Jan goes through first, crouching to fit inside the low doorway. I follow, wondering if the space is large enough to hold all of us. On the other side, I gasp. We are in a tunnel of some sort. Here the ceiling is high, the walls well carved out of stone.

“These are the Nussen tunnels,” Jan says, not looking back. “The first ones were created in medieval times, and they were expanded by independence fighters during the Prussian war, who used them to avoid foreign troops. They connect to points all over the city. Come.”

“Were they used during the war?” I ask. “The recent one, I mean.”

“They were used by what little resistance managed to survive in Berlin. Fortunately the tunnels are a well-guarded secret and the Nazis either never discovered them or didn’t understand their true value. Berlin would have been a much harder city to take if the Allies had to fight the war down here.”

Jan does not speak further but leads us through the tunnel. My ankle begins to throb as I struggle to keep up with her swift strides. “Are you okay?” Paul, noticing my limp, asks in a low voice behind me. I nod. Ahead, another tunnel intersects with ours. Jan turns right into it without warning. The new passageway slopes upward, causing us to climb as we walk. Ahead I can sense cool dawn air. A few minutes later we reach the end of the tunnel. Above us is a hole, revealing the star-filled sky.

“Wait a second,” Jan says, reaching into her pocket. She hands me a small metal object. “I believe that’s what you came here for.”

I hold up the cipher. It is a cylinder, no bigger than my thumb. “Thank you.” I tuck the cylinder into my pocket.

“And these are yours,” Paul says, pulling the papers he took from Jan’s apartment out of his pocket and handing them to her. “We took them for safekeeping in case the police came back to your apartment.” I had nearly forgotten about the papers. I realize now that Paul held them back deliberately as insurance until Jan gave us the cipher.

“Thanks.” Jan tucks the papers into her pocket. “I guess I’ll have to work with you now that you’ve seen my operational notes.” Before either of us can answer, she locks her hands and lowers them to her knees as if to give me a boost out of the tunnel. “Here.”

Paul steps forward. “Let me.” Before I can react, he puts his strong, warm hands around my waist and lifts me over his head. My head swims as I remember his earlier touch. I raise my head through the hole, then use my arms to pull myself up and outside to the ground. Standing up and brushing the dirt from my dress, I discover that we have reached a park.

Jan climbs out of the hole. “All clear?”

I nod, then point to a truck that is parked several hundred meters away. “Except for that.”

“That’s ours,” Jan replies as Paul appears beside us. “Let’s go.” We hurry across the grassy field to the truck. Jan waves to the driver, then leads us around to the back carriage, which is covered by a tarp. “In there. Stay away from the edge, out of sight.”

“You’re not going with us?” Paul asks.

Jan shakes her head. “The driver, Milo, is a good man and can be trusted. He’ll get you past security into the harbor and as close as he can to the ship. After that it’s up to you.”

“What about you? Where will you go?” Paul asks.

“South.” She touches her pocket. “To make use of the information you’ve given me.”

“You’re going to Prague?” I ask. Jan nods. “Is that safe now?”

“It will be fine,” Jan replies. “They’ll never expect me to come back so soon.”

“Jan, there’s one thing. Marek Andek’s wife, Emma, is a good friend of mine. She’s still in Prague with the children.”

“I’ll look in on her,” Jan promises. “Andek gave up everything for us. I’ll make sure his wife is safe, that she has whatever she needs.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I know what it has taken for you to bring me this information, what both of you have risked. I won’t let it go to waste.” She shakes Paul’s hand firmly, then reaches over and kisses me on the cheek. As she pulls back, she lingers for a second, her lips close to my ear. “Don’t let him go again,” she whispers before straightening. I am too stunned to reply. “Now, get out of here.”

Paul turns to me. “You ready?” I nod, and he helps me onto the back of the truck and climbs in himself, pulling the tarp closed. I drop to the wooden floor. As Paul follows me, the truck begins to move, sending him flying toward me. He reaches out to break his fall.

I look out the back of the truck, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the famous Jan Marcelitis. But she has already disappeared into the darkness. “She’s pretty remarkable, isn’t she?”

“You’re pretty remarkable yourself,” Paul replies.

“Me? I’m just a diplomat’s wife.” I look away, remembering his earlier words.

“Marta, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” I turn back inside the carriage. It is mostly empty except for some wooden crates piled against the wall that separates us from the driver. Curious, I crawl toward the crates. Closer to the front of the carriage, I notice that some floorboards have been peeled back, revealing the road beneath us as we drive. “Paul, check this out.”

He crosses the carriage to me on his hands and knees. “Careful,” he says, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me back from the edge of the hole. “I don’t need you falling through.”

I look up at him. Our eyes lock. Neither of us speak for several seconds. “Marta, about what happened—”

I cut him off. “We shouldn’t talk about it.”

“I understand. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I never should have kissed you.”

“You didn’t. I kissed you, remember?” Paul does not answer. “Anyway, like I said earlier, I’m glad it happened.”

“Me, too,” he admits, leaning back against the crates. “But it’s kinda difficult, you know? Remembering how good it was between us…”

“And knowing it can’t happen again?” I finish for him. He nods. “I know.”

I lean back beside him and he puts his arm around me. “This is okay, though, isn’t it?” He gestures with his head toward his arm. “I mean, it’s like that night in Salzburg. Innocent.”

Innocent. I look from his face to his arm around my shoulder, then back again. There’s nothing innocent about our feelings. But soon we’ll be home and Paul’s arm around me will be a distant memory again. “It’s fine,” I say at last, reaching up and squeezing his hand.

We bounce along in silence, not speaking. “How long do you reckon until we reach the harbor?” he asks.

“A few hours. I wish we hadn’t left the deck of cards back in the wine cellar. I’d like a chance to redeem myself at gin.”

“True,” Paul agrees. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“I am a bit tired,” I admit. “But it’s probably not a good idea.”

“You go ahead. I’ll stay awake. Honestly, I’m not at all tired.”

I lean my head against Paul’s chest and close my eyes. His arm tightens around me, drawing me close. Like Salzburg, I think. I can almost smell the turpentine, hear the rain on the roof of the gardener’s shed.

Suddenly, the truck screeches to a halt, jarring me awake. I sit up groggily. “What is it?”

Paul turns around and pulls back the tarp slightly, peering out. “We’ve reached the harbor,” he whispers. “But the trucks are stopped ahead. It looks like there is some sort of checkpoint at the gate.”

Panic rises within me. “What are we doing to do?”

“Maybe they won’t look back here.” But as he continues to look outside, his face falls. “No, they’re inspecting each vehicle very closely. We need to get out of here. The floor,” he says suddenly. “We need to get out through the hole in the floor.”

“But Jan said to stay on the truck, that it would drive us right to the ship.”

Paul shakes his head. “That isn’t going to work anymore.” He crawls over to the hole in the floor. “You go first. When you hit the ground, I want you to move away from the truck quickly so you don’t get hit if it starts to move. Stay low to the ground, out of sight.”