“We have no reason to think that anything is going to happen imminently with the Czech government. The coalition ministers are resisting resignation and that alone will keep the communists occupied for weeks. Even if they are successful, it will be months until they can form a new government. Nothing will happen before the elections next June.”

“How long?” I ask. “I mean, if I agree to go, how long would I need to be gone?”

“A few days,” the D.M. replies quickly. “A week at most. Less if you are able to find Andek and get to Marcelitis quickly.”

“Marta, you can’t be seriously considering this,” Simon interjects.

I turn to the D.M. “Sir, may we have a moment in private?”

“Certainly, though I’m afraid I must ask you to be brief. I need to get over to the minister’s office right away, and they’re going to want an answer on how we plan to handle the situation.” He walks out of the room and closes the door behind him.

I turn to Simon, who stares at me from the far side of his desk for several seconds. “The resistance,” he says slowly, his voice a mixture of anger, hurt and disbelief. “You could have told me, Marta.”

“I wanted to,” I reply, thinking guiltily of all of the other things he still does not know. “But it was such a painful part of my past. I was afraid.”

Simon crosses the room and drops down in front of my chair on one knee to face me at eye level. “Marta, this idea of the D.M.’s is madness. Please tell me you aren’t seriously considering it.”

I do not answer but study Simon’s face. This is the most interest he has shown in me since we have been married, I realize. For a moment I wonder if he is simply jealous that I can contribute something here that he cannot. But the concern in his eyes is genuine. Something tugs inside me. For so long, he has seemed to see right through me. Is it possible that he might actually miss me if I was gone?

I stand up and walk to the window, considering the D.M.’s request. Prague. Eastern Europe. Inwardly, I wince. That part of the world was home to me once. But now that I am safe in London, it seems dark and desolate, the place of a thousand painful memories and broken dreams. How can I possibly go back? Across the park, I can see the edge of the Parliament building. I faulted the British for doing nothing the last time, during the war. How can I now do the same? I turn back. “Simon, if I am really the only one who can help…”

“What about our daughter?” he demands, gesturing to the picture that sits on the corner of his desk.

I turn to gaze at the image of Rachel taken in the garden last spring. The idea of leaving her, even for a few days, is almost inconceivable. “I am thinking of her. Simon, Rachel is fortunate enough to be growing up in a safe place. For now. But I know firsthand how quickly things can change. You’ve said yourself that the communist threat is as real and dangerous as the Nazis….”

“Rachel is safe.” Simon walks toward me, placing his arms on my shoulders. His hands seem almost foreign. Simon seldom touches me. Now he is reaching out, attempting to get me to listen to him. I look from his hands to his beseeching expression, then back again. Even now, his touch is not affection, I realize sadly, but a tool of persuasion. “Rachel will always be safe here.”

“Maybe.” But I am thinking not only of Rachel. In my mind I see Emma and Lukasz, the orphaned rabbi’s son she cared for during the war. She had taken him with her when she fled and was surely raising him as her own, along with the child she was expecting when I last saw her. They are likely still somewhere in Eastern Europe while I am living here. What are their lives like? Guilt washes over me. “I have to try, Simon.” I look into his eyes, pleading for him to understand. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. It’s just a quick trip, a few days at most. I’m sorry,” I add.

He pulls back his hands as though burned. The concern disappears and the earlier anger reappears in his eyes. “So am I,” he replies coldly. Before I can speak further, he turns and walks from the room.

“Simon, wait…” I start after him, then stop again. He is upset, I know, at being defied. But this is not his decision to make.

A second later, the D.M. appears in the doorway. “I saw your husband leave…”

“He’s not happy with my choice.”

“Does that mean you’ll go?” I hesitate, then nod. The D.M. crosses the room. “That’s wonderful news.”

“On one condition. I have a young daughter. I cannot afford to be away from her longer than a week.”

“That won’t be a problem. All we need you to do is speak to Andek, get him to put you in touch with Marcelitis, get the cipher. That should take a day or two at most.”

“What if he won’t give it to me?”

“He’ll give it to you. He has to. While you and Simon were talking, I made some calls. A package is being put together for you to take. It contains our key contacts in certain Eastern European countries, information that is valuable to Marcelitis’s work. We’re also going to offer him sizable funds placed in a Swiss bank account that will finance his operations for some time. But he gets none of this unless he gives you the cipher. Once you’ve obtained it, we’ll have someone standing by to extract you.”

“Extract?” I repeat. The word makes it sound as though it will be difficult to leave.

“It’s just an expression,” he replies quickly. A strange expression crosses the D.M.’s face, then disappears again so quickly I wonder if I might have imagined it. “So we are agreed?” he presses.

I swallow, forcing down my uneasiness. “Yes.”

“Excellent. You should take the rest of the day off and go home to prepare for the trip. I’ll finalize all of the arrangements when I return and send further details through Simon later this evening.” Simon. I remember his angry expression before he stormed from the office. “A car will come for you at six o’clock in the morning,” he adds.

Tomorrow morning. I had not imagined it being so soon. But the sooner I go, the sooner I will be home again. “I’ll be ready.”

“Thank you, Marta,” he says solemnly. “We owe you more than you know.” Then I watch as he turns and walks out of the office, wondering if I have just made the biggest mistake of my life.

CHAPTER 15

I tiptoe down the creaky wood stairs and across the darkened parlor. The house is still except for the ticking of the clock above the mantelpiece. Five-fifty, it reads, ten minutes until I am scheduled to depart. I walk to the front window and peer out into the deserted predawn street. The smell of roast beef from last night’s dinner hangs in the air.

I turn and look up the stairs, fighting the urge to check on Rachel once more. Earlier I stood in the doorway to her bedroom listening to her light, even breathing, punctuated by nonsensical babble as she dreamed. I crept to her crib and looked down, guilt washing over me. How could I leave her? I will be back in a few days, I told myself. She will not even know that I am gone. And someday when she’s old enough, I will be able to tell her what I did and why. I reached down and kissed her, inhaling deeply to trap her powdery scent and take it with me.

Forcing my thoughts away from Rachel, I walk to my small suitcase that sits by the door. Uncertain what to bring, I packed two changes of clothing and a few toiletries. I pick up my purse, which sits on top of the suitcase, opening it and checking that the papers I tucked into the lining are still there. Simon gave them to me last night when he returned from work. “From the D.M.,” he said coldly as he handed the envelope to me in the kitchen.

I took the envelope uncertainly. Was I supposed to open it? “Simon, please. I know you’re upset about my going, but I really need your help.”