“The report claims that it is enclosed in a renovated space within close proximity to Göring’s suite, which suggests that it might have been relayed by a hotel employee. Though to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how believable that is. It will be up to you to determine where it might be as, no matter the briefings or my opinions, it’s possible that the cipher machine may have been moved since then. You will be provided with blueprints of the hotel with the area in question marked and a dossier on whatever details we have on the current residents, including Göring.” Miss Atkins slid Sophie’s file to the side, revealing a second folder beneath. “You will travel to Paris with your husband, to quietly offer quality cosmetics to the very wealthy French and German women who patronize the Ritz or call the hotel home.”

“Madame and Monsieur Beaufort.” Sophie’s training suddenly made perfect sense.

“Yes. The cover that was given to you—that you’ve already established during your training—will be the cover you use in France. Shortly, you will meet the agent posing as your husband, who has established the same cover story. His code name is Tempo, and like you, he has been selected from amongst the recruits for his command of both French and German, the competency he has proven in his field training, and, most importantly, his familiarity with the Ritz Hotel. His mother was French and used to work as a chambermaid at the Ritz. He grew up in and around the hotel and is intimately familiar with it.”

Sophie considered that. “Is it possible that he may be recognized?”

“A valid question. We feel comfortable with the time that has elapsed. He was last there as an adolescent, though we’ve taken no chances. You’ll see for yourself shortly. The agent is currently with Colonel Buckmaster receiving his own instruction, and once they’re finished, they will join us so you can both be briefed on your shared mission.” She leaned forward, cigarette smoke curling around her head. “There are other matters to discuss before they arrive, however.”

“Which are?”

“Communication to your family and the matter of your pay.” Miss Atkins put up a hand before Sophie could speak. “I am aware of the circumstances surrounding your family. Normally, when I have an agent in the field, I send brief, periodic letters to that agent’s parents or relation, assuring them that their daughter is doing well in her supposed FANY service. To keep morale up at home, you understand.”

Sophie looked down and clasped her hands neatly in her lap. “Of course.”

“Is there anyone else to whom you might wish me to send correspondence? Extended family perhaps? A friend?”