about sums it up.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me, Kerensky?”
“Yes.” But he didn’t need to know why.
“An honest answer at last,” he said, an odd hint of approval in his gaze.
His reaction threw her off balance. Again. What was she supposed to do with him now?
“Go ahead.” He gestured for her to continue speaking. “You might as well tell me the rest, the part you’re intentionally hiding from me.”
She pretended to misunderstand him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He simply looked at her.
She held perfectly still, dreading the obvious question to come. Was she a Jew?
But he surprised her once again.
“Tell me, Katarina,” he drawled. “Why don’t the British trust you?”
Chapter Five
Three. Four.
Five.
Jack counted each emotion that flashed in Kerensky’s eyes. Up to this point, she’d proven herself inventive, bold and cunning, all necessary qualities for a spy. But in the soft moonlight, with so many emotions running across her face, she looked fragile, and surprisingly vulnerable.
In spite of Jack’s distrust, a cold chill of fear for her took hold. If she were working for the British, which all the signs indicated, then she was playing a dangerous game with her life.
Why take the risk?
Jack had personally witnessed the hideous forms of torture the SS used to get answers. He’d watched in steely silence as the toughest men were utterly destroyed under the perfect blend of physical pressure and mental interrogation. The experience had cost him his soul. A reality he’d long since accepted, or at least lived with as atonement for his sins.
But now, as weariness kicked in, he didn’t know if he could watch this woman suffer the Nazis’ ruthless brand of interrogation. Unless, of course, she was working against him. Even then…he wasn’t so sure.
The woman confused him. She made him want to return to simpler times, when the love of a sovereign God was concrete in his mind. When Jack had dealt with situations beyond his control by tapping into the knowledge that the Lord was bigger than any circumstance man could create.
But that was a long time ago, a lifetime ago.
Jack knew better than to take anything for granted, especially the actions of a trained professional.
Still on his guard, he gave Kerensky a look a few degrees short of friendly and continued waiting her out.
One beat, two beats, three.
At last, she broke. “The British don’t,” she began as she sucked in a harsh breath, “they don’t trust me?”
Her reaction pleased him. The bitter resentment in her tone meant he’d actually shocked her. He had the upper hand now. Though he doubted she would accept the shift in power for long.
In his years as a spy, he’d never met a woman who could hold her own against him. Before Kerensky. Her determination was as forceful as his. For that alone, his gut told him to take a chance and trust her to do her share in the mission.
He restrained himself.
Until he discovered if she was an ally or a shrewd double agent he would not relax his guard.
“Look, Kerensky.” He pushed to his feet. “Let’s rid ourselves of this ridiculous power struggle and get on with the business at hand.”
In response to his frankness, her composure slipped just a bit, but not enough to give Jack a sense of her real motives.
She was good. Very, very good.
With practiced grace, she stood and then paced through the small, stylishly furnished room. “If what you say is true and the British don’t trust me, then it must be because they know about my…my mistake.”
Her voice hitched. Part of her act? Probably. “What sort of mistake?” he asked.
Before responding, she roamed through a set of double doors with a liquid elegance that spoke of her stage training. Jack followed her, taking special note of how she gained immediate confidence once she had the physical barrier of an antique wooden table between them.
“It’s not what you think,” she said.
He willed himself to remain calm. In his line of work, losing his temper got a man killed faster than bullets. “It never is.”
“You don’t have to be snide. The information I gave MI6 was correct.” She dropped her gaze to the table, drew a path of circles with her fingernail. “At least, it was at the time I sent it.”
“Of course.”
She slapped her palms on the table and leaned forward. “Your attitude is not helping matters.”
“Nor is your penchant for withholding valuable pieces of information.”
Head held high, she marched around the table and stopped long enough to let out a soft sniff of disapproval before she continued past him.
Keeping the woman in his sight, Jack trailed after her as she went back into the adjoining room and turned to face him. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the doorjamb.
Neither said a word, each silently assessing the other. Jack considered the tactical scenarios and possible outcomes. The only wrong questions were the ones he didn’t ask. “My patience is wearing thin. What mistake did you make, Katarina?”
Regardless of the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, she held his gaze. Brave woman.
“Karl Doenitz moved his headquarters this morning.”
Jack dragged a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to let loose the string of obscenities that came to mind. “How very inconvenient for us all. Except, of course, for the Nazis.”
“Now you’re being paranoid.”
“I was trained to be paranoid.” He drilled her with a hard glare. “And I’m very good at my job.”
She sighed. “I realize this sounds bad, but Karl Doenitz is still in Wilhelmshaven. He’s moved from Marinestation to Sengwarden.”
Jack caught the quick, guilty glance from under her lowered lashes. “Which means you don’t know where the plans are any longer.”
“I—”
“This trip to Hamburg has been a waste,” he said, more to himself than her. “For nothing more than countless hours of…games.”
“Oh, I promise you, this is no game. I know where the plans
