"Oh, well, that's all right, then," she said, mocking him. He decided to change the subject. He had noticed that she spoke with a south of France accent, so he said, "Where are you from?"

"I was born in Marseilles."

"And what do you do in the FANYs?"

"I drive Monty."

"Do you?" Paul was not supposed to give any information about himself, but he could not help saying, "I worked for Monty for a while, but I don't recall seeing you."

"Oh, it's not always Monty. I drive all the top generals."

"Ah. Well, come this way, please."

He took her to the room and poured her a cup of tea.

Maude was enjoying the attention, Paul realized. While Percy asked questions, he studied the girl. She was petite, though not as tiny as Flick, and she was cute: she had a rosebud mouth accentuated with red lipstick, and there was a beauty spot-which might even have been fake-on one cheek. Her dark hair was wavy.

"My family came to London when I was ten years old," she said. "My papa is a chef."

"And where does he work?"

"He's the head pastry cook at Claridge's Hotel."

"Very impressive."

Maude's file was on the table, and Percy discreetly moved it an inch closer to Paul. Paul's eye was caught by the slight movement, and his eye fell on a note made when Maude was first interviewed. Father: Armand Valentin, 39, kitchen porter at Claridge's, he read.

When they had finished, they asked her to wait outside. "She lives in a fantasy world," Percy said as soon as she was outside the door. "She's promoted her father to chef, and changed her name to Valentine."

Paul nodded agreement. "In the lobby, she told me she was Monty's driver-which I know she's not."

"No doubt that was why she was rejected before."

Paul thought Percy was getting ready to reject Maude. "But now we can't afford to be so particular," he said.

Percy looked at him in surprise. "She'd be a menace on an undercover operation!"

Paul made a helpless gesture. "We don't have any choice."

"This is mad!"

Percy was half in love with Flick, Paul decided, but, being older and married, he expressed his love in a paternal, protective way. Paul liked him better for that, but realized at the same time that he would have to fight Percy's caution if he was going to get this job done. "Listen," he said. "We shouldn't eliminate Maude. Flick can make up her own mind when she meets her."

"I suppose you're right," Percy said reluctantly. "And the ability to invent stories can be useful under interrogation."

"All right. Let's get her on board." Paul called her back in. "I'd like you to be part of a team I'm setting up," he told her. "How would you feel about taking on something dangerous?"

"Would we be going to Paris?" Maude said eagerly.

It was an odd response. Paul hesitated, then said, "Why do you ask?"

"I'd love to go to Paris. I've never been. They say it's the most beautiful city in the world."

"Wherever you go, you won't have time for sightseeing," Percy said, letting his irritation show.

Maude did not seem to notice. "Shame," she said. "I'd still like to go, though."

"How do you feel about the danger?" Paul persisted. "That's all right," Maude said airily. "I'm not scared." Well, you should be, Paul thought, but he kept his mouth shut.

THEY DROVE NORTH from Baker Street and passed through a working-class neighborhood that had suffered heavily from the bombing. In every street at least one house was a blackened shell or a pile of rubble.

Paul was to meet Flick outside the prison and they would interview Ruby Romain together. Percy would go on to Hendon to see Lady Denise Bowyer.

Percy, at the wheel, confidently wound his way through the grimy streets. Paul said, "You know London well."

"I was born in this neighborhood," Percy replied.

Paul was intrigued. He knew it was unusual for a boy from a poor family to rise as high as colonel in the British army. "What did your father do for a living?"

"Sold coal off the back of a horse-drawn cart."

"He had his own business?"

"No, he worked for a coal merchant."

"Did you go to school around here?"

Percy smiled. He knew he was being probed, but he did not seem to mind. "The local vicar helped me get a scholarship to a good school. That was where I lost my London accent."

"Intentionally?"

"Not willingly. I'll tell you something. Before the war, when I was involved in politics, people would sometimes say to me, 'How can you be a socialist, with an accent like that?' I explained that I was flogged in school for dropping my aitches. That silenced one or two smug bastards."

Percy stopped the car on a tree-lined street. Paul looked out and saw a fantasy castle, with battlements and turrets and a high tower. "This is a jail?"

Percy made a gesture of helplessness. "Victorian architecture."

Flick was waiting at the entrance. She wore her FANY uniform: a four-pocket tunic, a divided skirt, and a little cap with a turned-up brim. The leather belt that was tightly cinched around her small waist emphasized her diminutive figure, and her fair curls spilled out from under the cap. For a moment she took Paul's breath away. "She's such a pretty girl," he said.

"She's married," Percy remarked crisply.

I'm being warned off, Paul thought with amusement. "To whom?"

Percy hesitated, then said, "You need to know this, I think. Michel is in the French Resistance. He's the leader of the Bollinger circuit."

"Ah. Thanks." Paul got out of the car and Percy drove on.

He wondered if Flick would be angry that he and Percy had turned up so few prospects from the files. He had met her only twice, and on both occasions she had yelled at him. However, she seemed cheerful, and when he told her about Maude, she said, "So we have three team members, including me. That means we're halfway there, and it's only two pip emma."