1938: Paris

Everything had been going according to plan. I had infiltrated the camp with no problem, and was on my way to getting the files I needed. My high heels clicked on the long, marble hallway floor as I tried to sneak into the main office headquarters. This was no ordinary "camp." It was an exclusive, black-tie, satin gown celebration hall rented out by the hour. Only this glamorous front was a huge mask for the terror that hid behind the scenes.

I heard a door open just slightly behind me and I froze in my tracks. Another pair of heels began to click on the hallway. Barely breathing I turned around to look-it was a largely built main in a crisp and clean uniform-a beige and black uniform. This man was one of the Nazi leaders. He looked up suddenly and saw me. I smiled broadly and pushed a fallen strand of hair behind my ear, hoping he would not ask too many questions. But questions were the only thing on my mind as he approached me, an annoyed, amused, and puzzled look on his face.

"Frauline," he asked, trying to hide a smile and act stern, "what are you doing in this hallway?" He clipped to a stop and watched me expectantly.

"I was looking." I began quietly, hoping he wouldn't catch my American accent under my poor German.

"For what?" he prodded, frowning more deeply now.

"Oh, um.for.for the ladies' room," I finished, trying to hide my eyes coyly. The uniform snapped back in slight embarrassment, and then eased up a little.

"Dear frauline," he nearly purred, and moved closer, "that is at the other end of the hallway."

"Zer gut. Danke," I smiled and swiftly brushed by him. He returned the smile, looking like an idiot, then continued down the hall and through the curtain dividing the information I needed-badly.

I crouched behind a stack of extra chairs near a closet door and waited. I could hear muffled male voices behind the curtain, all speaking German, too fast and too low for me to catch. There was one voice I did recognize, though. Besides my helpful uniform, I could hear a voice of a German trying to speak English, and a distinct British male. I frowned, deep in concentration and thought-who of the Allies would be here? I thought only I was here for the British spies.or was I?

"You'll never get any information out of me, you damn Nazis! Just kill me now, I'm better worth dead now," the British voice cried. I heard a slap, and a low, quick conversation between a few German officers-one sounded like my helpful uniform.

"Nein, Rolston. We need you as ransom!" The German voice was strong and gruff, and began to leave! The curtain was drawn back and three large German officers emerged. I ducked back and watched as they marched silently by. This was my chance. I could take on junior officers, especially if that British voice was Edward Rolston, the infamous spy as I thought I had heard. Then, maybe we'd have a chance. Maybe.

I waited until the curtain was almost completely pulled back again by another Nazi officer and I peeked from behind the stack of chairs. I could partly see a ¾ profile of a British man, with a growing beard, and a bloodied face. Obviously he had been there for several days, and had been beat severely as well. Through the cut lip and nearly swollen eye I could tell it was Rolston. He was the foremost and most famous (well in all the Allied spy rings at least) spy from England. I had worked with him on a case before, dealing with spies in Washington, DC. It all turned out to be a cover-up for a large heist of the banking system. It had been great working with him; he was a very dedicated man, and very strong too..

I snapped back to reality. I had to do something. And now. As my helpful uniform stepped out from behind the curtain, I pushed the stack of chairs down, knocking the man in the shoulder and crushing him under the heavy stack of chairs. A second man turned at the crash and groan from my uniform. He stared right at me, and frowned. Immediately he raised his pistol and I froze. My heart beat rapidly and I barely breathed. I smoothed my dress and fixed my hair. I tried to calm down and smile at the man pointing a gun at me.

He started speaking to me in German, and I could only stare at him. He looked so familiar.Goebbles.it was Hermann Goebbles! The head of the Gestapo! He was the most dangerous Nazi next to Hitler himself.

The only thing I could think of to do was to get away from him. I picked up one of the fallen chairs and whapped him across the face with it. He screamed but a shot still was fired. I could feel a sudden pain in my arm and then the warm spread of blood flooded over me. I grabbed my arm and stepped over the limp body of Goebbles, to behind the curtain. I stepped in front f the lone chair, holding back the startled Edward Rolston.

I tried to smile, as I held my bleeding arm.

"Hi, Rolston. Good to see ya."

"Well, if it isn't my very daring American friend. Help me out of this thing, Sarah. Quickly!"

I helped Rolston get out of his binds, untying his hands and feet, which were tied with a firm grip on the chair. He winced as the pulled his right shoulder around.

"Sore?" I joked and touched his bloody lip lightly.

"Just a bit. I've been here three days with only water and a little gruel or oatmeal or something, and of course, a healthy breakfast is never complete without a good beating," he returned the joke.

Rolston then noticed the deep red still seeping from my swollen arm. It began to hurt much more now, and I took one of Rolston's ropes around my arm above the shot as a poor, makeshift tourniquet.

"Oh, God, Sarah. Are you all right? I mean, I was beat, but never shot," Rolston gently cradled my arm as he wrapped strips from his torn dress shirt around my wound.

My voice shook from the pain as I tried to sound confident. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a delay. Ignore me. I need to get the files while we have time, before anyone comes back."

He nodded skeptically, but didn't argue. Rolston led me directly to the main filing system. "Which files?" he asked.

"I need everything about the Nazi formation, strength, alliances, and especially their dealings with the Soviets." I began to rifle through folders as I heard a click behind me. "Rolston, was that what I think it-" I stopped short as I felt a round, metal point dig into my back. I recognized the shape as a gun barrel and sighed. I was so close. Rolston also had a barrel in his back, I could see. The man behind me leaned in and began speaking in low German.

"If you keep quiet I won't kill you now," he said to me. He grabbed my arm- thankfully the healthy one-and pulled me around, facing him. I was startled by this abrupt turn, and felt afraid of what could now happen. I kept my gaze steady and glared deep into the German's eyes.

Rolston caught my eye but was still facing the files. "Don't you touch her, you dirty-mph!" Rolston sneered in German at my officer, who then hit him in the back.

"Or what, Rolston? Hmm? There is nothing you can do now to stop me, and it looks as if you'll just have to deal with it!" The officer emphasized his point with a kick and then grabbed me by my unhealthy arm. The pressure hurt the wound, and I winced silently. Unfortunately-or fortunately, maybe, the officer noticed, and was gentler towards me. "We must find a doctor," he muttered, as if I was not intended to hear. He gave quick orders to the second officer in German, but I could not follow it. I only prayed that it would not lead to Rolston's pain or even death.

My thoughts were broken as the German led me away, more like a woman companion to the ball than as a prisoner. I was not quite sure whether to be flattered or not, so I decided to use his soft side to the greatest extent as possible.

"Sir," I began, cradling my arm, and doubling over in melodrama, though the pain was searing, "oh, please take mercy on me, good sir."

The officer grunted, but his eyes seemed softer than the rest of his facial expression, almost as if he felt my pain, the pain and fear that went deeper than the bullet wound. It confused me for a moment, and I was unsure of how to interpret such a reaction.

"Frauline," he said, peering intently at me, "do not be afraid."

I stopped briefly, perplexed at his response, though somewhat relieved. I sighed, and felt a little relaxed.

The relaxation only caused for the blood to flow more noticeably out of my arm, which was throbbing painfully. We stopped at the end of the marble hallway and he knocked three times on a plain, almost hidden door. I felt a wave of pain wash over me, and I gripped my arm. I groaned at the pain and gritted my teeth. Blood seeped through the bandage, and through my fingers. Holding my arm to my stomach, I fell to my knees, and fainted.

When I awoke, I was in a comfortable bed, all tucked in as if I were a child again. I looked to my side for my teddy bear, but no luck. No teddy bear since 1920. I rolled over and felt the pressure of my shot arm. Only now it was cleaned up, bandaged, and less swollen. Though it still hurt, I felt much better.

I tried to sit up, but my head felt flooded, and I felt very woozy-drugged almost. I was no longer wearing my black silk gown from the party, but a hospital gown. Suddenly it was clear where I was. I found a light on a small table by my bed and I turned it on. The brightness was blinding to me. A small clock was illuminated by the lamp, reading three o'clock. I was confused-was it late morning or middle of the day? What day was it? Where exactly was I? I began to feel more uneasy, and sat up a little straighter. I did not trust the situation, and tried to think back on what I could last remember. All I could think of were the files. I remembered being with Rolston in front of the files then being stopped. Two different officers took us opposite directions. Who was my officer and where did he take me? My headache grew, and my memory faltered. Suddenly it clicked. I remembered the great pain, then nothing. The officer must have taken me to a makeshift hospital or clinic set up. It was likely I was still in Paris at the Hotel Gran Marquis. The room was too delicate and quickly made for a bedroom to have actually been one. That conclusion was slightly comforting, though, still, I felt nervous, and vulnerable. And I still had a mission to complete, as soon as possible. The Allies needed those files.

My racing thoughts were abruptly halted by two curt knocks on my door. Without waiting for a response the door opened. "Bonjour, madame!" the small man in the doorway gave me a short bow. He held a small clipboard and had a stethoscope around his neck. I had to assume he was my doctor.

"Bonjour, monsieur.?" I asked cautiously.

"Please, call me Jean. My name is Jean-Pierre Bignone. I am your doctor."

"Oh, well, thank you. I do appreciate you helping me. I've never been shot before, and I hope to never be again."

"Would you like medicine for the pain?" Jean moved closer to my bedside and pulled out a small bottle of pills. He poured a glass of water and handed me one pill. "It will make you relax, maybe you will sleep. That would be best for you now."

I nodded thankfully, and took the pill. Its affects seemed almost instantaneous, but I had more questions before I would fall asleep again. "What day is it, exactly Dr. Bignone?"

"It is Thursday, June 12, 1938," he responded, "and it is 3:30 in the morning. Most everyone is sleeping. Except, for Dr. Stondhein, myself, and, of course, Col. Dietrich." Jean winked at me and began to leave.

"Who are they?" I stopped him at the door.

"Well, Dr. Alexander Stondheim is my associate who removed your bullet, which he is retrieving now, I believe. For some reason he felt you might like to keep it." I chuckled, but it was true. Jean continued, "And Col. Dietrich-don't you know? -he is the man who brought you here. To this clinic."

Pieces of the puzzle began to come together. I had been out for only a few hours, for I was Wednesday night I attended the party. I was still at the Hotel Gran Marquis, and.Col. Dietrich? I was extremely curious to know more about him. Jean closed the door behind him as he left, and I settled back down in my bed, the medicine relaxing me and making me sleepy again. I was just about asleep when another quick knock came at my door.

"Yes?" I could hardly whisper loud enough. The door was eased open and a familiar face peeked around the door. In the dim light I could make out a man's face with a small moustache and ruffled hair. He held an officer's hat in his hands and he looked exhausted. It was my capturer and apparently my savior-Col. Dietrich.

"Excuse me, Frauline," he looked down, too shy or embarrassed to enter.

"Please come in Colonel. I believe I need to thank you for bringing me here. It has saved my life, though I do not know if that will last for long."

"You must believe me, Miss Thomas," he began, "I mean no harm towards you. There are workings here beyond comprehension. I had to stop you before anyone else got to you."

"I do not understand, Colonel." He cam in and sat down in the chair by my bedside. After fiddling with his hat for a moment, he frowned.

"How do you know my rank?"

I grinned and pointed at his insignia. He blushed and nodded. "Actually, Dr. Bignone told me," I smiled.

"Ah, I see," he nodded. "I am Col. Joseph Dietrich. But who you think I am beyond that is not at all who I am. I must explain to you. Like you, I am a spy. I am a German who hates Nazis and everything they stand for. I am working with the Allies here in France to gather as much intelligence as possible. No one besides the French government, Dr. Bignone and Dr. Stondheim-and now you-knows about this. It is highly essential no one else know. Just like no one knows about you." I nodded and frowned. I had to believe him; so far he had been helpful and gentle towards me. The two doctors must be his contacts, so nothing else seemed out of order. I assumed from Jean's earlier wink that he only knew me as Dietrich's date to the ball. "I know what files you need, and will help you get them. Only we need to copy or replace them, otherwise a great search and purge will occur with much death and destruction. I have seen it before."

"What about Rolston?" I asked impatiently.

"He is not harmed, only being held. It is good we caught him too. His mission is yours, only in a different camp. He was discovered before he could get safely to his camp. I have directed to aid you and complete Rolston's mission if he is unable to do so. Once you are feeling stronger I believe the three of us will be able to find the files." Dietrich looked at me anxiously, and I frowned in thought. Finally I nodded in agreement.

"For now, Colonel, I am feeling quite ill. Dr. Bignone has given me more pills and I am feeling very sleepy."

"Oh, forgive me! Rest now, and we will speak on this soon-but before tomorrow evening."

"Why tomorrow evening?" I felt alarmed.

"Tomorrow we leave Paris. The files go too. You cannot go to Germany; it would be difficult for me to leave then. Now is our time."

Pressure suddenly surrounded me, and I felt extremely overwhelmed. "Before tonight I will feel ready." I sighed and fell back against my pillow. Dietrich pulled the blanket up over my wounded arm and rested his hand gently over my bandage. The same pain was reflected in his eyes and I was intrigued. He sighed and left, carefully closing the door behind him. I was exhausted, and now had much more to think about.

The clock read 3:42. About three hours was all I had, but I needed it. Turning off my lamp, sleep immediately overtook me and I lapsed into a comfortable slumber.

I awoke to voices near me. Through the groggy waking of my mind, I could make out Dietrich's deep voice, and Dr. Bignone's nasal French. A third voice was also there. I turned to face four men, Dietrich, Dr. Bignone, Dr. Stondheim, and Rolston. They were standing in a close circle, murmuring lowly in various languages, discussing my condition and the mission. I cleared my throat, and they all turned quickly. Dietrich's face brightened, and Rolston rushed to my side.

"Sarah, how do you feel?" he asked quietly, holding my hand.

"Better, though it still hurts," I replied, smiling.

"Would you like more pills?" Dr. Stondheim asked me, smiling patronizingly at me.

"No, thank you, Doctor. I believe I'd better not. We have a mission to complete, right Dietrich?" I looked at the colonel, who was now looking at the floor shyly.

"Yes, we must begin soon," he agreed.

I sat up carefully, wincing as blood rushed to my wound. It was no longer bleeding, but the pain had not lessened since it had been initially shot. I removed the covers and swung my weak legs across the bedside. Rolston helped me to move to the edge of the bed, and asked Dr. Bignone to retrieve my clothes. He gently helped my stand, and stretch some. I padded over to a small bathroom where I washed my face and combed my hair. Jean brought my clothes, and I dressed in the gown from the night before. Unfortunately my change of clothes was back with my contact in another hotel across Paris. Once I was dressed, I met the men and drank some juice and ate toast.

"I believe we need to create a slight disturbance to access the files easily," Dietrich was saying. Rolston agreed.

"We could call for checkups, if that would not be too obvious," Jean suggested. "It has been a few months for several officers."

"That might work.but what about replacing the files, as you said?" Rolston asked Dietrich.

Dietrich frowned and tapped his forehead. "Do you have various old papers and old file folders, doctors?" He looked at both the frowning doctors, confused.

"Well, yes, we have some old and unnecessary papers," Dr. Stondheim replied.

"We could use those, arrange them similarly to the folders we take, and leave those in return. Those checking all the folders do not check for content, only that all seem to be there and complete. That should be sufficient. What do you think?" Dietrich looked at me, a soft expression. Then he glanced at Rolston, who caught Dietrich's gaze, and shifted uncomfortably. He was suspicious, and unnerved, I could sense it. It had better not jeopardize our mission, I thought, by either of them.

Rolston nodded. "I believe that would work fine." I agreed, and the doctors immediately removed themselves from the small table to prepare some fake files.

It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when everything was set up and ready. We each had our roles and actions to carry out, and the files were ready. I was to act as Dietrich's date to the following cocktail party that afternoon and evening, while Rolston was to slip the necessary files out and the fake ones in. Dietrich would then "catch" him as a spy, if necessary, and escort him off the premises. I would go with Rolston in the car waiting, with Jean at the wheel. Dietrich and Dr. Stondheim were to meet us at the small airport at the latest by 11:30 in the evening.

I got dressed into a fresh dress Dr. Stondheim had in his office, apparently left from a long-ago rendezvous. Fortunately it fit, and had a jacket to cover my bandages. Dietrich pressed his uniform carefully, almost excessively so, I had to laugh. Rolston shaved, and wore one of Jean's extra shirts. It was six o'clock when we all headed out of the clinic down to the main ballroom floor. The cocktail party would end around 6:30, and then dinner would be served. Shortly before eating I was to fake being sick and have Dietrich escort me to the powder room, and appear to be leaving with an announcement from Dietrich. At the same time, Rolston was to be switching the files, and we would meet him then.

It was 6:40, my shining moment. "Oh, Colonel, I do believe I am feeling quite ill," I raised a handkerchief to my forehead, and grabbed his arm.

Dietrich did not miss a beat. Almost sincerely, he helped me to a chair, and brought me a glass of water. The expression on his face seemed of genuine concern, I almost broke my act. One of the older women hostesses came to my side. "Mademoiselle, are you ill?" She touched my forehead slightly.

"Oui, madame," I responded quietly. She spoke in quiet French to Dietrich, who comprehended completely and conversed expertly.

"Thank you, madame," I heard him say. I began to feel quite warm. I almost laughed at myself, my act was becoming reality. Smacking my hand, I tried to sit up straighter, but found it difficult to do so. I truly felt ill now, but how? My head felt heavy, and I felt weak. Sweat poured from my forehead, and I could hear Dietrich speaking quickly in German to me, though he looked and sounded so far away. The room blurred, and began to spin. I looked at the drink I was holding. It was just water, Dietrich had a butler bring it to me. That was all planned. What could be the problem, then? Why was I feeling ill? I dropped the glass and felt Dietrich hoist me into his arms just before I fell unconscious.

I awoke rather quickly from cold water being splashed on my face. Jean was standing over me in the clinic again, frowning hard, speaking in rapid French to Dietrich, who was by my side, holding my hand. I coughed, looked around me, and immediately sat up. My head was pounding, and I was utterly confused.

"What the hell happened? That was just water, right, Dietrich?" I asked impatiently.

"Yes, it was. At least that was all I asked for. Are you all right? That was not supposed to be part of the act, I know it," he smoothed the hair plastered to my face, and slightly stroked my cheek.

"I am fine now. I want to know what happened. I had to have been drugged. Someone must have known that I was a spy, or American at least. But.who? How? Were we being watched at all? I did not detect anything," my mind raced on as I considered every possibility aloud.

"I never suspected anything going awry either," Dietrich agreed. "But since you woke early enough, we are still able to complete the mission if you feel able."

"Oh, yes, yes. We must hurry. What time is it now?"

"Almost 7 o'clock, madame," Jean checked the little clock. "You must hurry to meet Rolston."

Dietrich helped me to my feet and I combed my hair back with my fingers. I was wet from the neck up, but hopefully no one would notice me just going down the hallway. It was not two minutes later when we reached the small filing room. Rolston was there, finishing switching the files.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting, going slower to have you get here, but-why are you all wet?" Rolston began, then hesitated at the sight of me.

"Don't worry about it. Do you have all the files?" I waved my hand, dismissing him, and helped gather all the stacks of files. "We must hurry." The clock read 7:08. In twelve minutes the car would be ready to leave.

We raced out the back door of the hotel nearest to the filing room, and jumped into the car waiting. Dietrich waved, as he closed the door after me. Jean was in the driver's seat, and we immediately sped away to the airport.

"It is nearly 11:15, what could be keeping them?" I paced back and forth in the small waiting area outside of gate 12.

"Don't worry, Sarah, I'm sure Dietrich and Dr. Stondheim will come soon. Please, sit down. You'll fret yourself too much. We wouldn't want you fainting again," Rolston smiled at me, and directed me to an uncomfortable plastic chair. I sat and began to rifle through some of the files. Papers regarding the "anschluss" or annexation of Austria to Germany were prominent, only three months old. There were also several maps and plans of the city of Paris. Several buildings were marked with x's, apparently targets. As the pit in my stomach increased, I shut the files. I knew I was violating security and shouldn't be looking at the papers.

After a seeming eternity, we saw Dietrich approach with another man. It was not Dr. Stondheim, though. It was a taller, lankier man with darker hair. He was unfamiliar to Rolston, Jean or I, and we became confused as the pair approached.

"Dietrich, you were detained, is everything all right?" I asked immediately.

"Yes, Sarah, I am all right. But I believe you all need to listen to this man," he replied. We all stared at the stranger expectantly.

"Well, who are you, sir, please speak. We have precious little time," Rolston snapped his fingers in an annoyed rush.

The stranger cleared his throat. "I am David Alder. I work for the FBI in the United States, and have been several months undercover in Paris. You all have been dangerously close to death on your mission, which I have been secretly monitoring," he began.

"Why did you never reveal yourself sooner, then, sir?" Rolston asked, obviously annoyed. "I was held up in that Hotel Gran Marquis for several days, so why was it you never came to my aid?"

"Mr. Rolston, I'm afraid I did not know about that. I apologize. However, I have been monitoring a Benedict Arnold."

"I beg your pardon?" Jean asked, squinting his eyes, clearly lost.

"A Benedict Arnold, sir. A traitor. Someone claiming to help the Allies, yet secretly giving all information to the Third Reich, to Hitler himself."

Several gasps and worried looks were exchanged. That is when we collectively realized that Dr. Alexander Stondheim was not with us.

"Do you mean to say Dr. Stondheim was actually a spy for Hitler?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have been monitoring you all at the Hotel for a few days now, though I was never told Rolston was here. I have been watching you, Ms. Thomas. At least, until you first disappeared into the clinic. I could never reveal myself to Dr. Stondheim, for he knew he was being watched. It was he who drugged your water last night. He knew of the plan and put enough medicine in the water to make you delay. I also knew of your plan, I'm sorry to say I had to have the clinic bugged. I could not be too careful about the lot of you as well. However, it is taken care of now. After you three left, I found Dietrich in time to relate to him the situation and the reality of Dr. Stondheim. Upon taking him into custody, we found several orders to kill all of you."

We stared in disbelief at the newcomer. "How can we trust you?" Rolston narrowed his eyes, not totally trusting.

"There is no real way. However, I believe that I can help you one last time. That might convince you. Did Dr. Stondheim give you the briefcase in which to carry the files, Ms. Thomas?"

"Well, yes, he did. It is over there, by my purse on the chair," I pointed to a rather plain black rectangular briefcase. "Why do you ask?"

Alder moved quickly and nimbly. He unlocked the case and felt along the silk sides of the case. He removed the files and lifted the bottom of the case. Along the left-hand side, he snagged on a tiny sticker. It was warm, electric, and had a slight humming sound. Alder then flung the briefcase towards the far wall, where no one was, only a high window. The case smacked the wall, and dropped to the floor. We all expected a large explosion or something to happen. But it didn't.

"Well, that was a dud. So much for your theory, Mr. Ald-" Rolston began, and was silenced by the delayed boom of the tiny bomb in the briefcase. Half of the wall was blown out, and luckily no one was hurt, since no one was truly near the wall, on either side.

"You were saying, Mr. Rolston?" Alder smugly glanced back at Rolston, and picked up the files.

"I believe we all have a plane to catch. Shall we go, gentlemen?" I ushered them towards the cloud of smoke, to gate 12. We rushed to the small plane, after letting a janitor know of the hole.

After settling in on the plane, we all began to relax. We were all heading back to DC for a debriefing for the president, CIA, and FBI. "You know, I believe we averted a war today," I remarked, pleased with our work.

"Did we? Well, I don't know about that," Rolston chuckled at my happiness.

"Well, why not? We raided the German files, and now any signs of aggression will be known of, or at least countered well."

Alder snorted, but did not comment. Dietrich smiled at me, and patted me condescendingly. "I believe now we have done the Allies a favor. Though none of our governments want war, they want to at least be alerted. Perhaps now Hitler will think twice before being aggressive in Europe or abroad," I continued confidently.

My confidence was quickly shattered as the pilot of our plane walked towards the small cabin from the cockpit. "We will arrive in Madrid in 14 hours, everyone," the pilot declared. We all sighed. Fourteen hours would be a long ride, and then we still had the Atlantic to cross. At least we had a successful mission, and I was feeling quite accomplished as I laid my head back, ready to take a long, much-needed nap to Madrid.

I relaxed, leaning back into my seat. I was just about to fall asleep when, to my surprise, someone sat down in the seat next to me. I looked over to see a handsome young man in the seat next to me, fiddling with something in his suitcase.

"Can I help you?" I sighed, somewhat annoyed by his sudden presence. When he did not reply, I sighed and leaned back, looking out the window again, gazing at the beauty of the night when I felt the familiar round metal press against my back, and the voice of the man saying, "Sarah, I would suggest you hand over those files to me, now." I jumped, and almost screamed.

"Sarah! Calm down, it is only me, Dietrich. You have been sleeping for hours. I just wanted to let you know we are almost at Madrid," Dietrich's hand rested on my shoulder for a moment longer, and I shook myself awake. It was just a dream. Always a dream. And we were almost in Madrid. All of us, safe, and with the files. I laughed slightly.

"All in a day's work." I yawned and shook my head, smiling to myself. "Yup, just all in a day's work."