My solace from not being dismissed lasts only until I absorb the words, finding nonsense in them. Arie? Parachuted into Europe?

“That…that can’t be right. He was just here several weeks ago. And he’s back safely in the States.” The claim is scarcely out of my mouth when I note that I have no proof of where he is at all. The notion that England was but a stopover leaves me grasping. “You’re certain we’re referring to the same Arie Jansen.”

Crockatt’s tone suggests indulgence. “Quite positive.”

The uniqueness of Arie’s name does make a mix-up improbable, but his role in intelligence, at least to my mind, was supposed to keep him far from the thick of things. “Where exactly was this mission?”

“The sole element of relevance is that the cell’s hideout was blown,” Crockatt says, sidestepping my question. “Most succeeded in fleeing, although barely and not without a fight. One not as fortunate was killed.” He allows me a chance to process, and through the dread of it, the purpose of this meeting strikes with a wallop.

“And what? You think Arie is responsible for this?”

“The morning of the raid, Lieutenant Jansen was scheduled to meet with the group. He was the only person who failed to appear and has been out of contact since.”

I might have laughed at the insinuation if not for my spike of fear. They’re saying he’s missing—that Arie’s missing. I work to keep my voice level. “Obviously something’s happened to him and he needs your help.” How in the blazes has this not occurred to these men? “He could’ve been detained or…or he…” I can’t verbalize the rest, can hardly think it.

“Indeed,” Crockatt says, “that was the original assumption. He has, however, been seen since then alive and well.”

Alive and well. Oh, thank God!

Relief pours through me. Only from the remnants of my defenses do I discern the simplest explanation. “Well, then, that’s it. He must have been tipped off. He just couldn’t warn others in time.” No question, he would have done so if he could.

“A distinct possibility,” Crockatt agrees, “if not for our contact’s report. It seems Lieutenant Jansen has been spotted on several occasions in town but slipped away when approached. Moreover, even through separate channels, he has made no effort to communicate.”

I open my mouth to counter with explanations but come up with nothing rational. I can’t deny that as a whole, the circumstances don’t compute.

“Miss Vos,” Bogart pipes in, “is there anything the lieutenant mentioned that might be telling? Any indication why he would betray his country?”

I shake my head, perplexed at first, then adamant. “No. There’s nothing. He wouldn’t do what you’re saying. He just couldn’t.”