“Very good, sir. I shall serve roast beef with potatoes, brussels sprouts, and much gravy. That should fill Herr Bauer’s stomach. And…Herr Wagner as well?” Hans suggested, a note of hope in his voice.

“Of course. Let’s invite him, too. Why not?”

“The young master will be very pleased. I will tell him when I take up a plate.”

Konrad’s heartfelt desire was that he, too, would be pleased at the end of the evening tomorrow night, for he intended to set a trap for Herr Bauer that would establish beyond all doubt the tutor’s innocence or guilt.

*  *  *

Sunday afternoons Brad spent tying flies and repairing and cleaning the parts of fishing rods for Captain Allard’s customers. It enabled him to pick up extra money that he’d not have to add to the stash provided by the OSS, should there be enough left to turn in at war’s end. Once it was all over, he hoped to convert his French francs to dollars to set aside for the kids’ college funds. By “kids,” he meant Bobby and Margie. By the time he made it home, Bobby would be college age, and he couldn’t expect Jared Cramer, his mother’s new husband, to pick up the tab for his adopted siblings. Beata, yes. As Joanna’s daughter, she now belonged to Jared Cramer as part of his family, but the others…they were his responsibility.

He tried not to think too much about his home and family, the glory of the White River at the end of fall before the mountains slept beneath their snow caps and the rainbows settled down in their winter habitats. That was fruitless thinking. There was critical work specific to his assignment to be done here in Paris, and he was the only one in place to do it. It was essential to keep his pole in the water while the fishing was good. Rumors were flying about an Allied invasion coming by way of the coast, and that had made the captain’s customers nervous and edgy. They’d become careless about dropping classified secrets before a German fishing guide, one of their own countrymen, who gave no mind to anything but his fish business. Friday, he’d heard of a shipment of tungsten coming from Spain headed for a Nazi weapons manufacturing plant, but he had not yet learned the name of the ship or port where it would be unloaded. With more time, he believed he could wheedle the information out of the man who’d been hired to guide the ship into harbor. Tungsten was essential for the manufacture of military arms, and the delivery would be the perfect target for the French Resistance or RAF.