The men in the loft had finished their duties and climbed down the ladder. They had a brief discussion in low tones with Henri before departing. Once the door had closed behind them, Sophie reached under her sweater and pulled out the stacks of forged currency that had been strapped to her waist, dividing it according to the instructions she had been given before they had boarded the bomber.

“Georges is a good man.” The comment came from behind Sophie, and she spun, finding a petite schoolgirl with twin braids and dressed in boy’s clothes watching her. She was leaning against a rough post, a worn canvas satchel strapped across her chest and an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.

No, Sophie realized. Not a schoolgirl at all. Cigarette aside, the steady brown eyes that looked back at her were much too old, cold cynicism where youthful innocence should have been. Sophie had no idea where she’d come from.

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” Sophie replied.

“Hmm.” The girl considered her. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Sophie set the stacks of currency on a rough table.

“Nothing wrong with your type being in places you aren’t supposed to be so long as you don’t get caught,” the girl said. “If you want to live to see the end of this war, you should try to avoid discovery in the future.”

“Noted.”

“Good, you’ve met.” Henri appeared behind the woman, heading toward the far side of the barn where the lantern sat. “Celine, Vivienne. Vivienne, Celine.”

The tiny woman nodded, and Sophie nodded back.

“You can give Vivienne whatever money London has sent,” Henri instructed in that brisk way of his. “She’ll get it where it needs to go. She also gets information and messages where they need to go. She’s in and out of the city twice a week for us.” He continued toward the side of the barn.

Sophie handed three of the piles of forged notes to the courier, and they vanished into her satchel. “I am to meet a woman in Paris.”

“I know,” Vivienne replied. “La Chanteuse.”

“Yes. Is she part of your network?”

“In a way,” Vivienne said.

“Do you trust her?”

Vivienne gave her a hard look. “With my life. I’ve worked with her since this nightmare started.”

“Mmm.”

“I will tell you how to find her. And I will also give you instructions on how to find me should you require. I deliver vegetables on a schedule,” she explained. “To the hotels and restaurants and cafés.”

“I see.”

“Will you require regular radio access to London while you are here?”

“No. Not right away, at least.”

“Do you know how long you will be in Paris?”

“We are to be flown out. This same location, next full moon.”

“I thought there were to be two of you. Where is your partner?”