Chapter 2
The Team
Ben
THE SMELL OF coffee permeates the empty room, pulling me from the fitful sleep I’d struggled in and out of all night long.
Rolling onto my side with a grunt, I take stock of the bedroom.
Bags lie packed by the door, my pistol sits in its holster on the bedside table, and the space beside me is empty.
Closing my eyes to the mistakes I don’t have time to address, I try to listen for Lillian down the hall instead, but there’s nothing.
I hadn’t even thought to ask how she was last night.
Traveling back to England usually causes her some discomfort, and I can’t imagine what she is feeling, all things considered.
Everything devolved so quickly last night; I’d found myself banished before I could speak to her about her feelings.
Her father’s return to this world of espionage and secrets was not something I had expected, and I’m sure Lillian was equally surprised.
Archibald has been on her list forever. Mr. Morgan and his little spies have done well to keep tabs on him.
Still, even with his continued relationship with Ivo Sh?fer, no one expected him to want to return to that godforsaken continent.
The very same place he had lost his wife and daughter.
Swallowing the horrible memories of that night we lost Isadora, I glance out the window and try to match the sun’s disposition.
Unfortunately for me, a door slams down the hall and all my immediate thoughts return to Lillian.
Wanting to join her before any decisions are made amongst the group that will be gathering downstairs, I throw on yesterday’s discarded clothes and stuff my feet into a pair of clean socks. I barely have the third button of my shirt done when I open the door.
Lillian stands before me, fist raised as if to knock. She lowers it timidly before speaking, just as unsure. “Everyone’s here.”
Leaning against the door frame to bolster myself, I try to reassure her with a nod. “You’ve been down?”
“No,” she says, a hint of her accent slipping through.
We’ve been drilled with linguistics and dialects to aid us in our espionage over the years, but she hasn’t slipped back into her brilliant blend of her parents' accents in ages.
She must realize how she sounded because she clears her throat and continues on with impeccable English with an accent fit for a royal. “No, I wanted to wait for you.”
Recognizing the olive branch, I reach forward and rest a calloused palm against her cheek. A shared understanding of forgiveness and trust passes between us before I take up her hand in mine and the two of us take the first step toward the future.
After so long of spinning wheels and what ifs, the time has finally come to act.
My fingers instinctively curl tighter around Lillian’s the further we descend.
These people that Mr. Morgan insists upon sending with us have been in and out of our lives by name only, except for Diederick Koch of course.
He has been a staple of our lives here, as well as our secret one in Germany.
Though, I’m surprised he did not rise to greet us in the night as he has his own room on the main floor.
I suppose he’ll be all too eager to meet the rest of the team, his team.
It seems that Lillian and I are the last to arrive.
As Mr. X opens the door to the parlor, we are met with staring eyes.
China clinks as tea cups are lowered, and as if tethered to a string, all those in the room rise to greet us—all except the woman sitting in the corner.
My gaze instinctively falls to the greatest threat in the room, a man by the mantle.
He’s clearly armed underneath his jacket, and the eyes that look back at me are equally as hard as mine.
He dips his chin in acknowledgement, but his observations continue.
Mr. X clears his throat and is quick to step around Lillian and me.
“Mr. Morgan, of course, had early business in London. He has taken the early train and has left this…debrief.” He clears his throat again.
I’ve never known Mr. X to be the nervous type, but I know this sudden development to be out of care of Lillian and her disposition.
“You have all been carefully selected by Mr. Morgan, as well as by the crown and country. On behalf of Mr. Morgan, I wish to invite you to introduce yourselves to Lillian and Ben, as I know you have already gone through the process with Mr. Koch.”
My instincts flare knowing that Lillian and I have been left out of the final decision-making.
Though Mr. Morgan has been nothing but good to us, there are times when the motivations of a man in his standing, no matter how friendly, must be questioned.
I have always taken the safety of Lillian and her history very seriously; that will not stop today.
The man from the mantle is the first to approach. Fixing his cufflinks as he steps forward, I can instantly tell he is meant to provide us with more muscle.
He extends a strong hand, and when I take it, the suave nature of the man overtakes me. Lillian blushes when he takes her hand next. “James Ward, at your service,” he says in a deep voice with an accent reserved for the highest of respected individuals in this country.
“What–” Lillian stumbles over herself as she lets go of the man’s hand, clearly enamored. “Yes, I remember your file. What is your experience exactly? Much of the paperwork I had access to had redacted sections.”
The man’s lips tilt up as he answers, “British intelligence, ma’am. I’m proud to say I’ve worked under Winston Churchill for several years now.”
As the shock of hearing the Churchill name fades, I realize that Lillian is still ogling James and his freshly tailored suit. “Are you sure he can spare you?” I ask, wanting to know the man’s tell.
He merely tilts his head to the side and laughs slightly. “No, I don’t suppose he can, but he’s going to.”
Sensing some tension, Mr. X sucks in a breath before recovering with more information. “Mr. Ward has been assigned to accompany you, of course, but also to be an assistant to Mr. Charles Bennett.”
I don’t miss the slightest waver of the agent’s stoic facade at the mention of his ward.
“I know that name,” Lillian proclaims from beside me. She looks rather puzzled, even when Mr. X explains further.
“Yes, Mr. Bennett is a known name in Parliament. He is going on behalf of the Prime Minister. He will be joining you all at port tomorrow, though I doubt you will see him until you arrive in Brazil, low profile and all that.” Even though any thought of a government official along on our journey is not what I had hoped for, I had nevertheless expected it.
Glancing to my left, I try to gauge Lillian’s reaction, but she shows no sign of disagreement.
If anything, she still looks confused, as if the name sounded familiar to her for a much different reason.
“Well, I’ve never been one to let an awkward moment go on a moment longer than necessary.” The woman who had not bothered to rise from the chair earlier finally places her saucer to the side and makes a show out of rising to meet us.
She greets Lillian first. “Margaret Williams,” she states.
Holding herself with poise, Ms. Williams stands nearly level with me.
As she leans forward to peck Lillian on both cheeks, the bright red of her lipstick subtly brushes against her skin.
“You were a great inspiration to me at Oxford,” she says with a knowing smile.
“You studied at Oxford?” Lillian asks, absentmindedly trying to tame her curls.
The woman towering over her has waves of blonde hair practically drenched in sensuality.
Lillian has always been a bit shy in regards to her beauty.
Still, to see her behave in this reserved way has me wanting to shake some sense into her.
“Ms. Williams has studied at institutions across the globe,” Diederick chimes in. “She will be acting as your linguist.”
“Why should we need a linguist? Lillian knows the languages we’re to encounter.” All eyes look to me, silently asking why I would already be questioning a team member.
For the first time, Margaret gives me her attention. Turning to me, she gives me a shy smile and extends her hand. She does not offer me the same pecks of her bright lips she afforded Lillian. “I say this in respect to you and Lillian, but you’ve been spending a lot of your time in Germany.”
My eyes fling toward Mr. X. Our work out of the country was meant to be kept in this house.
Margaret reaches for the bracelet around her wrist but thinks better of it, instead clasping her hands in front of her.
“Like I said, Ms. Bach is an inspiration to me. What she did at Oxford changed everything for women there.” Her attention turns to Lillian now.
“I didn’t know if I wanted to have anything to do with this mission until I was informed that your death was a cover.
” Her perfectly white teeth shine through as a smile bright enough to light the room spreads across her face.
“It will be pertinent that you focus on the task at hand with navigation, Ms. Bach,” Mr. Ward says, stepping forward with his half-empty glass of whiskey.
“Ms. Williams has the experience for the job.” He takes a sip before swirling the glass.
“She may have more experience in the field than both of you.”
Sensing an icy overtone, Margaret reaches over and places a hand over the man’s glass before forcing it down. “I have experience, but good heavens, I am so ready to work alongside another woman.”
Lillian smiles at this, and for the first time since the start of this meeting, I get a sense of complacency from her, perhaps even admiration.
With that, I clamp shut any notion of asking more questions and allow the final group member to step forward.
Though, he only draws the attention to himself when Diederick nudges him.