He couldn’t stop the surprised yelp of a laugh, which was loud, definitely loud enough to give them away.

“That you, Sir?” Jennings’ voice was close, just around the corner.

Dan ripped himself away and walked back in the direction of the party, while Jess waited for a few seconds, long enough to hear Jennings’ voice say, “You all right, Sir? You look flushed,” at which she grinned, but then sobered up, realizing there was another man in the hallway now.

He lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Jess’s direction.

Warren Stone. How much had he seen?

He answered her unspoken question.

“Last time,” he drawled, “I accused you of sleeping with the Lieutenant Colonel, you made me look like a fool. But who’s the fool now? Won’t you hate it, now the press camp has mostly forgiven you for being a woman, if they find out you really have parlayed your sexual favors to get every single one of your pictures and your stories?”

What could she say? Because of the way the system worked, some women—Martha, Iris, Lee, perhaps herself—were able to transmit more newsworthy stories than the other women as their relationships came with a side-serve of access. But that wasn’t why they had those relationships. If she’d had something to throw at Warren, she would. But besides praying that his cigarette butt might catch alight and singe his always polished shoes, Jess had no ammunition.

He handed her a sheet of paper. She took it from him reluctantly before she realized it was hers, that it was a page of notes she’d transcribed from the conversation she’d had with Marie-Laure and her mother. “Where did you get this?” she asked coldly.

“When the table was cleared for the party, this ended up on the floor,” Warren replied. “Lucky I found it. I didn’t realize you were so interested in rape.”

Jess shivered. She wanted to walk away but turning her back on Warren Stone right now took more courage than she possessed.

Thank God for Marty, who must have spotted Warren heading the same way as Jess and Dan and come to warn her. “Your drink’s getting warm,” she said to Jess when she came upon her. Then she rounded on Warren. “For God’s sake, leave her alone. The war’s nearly over. You won’t have to look at her for much longer. Or maybe that’s the problem?”

“Let’s just go,” Jess said to Martha, not wanting to hear what Warren might say in reply.

* * *

The day after the party, desperate to get out of the press camp and away from Warren, Jess went looking for a story. She drove to the outskirts of the city, where she met a young woman who rent her heart a little more. Jess had stopped to refill her water canteen at the woman’s house, which the woman allowed, but she was most insistent that Jess not have anything more.

“I have a special pass,” the woman said in German. “I have already provided food and shelter to the American soldiers and they gave me a pass to prove I have done what I needed to. They said I should show it to other soldiers who stop here.”