Sophie looked toward the window. The blackout coverings had been pulled to the side to allow the early morning sun to stream through. An empty cut-crystal tumbler had been left on the sill, and tiny rainbows were scattered across the polished floor. “I am not fearless,” Sophie said slowly. “I feel fear like anyone else. But embracing that sort of emotion does nothing but cloud judgement and make otherwise intelligent people make stupid decisions.” She lifted her chin and returned her gaze to the woman across the desk. “I set out to prove that I can be far more useful somewhere other than behind a desk at Bletchley Park. I hope I have done so.”

“Ah, yes. Back to Bletchley.” Miss Atkins reached for her cigarettes and took her time selecting one before looking back up at Sophie. “Exactly how much do you know about the coded messages that you translated there?”

Sophie smoothed her skirt over her legs. Miss Atkins did not ask aimless questions. She considered her answer carefully.

“There was very little information shared. No one talked much about what they did at Bletchley. My duty was to translate only. I don’t know a lot.”

“But you know some.”

“I know that the Germans keep changing the cipher somehow. I know that whatever we were using earlier doesn’t decode more recent messages or, at the very least, doesn’t decode them fast enough. I know that since last year, Nazi U-boats and troops and tanks are once again invisible. Until they’re not.”