“For heaven’s sake, man. If I decide to sack you, you won’t have to ask. In the meantime, get to work.” He strode to the door, yanked the door open, and barked at the secretary, “The moment Pearce shows up, I want to see him. No joking with anyone, no dillydallying outside with V, nothing. Am I clear?”

Zivon vacated the office and hurried to his desk. But he didn’t find the admiral’s reaction encouraging. Hall was alarmed at the news that someone else had been about the task he’d assigned Mr. Pearce.

Which meant that Zivon had more enemies in London than his superior had thought.

Lily stared at the photo on the drying rack, not quite able to believe what her eyes told her. The roll of film—one of the ones she’d brought home yesterday—had come from an agent on the Continent, she knew. Strictly routine work, which was why she’d decided to do it this morning after Mama had refused to so much as look at her over the breakfast table.

She couldn’t decide which was worse: the silence she was being greeted with, or the shouting that she’d heard between her parents for an hour after she’d gone to bed. She couldn’t ever recall her parents arguing like that. And because of her.

She’d thought this familiar, thoughtless work would soothe her. Help her forget all the questions the night had raised, all the uncertainty. All the wondering about whether this job of hers that had caused such strife between her parents was really worthwhile.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Though it had been over five years since she’d seen her childhood friend, she had no difficulty recognizing Johanna’s lovely face. Her blond hair was coiffed to perfection, her blue eyes—grey in the photo, of course—smiling.

Smiling at a man in a German uniform, whose arm her hand was tucked into.

They were one of half a dozen couples caught in the image, at some sort of event in Berlin. Lily had no idea what it was. She didn’t need to. All she needed to know was that it was Johanna, in Germany, looking happy on the arm of a soldier. Proving even from hundreds of miles away that nothing was simple, and that Lily’s judgment couldn’t be trusted.

She gathered the photos from the two rolls she’d finished and slid them into her bag, along with the undeveloped film. It would be lunchtime at the OB, which meant she wouldn’t likely run into anyone she knew.

Just as she wanted it. She couldn’t bear to look at any of them right now. Not given the note she’d written upon rising that morning, telling the admiral of her intent to resign.