FBI agent Jake Bernstein goes undercover to investigate a naturalized American grandmother to determine if she was the notorious Nazi spy, Hummingbird, who caused the deaths of thousands during World War II. His obstacles: a dangerous neo-Nazi organization, the woman’s lovely granddaughter, sixty years’ worth of lies and a cagey old women. His priority: Staying alive!
Handsome FBI agent Jake Bernstein is recruited by MI5 to go undercover in England and Ireland and investigate a naturalized American grandmother. His task: Discover if she was the notorious Nazi spy, Hummingbird, who caused the deaths of thousands during World War II. His obstacles: A dangerous, Irish neo-Nazi organization, the woman’s lovely blond granddaughter, and sixty years’ worth of lies. His priority: Stay alive!
“In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.”
The four-decker ferry tossed about in the Irish Sea. Keeping her sea legs, Clare Eberhard stood and peeked through the curtains of stateroom number five. It was dark and the rain lashed the window with howling fury. She glanced at her watch. It was time.
Her heart leapt and her stomach tightened into a hard ball. Beads of sweat covered her brow. An attack of nausea threatened but she pushed it down. Her extensive training hardened her mind. This was wartime, a time for drastic measures and sacrifice. Every loyal German was a soldier. She was both loyal and a soldier.
A pounding at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Clare said to the girl sitting on the bunk, forestalling her from getting up. The pretty, blonde Irish girl looked up from her book of poetry and smiled. She tucked a needlepointed bookmarker into her book, swung her legs around, and planted her feet on the floor.
“’Tis sure to be the cabin steward with the tea I ordered. Please join me, Katy. ‘Tis bound to be an unsettling crossing. The tea will be soothing.”
Clare smiled, then frowned almost reflexively. The young Irish woman was sweet and charming. They had met each other an hour before boarding—although Clare knew her entire personal history—and had teased each other about their strikingly similar looks: Their height and figure, hair and skin color, facial features. All except for the eyes. The Irish woman’s were a striking hue of blue, almost turquoise. Physically, they could have been fraternal twins.
They’d discussed their plans for jobs in London, shared verbal summaries of their Curriculum Vitaes and basically hit it off. So much so, they decided to share the cost of a stateroom aboard the ferry, finding it prudent for two single women traveling alone.
Bile rose and burned her throat. Clare quelled her weakness and smiled at the Irish girl.
“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you. You’re very kind.” Clare put up her hand, making the girl hesitate. “I’ll get the door. I’m closest.”
She paused for a long moment as she gazed at the young woman’s countenance. The resemblance was so remarkable, the main reason why Horst had scouted the country and finally chosen her. She was just the right mark. Now, there was no stopping the chain of events that their superiors had set in motion two years before. They had their orders.
Such was war.
The Irish girl glanced at the door, then back at Clare. As if wondering why her new friend, Katy O’Donnell, was hesitating. A flare of the girl’s turquoise eyes alarmed Clare, prompting her to act. Forcing down any residual regret, Clare went to open the door a crack. She recognized her lover—now disguised as a common Irish machinist--and hurriedly stepped back so he could burst into the small room. She pushed the door shut against the squalling wind. Then Clare whipped around to watch the terrible thing that had to happen.