Konrad was genuinely surprised. He’d thought the boys had simply recognized each other as Americans and learned they were working for the same outfit after being sent to gather intelligence on their own, Barnard on his fishing boat, Claus in his schoolroom. This he explained to Derrick, adding in disbelief as he rubbed his forehead, “Gott! How could I have thought it simply a stroke of good luck that their paths crossed mine?”

“Don’t feel bad, Konrad. I was blinded, too. Mademoiselle Veronique Colbert is one of them, part of the same cell. She is an American, also. Her name is Victoria Grayson from Williamsburg, Virginia.”

Konrad’s jaw dropped.

“Yes,” Derrick confirmed. “I have known of her nationality since the beginning, but not that she was a spy. I made the discovery quite by accident, the night of the premiere, and I have been using her to channel information to her OSS sources, as you have Herr Wagner and Herr Bauer.”

“And you didn’t tell me!” Konrad accused.

“Come now, General. You know why I couldn’t risk your being in possession of that knowledge any more than you could chance telling me that your friends were Americans and your son’s tutor was also a spy.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Konrad said, mollified. “I quite understand. Do please go on.”

“The third young man I know little about. His cover name is Stephane Beaulieu, an engineer employed at the Barousse Consulting Firm of Civil Engineers near the Eiffel Tower, also an American. I suspect that a fifth member is involved—the artist responsible for drawing a mural on the wall of a convent located in the Latin Quarter. The wall is next to a house with a mail depository in the door that serves as their dead-letter box. I believe the mural to be a medium for communicating in code.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’ve had the cell under surveillance for some time,” Derrick said and gave him a short briefing on how he’d come by his discoveries. “I didn’t know who your young friends were until I saw their names on their identity papers,” he concluded.

“Why did Major Schultz call you?”

Derrick blew out a final stream of smoke and crushed the butt of the Chesterfield in a tobacco tray on his desk. “Because the major knew that Mademoiselle Colbert and I are well acquainted.”

“Of course,” Konrad said, understanding perfectly. “And you’ve got them all in the van? We’re to put the Nacht and Nebel plan into place?”

“With one exception. Mademoiselle Colbert is to be executed.”

Konrad’s ruddy skin tone whitened to the shade of a boiled potato. “My God, Derrick, why?”