Sitting at the table, Ollie bit into the hardened bread and almost cracked a tooth. He looked at Boar, gnawing on his hunk of crust, like a dog chewing rawhide.

“Tremper.” Madeleine shook her head, then dunked her bread into her coffee.

Ollie followed suit and sank his bread into the yellow mixture, a coffee brewed from what he believed to be roasted barley. The bread softened nicely but tasted like ground straw. He washed it down with the coffee, polluted with bits of gray matter. Despite the taste and texture of the bread, it felt good to have something warm in his belly. Sleeping on the ground had lowered his body temperature. He felt like a reptile in desperate need of the sun.

“Well,” Madeleine said, lighting another cigarette. “What shall we do with you?”

“As soon as I can see, we’ll leave,” Boar said. He gulped his coffee, then set the cup on the table. “In the meantime, we’ll get word to the RAF on where we are, assuming that bloody bird can fly across the Channel.”

Ollie looked up from his empty cup and saw Madeleine staring at him. His mind raced. Did Duchess make it home to Susan? Would Boar shoot me for releasing the pigeon? Ollie gripped the table and said, “About the pigeon—”

“Would you like more coffee, Flight Lieutenant?” Madeleine interrupted.

Boar nodded.

Ollie appreciated Madeleine’s attempt to delay the fact that he had released Duchess. But sooner or later, he’d have to tell the lieutenant. And when he did, he’d likely have hell to pay.

“Where will you go?” Madeleine asked, refilling Boar’s cup. She placed the pot in the center of the table. Steam rose from the spout.

“I’ll figure it out.” Boar sipped his coffee.

Ollie looked at the lieutenant. In the air, Boar had no doubt been a fearless flying ace. But now he was grounded, without a squadron to lead into battle and, for the moment, blind. Strangely, the battered pilot appeared both formidable and harmless, like a king cobra with its fangs clipped.

“The only unoccupied area is zone libre, far to the south,” Madeleine said. “Unless you plan to steal a plane or swim the Channel.”

“Then we’ll go to zone libre,” Ollie said.

Boar rubbed the edge of his cup with his thumb. “Who’s going to help us get there, the French Army?” He looked in Ollie’s direction. “In case you haven’t heard, they’ve been wiped out.”

Ollie glanced at Madeleine. The woman’s shoulders slumped. Her eyes turned glossy. Ollie’s face turned hot. Before he could stop himself, he reached over the table and grabbed the lieutenant’s jacket.

Boar jerked, but Ollie’s grip held firm.

“Madeleine lost her sons in this war.” Ollie loosened his grip, then lowered his hand. “And her husband has been missing since the invasion.”