Sophie looked away, though she could still feel the weight of the woman’s sharp grey-blue eyes. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because I like to know the motivations of the women I send behind enemy lines. Some risk everything to fight for their country, some fight for their principles, others fight for those close to them. And there are always a few who simply fight because they are good at it.” She paused. “There are no right and wrong reasons for fighting, Celine. It is my job not to judge, but to understand, and make sure that those reasons do not become a liability. And your motives are still a mystery.”

Sophie gazed out the window. A sparrow had landed on the sill outside. “You think I am fighting for revenge?”

“Are you?”

“Maybe I am.”

“How did he die, Celine?”

“German guns.”

“How do you know?”

The old familiar feeling of loss and powerlessness made her muscles go rigid.

“I was there.” The sparrow startled and flew away. “And I am alive because he isn’t.”

Miss Atkins remained silent.

“And after he died and before I could make it home, German bombs killed my parents and German planes shot down my brother.” Sophie returned her gaze to the woman who remained motionless across from her. “All sacrifices that I will not let go unanswered. That will not be forgotten.”

Miss Atkins picked up another cigarette but made no move to light it. “I am told you almost killed the interrogator dressed as a Gestapo officer during training.”

“I thought it was part of the exercise. And he came nowhere close to dying. Trust me.”

The spymaster sat back and rolled her cigarette between her fingers. “I do.”

“So my answers do not change anything? My motives?”

“I think that they are what make you dangerous. And I think that they are what will make you successful. But remember this. From the moment you set foot in France, you are not fighting the Nazis. Your job is to find intelligence and information that will help all of us fight the Germans and bring it back. Do you understand the difference?”

Sophie blinked.

“You will need to befriend your enemy, earn their trust, learn their secrets. Only then will the sacrifices you speak of not be in vain. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Miss Atkins returned the unlit cigarette to the desk. “Do you have a will?” she asked briskly, and the abrupt change in topic momentarily threw Sophie.

“No.” She shook her head. “I own nothing of value other than that ring and whatever pay I earn.”

“Very well.”

“I have this though.” Sophie withdrew a small, sealed letter from her handbag and placed it on the desk.

“What is that?”

“A letter to my brother,” she said. “In case I don’t come back and he does.”