Paul lets out a low whistle. “Isn’t Emma the one you told me about when we were in Paris, who spied on the Nazi commander? I thought you said she was married to someone named Jacob.”

I nod, surprised that he remembered the details of what I told him so long ago. “She was. Jacob died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” I look away, clearing my throat. “Anyhow, it’s a long story, but Emma wound up in Prague with Marek. Our government thought I could convince Marek to put us in contact with Marcelitis, then offer Marcelitis information and money in exchange for the cipher.”

“Makes sense, though I think they are crazy to send you to Prague alone, especially with everything that is happening. They had to have known. But you said Andek ‘was’ a close associate of Marcelitis. What happened?”

“He was arrested last night. He set up a rendezvous with Marcelitis for me before it happened. But the man who showed up at our meeting claiming to be Marcelitis wasn’t really him.”

“Who was he?”

I gesture with my head toward the entrance of the cave. “The man we just killed.”

“The bald man? Really?” I nod. “Marta, that was Boris Sergiev, a well-known Soviet assassin.”

“Assassin?” I repeat with disbelief.

“Yes.” Assassin. A chill shoots through me. Remembering the bald man lunging at me on the railway bridge, raised knife glittering in the moonlight, I am suddenly dizzy. Paul continues, “The police must have gotten Marek to give up the details of your meeting. Sergiev came to meet you expecting to kill Marcelitis and get the cipher.”

“Except Emma sent word to Marcelitis first and told him not to come,” I interject.

“Right, and when the bald man realized Marcelitis wasn’t showing, he must have decided to impersonate Marcelitis to get you to turn over the information. The Soviets weren’t messing around when they sent him. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

“I know,” I reply. “But I still have to get the information to Marcelitis.”

Paul cocks his head. “How are you going to do that?”

“Emma gave me a location in Berlin where she thinks he might be found.”

“And you’re planning to go find him?” I nod. “Does anyone in the Foreign Office know?”

“I asked Emma to send word through the embassy in Prague. And I called the Foreign Office from the train station before we left.” I cannot bring myself to say Simon’s name to Paul.

“And they were okay with what you were doing?”

“I didn’t give them a chance to say one way or the other.”

Paul brings his hand to his forehead. “Marta, this is insane! Prague was dangerous enough, but at least you had the embassy to back you up.” Some backup, I think, remembering Renata dead in the car, my desperate flight through the backstreets of Prague. Paul continues, “But trying to travel to Berlin alone to find this man…I mean, Berlin is even more of a powder keg than Prague. There it isn’t just some puppet regime—it’s the Soviets themselves controlling their sector. And they’ve made noises about blockading all of Berlin. It could happen anytime now.”

“That’s exactly why I have to get there right away.”

“But how? You’re in the woods of northern Czechoslovakia, hundreds of miles from Berlin. You have a sprained ankle. And as soon as the Soviets discover that Sergiev is missing or dead, they’re going to come after you, harder than before.” I hesitate, trying to think of an answer. “Please let me just get you out of here. I can sneak you over the border to Austria, get you to the embassy.”

“Paul, I’m sorry. But this is something I have to do.”

He looks across the cave, not speaking for several seconds. “Okay,” he says at last. “But we have to figure out a way to get to Berlin undetected.”

“We? You aren’t still planning to follow me, are you?”

He shakes his head. “That would be a little difficult, wouldn’t it, now that you know I am here? No, I can’t follow you anymore. And it doesn’t seem that I can stop you from going. So I guess the only thing to do is go with you so I can help you finish this mission and get you safely home.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You’re going to help me get to Berlin?”

“Yes. It’s self-interest, really. Your getting to Marcelitis is good for American interests, as well.” He sounds as though he is trying to convince himself. “And I can report back fully on your activities,” he adds.

I do not respond. He’s trying to protect me, I understand, studying his face. Part of me is glad. Finding Paul again, seeing he is alive, is like standing near a warm fire in winter. I am not ready to go out into the cold again. At the same time, I am hesitant. This is my mission. I do not need him rescuing me, not again. But he’s right. I need his help. “Fine,” I relent. “So what now?”

“First, let me finish taping your ankle.” His hand is warm against my skin as he wraps the bandage several times around my ankle, securing the end and fitting my shoe back over my toes. “Can you walk?”

I stand up, take a painful step. “Yes, it feels much better now,” I lie.

“Okay, but you still shouldn’t use it too much.” He comes to my side, then takes my arm and puts it around his shoulder. “There’s a village on the edge of the forest,” he says as we make our way slowly from the cave. “We need to get there and find some transportation.”

Neither of us speak as Paul leads me through the forest. Only the branches beneath our feet break the silence. As we walk, I stare at Paul, fearful that if I look away he will disappear. Soon, the trees begin to thin and I see footprints where others have walked, smell smoke from a nearby chimney. We reach a path that leads us to the outskirts of a village. Paul stops at the end of a tall hedge. “What are we doing?” I whisper.

“Shh.” He stops at a break in the in the hedge, gesturing toward it with his hand. “In there.”

“You want me to hide in the bushes?” He nods. I step into the hedge. “This better be good.”

“Wait here,” he says, disappearing around the corner before I can respond. Anxiety rises in me. I do not want to be separated from him again, even for a few minutes. I stare out from the bushes at the empty street. My mind struggles to reconcile all that has happened. Paul is here. Alive. But this is not two years ago. This is not Salzburg or Paris. You have Rachel, I remind myself. And Simon.

Paul reappears, pushing a two-wheeled vehicle of some sort. As he gets closer, I step from the bushes. I look from him to the bike, then back again. “Really? A motorcycle?”

“Don’t worry, I used to ride all the time back home.”

“But…”

“Look, do you want to get to Berlin or don’t you? We can’t take the train again and we don’t have a car. This is the best way.”

I can’t argue with his logic. “Where did you get it?”

“I borrowed it from a farmhouse down the road. I suspect the farmer will be very pleased to find the money I left, which is about three times what this thing is worth.”

Like the boat in Salzburg, I cannot help but think. I take a step toward the bike, then stop. “Paul, there’s something I have to tell you. I’m married now.”

“I know.”

I stare at him, surprised. “You do? But how?”

“American intelligence,” he replies stiffly. “Once we found out about your mission, we made it a point to learn all about you.”

“Oh.” I had hoped he knew because he cared enough to check. “I just wanted to let you know, in case you were helping me, well, because…”

“I’m helping you because it’s good for my country. That’s all.” He clears his throat. “Though I couldn’t believe your husband would let you go on such a dangerous mission,” he adds.

“He didn’t let me go,” I retort. “I insisted. It was my choice.”

He looks over his shoulder. “We need to go.”

I touch the seat of the motorcycle. “Does it run?”

“We’re about to find out. I didn’t want to start it back in town for fear of attracting attention.” He straddles the bike and steps on the kickstand. The engine splutters then revs noisily to life. “Come on.” He pats the seat behind him. “There’s no sidecar, like in the movies. You’ll just have to hold on tight. Now hurry, before someone hears us.” I hike up my skirt and straddle the bike clumsily. Paul reaches back and hands me a helmet. “Put this on.” When I have the strap fastened under my chin, he takes my hands and places them around his midsection. I tighten my grip, feeling his torso beneath his coat. As we start to move, I lean forward, resting my cheek on the smooth, cool expanse of his back, trying not to think, grateful for the excuse to be this close to him once more.