At the sound of her code name, a sudden, unexpected relief flooded through her, making her almost giddy. Relief that she had survived the jump, relief that she was where she needed to be, relief that she was not alone.

“Thought there was supposed to be two of you,” Henri said.

“There was. Is. He jumped too soon.”

“Did you see where?”

“To the east.” Sophie repeated what the bomber’s crewman had told her.

A low curse was uttered. “Your parachute?”

“In the trees under a bush along the field.”

“I’ll send someone to fetch it. Follow me.”

Sophie followed Henri as they crossed the farmyard with its empty paddocks. The carcass of an ancient tractor had been abandoned in the center of the yard, and even in the dim light, its plundered innards were visible where they spilled out onto the ground. As they drew close to the barn, Sophie could now see the faintest line of light coming from beneath the wide door.

Her guide lifted the latch, pulled it open, and ushered Sophie inside. The door closed behind them silently on well-oiled hinges. Sophie blinked in the low lantern light and looked around. The barn was devoid of livestock, its windows boarded up, the floor littered with dusty straw. A sturdy ladder led up into the hayloft, where two men were winching a cylinder that had been in the plane with Sophie up into the darkness.

“You got them all?” Henri pushed past her to address the two workers.

In the light, Sophie could now see that Henri was no more than thirty, with curly brown hair escaping at the edges of a cloth cap pulled firmly down over his forehead. He had dark, intelligent eyes set into a broad face and was dressed in the rough clothes of a labourer or farmer, his coat patched at the elbows and collar. He moved with the ease and efficiency of an athlete, his questions clipped but not rude.

“Last one,” the taller of the two men told him, glancing at Sophie. “Explosives are at the rear, away from the guns and ammunition.”

“Good.”

“Her things are down there.” The man gestured to the side of the barn where the light didn’t reach.

He did not introduce himself. Sophie likewise volunteered nothing.

Henri turned back to Sophie. “You can take your coveralls off here. We’ll get rid of what you don’t need.”

Sophie nodded and extracted a packet of papers from the deep pocket of her coveralls, her identification and ration books all wrapped securely in oilskin. She set the papers aside and shrugged out of the heavy coveralls, balling them up into a tight bundle.