Of course, that meant he’d also know how long it was likely to be before anything came of it. Before they could use the decrepit ship, they first had to repair it.

Thoroton leaned out of the way with a smile when the waiter reappeared with two plates heaping with spiced sausage and rice. “I’ve been on the hunt for a collection of Victor Hugo’s poetry in the original French. Do you think that little shop you frequent may have one?”

Which was to say, there was new information waiting for Drake in one of their usual drop locations—a used and foreign bookshop whose proprietor was sympathetic to the Allies. They never liked to risk handing over too much information at one time. If anyone were to waylay one or the other of them, that would mean too much could be compromised.

Drake thanked the waiter and picked up his fork, nodding as if in thought. “It’s quite possible. I’ll run in and check for you before they close this evening, shall I? Are you staying in Bilbao tonight?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll be catching the evening train to San Sebastián.” Thoroton scooped up a bite of his food and tasted it, grinning in appreciation. “Ah, perfect. An excellent recommendation.”

While they ate, they talked in a mixture of Spanish and English about the war and mutual acquaintances, like every other patron here. Nothing that wasn’t already in the newspapers, nothing Drake had to take particular note of.

There was no lingering after they’d finished their meal. In different circumstances, Drake would have considered Charles the Bold a friend—but when they met, it was for a specific purpose. Now that said purpose had been fulfilled, Thoroton dashed off to catch his train, and Drake ambled along to the bookshop.

The bell jangled over the door when he entered, and the smell of paper and ink and must greeted him, along with a grunt of acknowledgment from the proprietor, who didn’t even look up from the copy of La Chartreuse de Parme in his hands. He just held up a finger that said, Let me finish my paragraph, without any need for words.

“No hurry, Mateo.” Drake smiled and turned into an aisle of bookcases. He would leave with more than just the Hugo that would be hidden behind a dusty tome written in Icelandic—not exactly a book in high demand, which made it a perfect cover. First he’d find a few books in similar taste.