “We must get those men out of France and back home. Did Wagner suspect you? What did you tell him?”

“The truth,” I said, smiling coyly. “That I’m American and my father sent me to France to live with a friend so I could search for a husband. I let him know the position was still open while I fiddled with the top button of my dress.”

“Men are so easy,” she said.

“He wants to see me again,” I said. “He might have people watching the house.”

She waved her hand. “I would be surprised if he didn’t. We can handle it. And everyone in the Alliance uses the secret entrance anyway. We’re well protected here. Sleep tonight. You’ve earned it.”

I wanted to ask about Henry Graham. Whether there had been any word about him. Whether or not Wagner’s men had beaten him to within an inch of his life or sent him to the internment camp to wait for death with the others. But I stayed silent.

There were times this strange world seemed like a game. A game I was good at and one I couldn’t possibly lose. I’d felt invincible from the start—untouchable—as if the stories I’d heard about others in the Alliance being captured and killed were mere fairy tales. But in the blink of an eye, I realized that it was real lives on the line and real consequences for stupid actions. Graham had only been a legend in my mind, someone I’d seen from a distance a time or two. But it was his blood on my hands after today.

I bid Esther good night and promised to be up and ready in the morning. My head was spinning with the information Wagner had inadvertently leaked while we were sipping wine and flirting over dinner. I wouldn’t forget it. I never forgot anything. And maybe what I’d learned tonight would save lives and make up for the one I’d potentially lost today.

By the time I reached the third-floor landing exhaustion hit. The sconces were dimmed in the hallway so I could see myself to my room. I had the third floor to myself, and I’d had to practically threaten Margueritte to get her to leave me in peace in the evenings. I’d been dressing and undressing myself for a long time and didn’t need the help now. I wasn’t sure if I hurt her feelings or not, but she’d left me to my peace and still left chocolates on my dresser, so I figured she wasn’t too mad.

I pushed open the door to my room and breathed in the fresh scent of lilacs and baby powder. The room was large and would be drafty without the thick blue carpet and matching velvet drapes. There was a marble fireplace at the opposite end from the bed, but there was no need for a fire at this time of year, though the nights were much cooler than I was used to. I had my own bathroom and tub, and I planned to make full use of it before I met with anyone in the morning.

There was a single oil lamp on the nightstand, dimmed so only a flicker of light showed. I tossed my wrap over the back of a chair and started undoing the buttons on my dress, stopping to take the combs out of