Faith and Beauty by Jane Thynne

Reich Chamber of Culture. You need permission to go abroad and nowadays it’s not often given. Certainly not without a plausible explanation.’
    For a second, Grand steepled his fingers in thought, then he aimed them towards her in the shape of a gun.
    ‘How about if you were to feature in French
Vogue
?’
    ‘
Vogue?
’
    ‘You know, the fashion magazine.’
    ‘I know what
Vogue
is, Major Grand. But why would they want to feature me?’
    ‘Well, it’s not a magazine I’m intensely familiar with,
Horse and Hound
is about my limit where periodicals are concerned, but we have a friend who works as a photographer there and I daresay a spread on European cinema might be the kind of thing he does. My sources tell me you’ve done some modelling in the past.’
    Clara nodded, realizing precisely how much detail about her lay in that manila file in front of him. In 1933, shortly after her arrival in Berlin, she had been invited to model outfits for the Reich Fashion Bureau, an establishment set up by Hitler. That was how she had come into contact with Magda Goebbels, Emmy Goering and the other senior Nazi wives.
    ‘Excellent then. Our friend’s name is Thomas Epstein. He occupies apartment four, number eleven Rue Léopold-Robert in the fourteenth arrondissement of Paris. Can you remember that?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘I’ll tell him to expect you. Shall we say two weeks today? And we’ll need to have whatever information you can obtain by July.’
    ‘July! But, you see, I don’t actually think . . .’
    ‘I hope I did impress on you, Miss Vine, that time is very much of the essence.’
    Grand walked briskly to the door, as though Clara’s objections, let alone any further pleasantries, were a dangerous waste of time. Suddenly she sensed her chance slipping away. She couldn’t leave without asking the question that was tearing her apart.
    ‘Major Grand, do you know Leo Quinn?’
    Outwardly, his genial expression remained intact, but minute study of his face revealed that her question had disturbed him. A muscle flickered in his jaw and he gave the barest nod of assent.
    ‘Would you have any idea where I could contact him?’
    ‘Contact Mr Quinn? Now why would you want to do that?’
    Clara hesitated, wondering if Grand knew the truth. He knew so much else about her, there was every reason he would. Every reason except Leo’s careful, meticulous attempts to keep their love affair secret.
    ‘He’s an old friend of mine. He’s the one who got me into all this in the first place when he was a passport control officer in Berlin.’
    Grand paused with his hand on the doorknob.
    ‘If I were you, my dear, I should forget Mr Quinn.’
    It took everything Clara had to prevent the alarm that rose in her showing on her face. Blindly she trained her eyes Major Grand’s moustache and gripped the cotton handkerchief inside her pocket.
    ‘Forget him? What do you mean by that?’
    ‘Just what I say.’
    ‘Is it bad news?’
    ‘Need-to-know basis, I’m afraid.’
    ‘But I do need to know.’ She clenched her teeth. ‘Has something happened to him?’
    Grand gave another businesslike smile but his voice was softer.
    ‘I don’t like telling you this, my dear. I
shouldn’t
be telling you this, frankly. But our networks in Europe have taken a bad hit. We lost a couple of agents in Austria and Mr Quinn was involved. Our network there was blown.’
    ‘In Austria? I thought . . .’ What did she think? She had no idea what Leo did, where he went or what his job really was.
    Grand stared beyond her, a pained expression on his face, his mouth grim as though fighting to contain emotion.
    ‘There’s a break in the chain somewhere. An informer on the continent. I can’t be any more precise than that but it behoves all our people to be doubly, triply cautious about who they trust.’
    ‘But Leo. You don’t know what’s happened to him? Not for sure?’
    Grand touched a hand to her shoulder.
    ‘I’m sorry. Your friend