Enemy wasn’t the right word for Margot De Wilde. Adversary. That was it. Or opponent, perhaps. Enemy implied hatred, and he had no such feelings for the Belgian girl. No, hatred was too powerful a force to spread out to just anyone on the wrong side of this war. He would reserve his for those who truly deserved it.

Though night and distance shrouded it from his sight, Das Gespenst turned to face the Admiralty’s Old Building. He had an enemy. But it wasn’t Margot De Wilde. She would be a fine conduit, though, to the one who was. She kept odd hours, the same as some of the men. None of the other secretaries did. She must be trusted indeed, if her hours had to match her boss’s. Valuable to them.

Perfect for him.

Tucking the board under his arm and clearing a tickle from his throat, he put a foot on the path that would take him out of the park. A whistle came from his lips once he gained the street—just an average Englishman, making his way home. That’s all he was.

No one looked twice at him as he moved to his building. He drew the key from his pocket, paused for a moment to collect the post from the little box that said John Williams, and flipped through it as he jogged up the stairs. Just an average Englishman going home for the night.

19

Drake squeezed his eyes closed for a minute, leaning back his head and stretching a bit. He’d been reading for hours, and both eyes and side demanded a break from it. But he still had a mountain of files to read through.

How the devil did Hall compile so much data? They read every single letter that left England by post. Every telegram that was sent wirelessly was intercepted—which was pretty much every telegram that had to leave its own country, given that cutting the underwater wires had been the first move when war was declared back in 1914. Agents all over the world were reporting once a week.

An answer to every question seemed to be at Hall’s fingertips. The problem, of course, was finding said answer among so much chaff. The sheer volume of information . . . well, Drake had no idea how many people were currently employed as he was, doing nothing but reading over it all. But even if it were hundreds, they weren’t likely to get through it in any kind of reasonable time.

He rubbed at his neck and then pushed himself to his feet. Time for a turn around the flat. Get the blood flowing again and convince his muscles to strengthen. It took him a long moment to straighten and stand, but it was faster than he could do it last week. He was improving. If he didn’t have any setbacks, he might even be able to join his sister at church on Sunday.