Bucky sat down on the park bench and pressed the heels of his palms to his temples. The rush of blood to his head had made him dizzy. Because of his stupid carelessness, Dirk Drechsler now knew of his connection to Nicholas Cravois and possibly of his association with Liverwort and—oh God—the guy’s hometown buddy, Lapwing! What was he to do now? Split and run while he had the chance? He was as brave and tough as the next man, but as the major had warned them many times, nobody held out under torture. If he broke, they’d set a trap for his father at the hole in the tree and for Dragonfly at the mailbox. They’d arrest Madame Dupree…

But wait a minute! He must think. It was now November 4. His trip to Honfleur had occurred Sunday, October 11, three and a half weeks before, about the time Dirk had taken a special interest in him. Bucky now understood why. At least that mystery was solved, but the puzzle he couldn’t work out was the sergeant’s motive for keeping the information to himself. The capture of Nicholas Cravois would have promoted him to general. Drechsler could have hurried back to Paris from Honfleur and reported his findings immediately, but he clearly had not. Even when Liverwort had shown up at the boardinghouse the following Sunday and added to his suspicions, he’d still not shown his hand. But why? Bucky wished he could talk to Lapwing about it, help him get a read on his confounding childhood friend.

Bucky got up to stamp feeling back into his numb feet and started to walk. Walking helped him to think. The pressure in his head relented. Ever since that Sunday, he had felt Drechsler wanted something from him and was only waiting for the right moment to spring it on him. He had an airtight case for Bucky’s arrest if he’d followed him to the café, but the turncoat had kept his silence, so he wouldn’t split just yet, or report his discoveries and suspicions to the major. Major Renault would pull him and the others out for sure, no discussion about it. Bucky would go back to the boardinghouse and take a chance that his and his teammates’ perception of Dirk Drechsler was right on the money. The guy hated the people and the job he’d signed on to and wasn’t about to interfere with the factions that could bring them down. He was desperate for an end to the war so that he could go home, the sooner the better. The sergeant might even be turned to work for the OSS, a mole right under the Abwehr’s noses. Whatever was at stake, Bucky would keep the L pill within reach of a quick swallow. For the sake of his father and the team, he wouldn’t be taken alive.

*  *  *