I pulled my hat brim low over my eyes, blending in with the crowd, while trying to spot anyone who didn’t. I was in civilian clothes, and if it hadn’t been for the threat of German agents in similar attire, not to mention the blood on the tracks, I might have talked myself into enjoying this Swiss interlude. Instead, I saw everything with suspicious eyes, not trusting that anyone was who he said he was. I wasn’t, Diana certainly wasn’t, so how could we assume we were surrounded by harmless Swiss neutrals?

We trailed the procession of nuns out onto the street. They walked up the Corso San Gottardo, each clutching a small black suitcase, dodging the pedestrians strolling along the thoroughfare. Wind whipped at their cloaks and veils, the black fabric snapping like flags in a parade. Passing restaurants and shops with unaccustomed light spilling out into the street, the nuns made a beeline for the Chiesa di Santa Maria, a bronze-roofed church in a small, parklike setting. Trees surrounded two buildings to the rear, and I guessed this was where they’d be staying. As they entered the church, Philby guided me down a narrow side street, where a gray sedan sat idling. We got in the backseat and the driver took off without a word, circling around to the rear of the church. The car stopped and Philby got out, holding the car door open. A church door opened, the light from inside briefly framing the silhouette of a nun, who dashed to the car and slid into the backseat. Philby slammed the door and got in the front, a split second before the driver accelerated and sped along the gravel drive and out onto the road.

“Billy,” Diana said, glancing toward Philby, her eyes showing a curious mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, my dear,” said Philby. “I simply owed Lieutenant Boyle a favor and brought him along to see the sights.”