Official Report
British Intelligence
Code: 3986
Kathleen Winfred
That night I slept in a real bed for the first time in what seemed to me like forever.
I suppose it wasn't exactly a luxurious bed. It was top bunk in a set of bunk beds I would share with Pirot.
Pirot told me to make myself at home. I had no belongings, but Pirot returned to me my necklace I had been wearing when I was captured. She said that everything else had been burned to erase any evidence that Kathleen Winfred still lived.
I was Ilsa now. I had to get used to my new name. I was a new person now. If anyone outside of Von Steubon, Pirot, or Albert, saw through our ruse, I could face death. The people who had helped me could face it as well.
The bed may not have been luxury, as the hotel had been when I visited on that visit to France, long ago, but to me it felt heavenly.
I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.
YOU ARE READING
Winfred
Historical FictionThe Women's Guard, The Soldier, The Nazi, The Spy. The Spy turned Prisoner. As they say, dead men (or women, as the case may be) tell no tales. But Kathleen Winfred isn't dead; she managed to escape. Now, the story of her capture by Nazis in occup...
