Chapters (117)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- The Cast of Characters
- CHAPTER ONE
- The Recruits
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- The Missions
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- The Game
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
- HOME
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
- CHAPTER NINETY
- CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
- CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
- CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
- CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
- CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
- CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
- CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
- CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Reading Group Guide
- Discussion Questions
- A Conversation with Leila Meacham
- ALSO BY LEILA MEACHAM
The car drew before the door of its destination. Derrick saw a prick of light in the far reach of the school salle. Mademoiselle had arrived. Monsieur Vogel, the director, was visiting his daughter today and would not be with them this Sunday, so they would fence without a referee and chaperone. Derrick took hold of his fencing bag, leaving Karl to read behind the wheel of the staff car, and stepped through the unlocked entrance of the school. Off to the right, the basement door stood ajar, and he could hear voices coming from below that he recognized as Mademoiselle Colbert’s and a man’s, too young to belong to the janitor. The man was speaking broken French in a harsh tone. Then came a bellow of anguish. Derrick dropped his bag and rushed for the basement door.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Victoria had arrived at the salle early. Her apartment held no inducements for sleeping late and doing the usual domestic chores reserved for Sundays. The hotel’s meager coal ration was barely enough to warm half her bedroom. There was no hot water or soap for washing her clothes, no tea and little food in the larder. The residence hotel had once boasted a small, high-scale restaurant that had closed permanently the week she moved in. The mostly elderly residents were now forced to eat their meals out, a difficult situation to manage in inclement weather, or to cook their scarce food in their apartments’ small galley kitchens. Her neighbors’ black market sources had dried up, and Victoria worried that the old dears found themselves in her set of circumstances this morning, cold to their knickers and feeling the dull ache of hunger.
She’d also awakened feeling brutalized by nightmares of capture and torture interspersed with equally cruel dreams of happy bygone Thanksgiving holidays celebrated in the security and bounty of family. She could still taste their old cook’s turkey and pumpkin pie, see her father ceremonially sharpening the carving knife and Lawrence pouring the wine. She’d needed warmth and a place to shake free of the dreams, and the boiler room in the basement of L’Ecole d’Escrime Français offered both. For use by the staff, the room came equipped with a washroom, hot water, and soap and a line for hanging laundry to dry in the heat. Along with her weekly wear, a set of her whites needed washing, and while there, she’d carry down the school’s swords to sand off the rust they’d collected when their protective coatings wore off.