Undeceived (5 page)

Chapter 7

“Lean forward,” Liz said, while Johanna obediently covered her eyes with her hands and put her head over the kitchen sink. Liz rinsed the color from her patient’s newly cut hair—part of Johanna’s disguise for the upcoming journey. The last few days, Johanna had slept a lot, but she was starting to look better. There was a slight pinkness in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes. The cough was better too.

“I practice English now, okay?”

“Okay,” Liz answered.

“It was so good of Ambassador Hurst to allow me recuperate in his home, and his wife here to welcome me. And I enjoy getting to know you better, Erzsebet. How smart Mr. Kent is to bring you! You make my stay much more comfortable.”

“I’m not sure if it’s my nursing or the fresh fruit and vegetables Charles Bingley keeps foisting on you.”

Johanna smiled. “He is kind, yes?”

“I think he might be infatuated with you.”

“What does that mean—infatuated?” Johanna had some rudimentary knowledge of English, but they both knew she’d need more when she got to the West.

“Infatuated—um, intrigued…”

“Oh.” Johanna blushed, something she did frequently when Charles Bingley was mentioned. Reverting back to her native tongue, she said, “Oh, I…no. He is…kind to me.”

“He looks pretty infatuated to me.” She brought Johanna’s head up and towel-dried her hair. “Just comb the tangles out and we’ll let it dry. I wish we had hair conditioner.”

Johanna looked at her with a confused expression.

“Oh, um…to put on after the shampoo to help with tangles.”

“Ah, yes. That is not used much here.” Johanna reached for a comb. “It is quiet in the house today.”

“I kind of like it. And I’m sure Cara Hurst was glad to go back to Budapest.”

“Truly? I thought she seemed sad to leave.”

“Perhaps she’s only sad because she didn’t want to leave Darby’s bed.” Liz glanced up at Johanna’s furrowed brow. “I’ll bet she wished you and me and every other female who entered the house miles away from him.” Liz collected the towels they’d used into a pile. “I saw her leaving his room, the night before she left for Budapest.”

Johanna’s eyes went wide.

“Mm-hmm.” Liz tried to act nonchalant, but the little episode she witnessed had disturbed her. “I was in the bathroom right before dawn. I heard voices coming from his room—hers, sounding distressed—his was stern, angry. When I was in the hall, I saw her. She left the room in a rush, but then she stood outside the closed door with her forehead resting against it. I was baffled. She’s always so haughty, but she seemed—I don’t know—dejected maybe? I almost felt sorry for her.”

“Poor Cara.”

“Then she turned and saw me watching her. Put that smug expression right back on her face and stalked off. She’s probably thinking I’ll tell her husband. Like I care if she throws herself at Darby Kent.” Liz shrugged one shoulder. “No skin off my nose,” she muttered.

“Maybe I cannot blame her. Mr. Kent
is
a handsome man.” An impish smile crossed Johanna’s face, making Liz laugh out loud. Now that Johanna was feeling better, little sparks of mischief sometimes escaped her. She had a sharp wit softened by kindness, and Liz had grown quite fond of her.

“Are you ready to try a walk by the lake today?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Let’s don your hat and spectacles then,” she said, handing Johanna the rest of her disguise: a floppy hat and sunglasses brought from Liz’s apartment in Budapest.

Darby Kent met them in the vestibule. “Where are you two going?” he demanded, causing Liz to prickle with annoyance.

“For a walk. Johanna needs some air and sunshine. Don’t worry, Mom, she’s in disguise, and we’re just walking down to the lake and back.”

“I’ll escort you.”

“Completely unnecessary.”

“Nevertheless, I’m coming with you.”

“Suit yourself.”

They started off toward the lake and met Charles Bingley about halfway there.

“Good morning, ladies. Darby.”

“Charles.” Darby looked back and forth between Johanna and Bingley, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“We’re taking some fresh air. Care to join us?” Liz turned her back deliberately on Darby and gave Charles an inviting smile.

“We need to get off the street,” Darby interjected. “It’s too conspicuous.”

“Yes, definitely.” Charles looked from Johanna to answer Liz’s question. “Louis has a sailboat at the private dock. We should go sailing.”

Liz looked back at Darby. “I don’t know. The motion might make Johanna…”

“Yes, we go to sail! I have not sailed in long time.” Johanna’s eyes were bright. “I want to go.”

“I don’t know if sailing is any less conspicuous than strolling down the street in front of everyone.” Darby folded his arms, his eyes taking in the terrain around them.

“It’s got to be better than standing around in this stupid manner,” Charles chimed in.

Liz laughed. “Right you are. You know, I’ve never been sailing.”

Darby perked up. “Never?”

She shook her head.

“Then we must teach you.” His enthusiasm for the outing picked up suddenly. “You need to learn.”

“I’m not so sure about that. When would I need to sail anything?”

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Spy Rule Number Twelve: Never turn down the opportunity to learn a new skill.”

Liz shivered.

He rubbed the goose bumps on her arm, a shadow of a grin moving across his face. “Don’t be a scaredy-cat.”

“I’m not.”

“What’s the matter? Can’t you swim?”

“Yes, I can swim! Very well, thank you.”

“You seem nervous,” he goaded her.

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

“Am—”

“Cut it out, you two. Let’s go.” Charles held out his arm to Johanna and led the way. Liz and Darby had no choice but to fall in behind.

***

Liz slowed her steps when Johanna became winded. The waves of the lake lapped up against the rocks to their left. To their right, a ring of trees and a battered park bench beckoned. Just behind them, Darby and Charles worked on readying the boat. Liz took Johanna’s elbow and pointed, and they stopped for a rest. Johanna sat down, breathing in deeply—without coughing, Liz noted, which was an improvement.

Johanna looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. “Cara’s brother, he is so…” She fished for the word in English before giving up and reverting back to Hungarian. “…
lovagias
.”

“Gallant? Yes, I suppose he is. And handsome, which a man should be if at all possible.”

Johanna blushed. “America must be full of handsome men.”

“If only it were so.”

“They are all handsome in movies.”

“That’s movies, though, not real life.”

“I guess you are right.”

“You haven’t met my annoying colleague at the embassy yet, have you?”

A laugh bubbled out, and Johanna covered it with her hand. “No, but I hear you speak enough to understand that it is no matter how he looks; he makes you…annoyed. Is that how you say it?”

“That’s how I’d say it.”

“Can you explain something?”

“I’ll try.”

“I think about what you say this morning. Cara, she is married, yes?”

“Yes, she is.”

“I hear that all Americans are…hmm…most have open marriage. They do not honor a marriage vow. Now, I am adult. I do not believe such things, but if Cara and Mr. Kent are…then perhaps…”

“No, of course not. I mean adultery happens, but it’s not at all respectable. You know how that goes. I’m sure those things happen in Hungary too.”

Johanna shrugged. “I know nothing about it. I am a sheltered girl. My father made it so.”

Charles approached them. “Are you ready for an adventure?”

“Yes, definitely!” Popping up from her bench, Johanna took a step toward him and tripped over a tree root.

“Easy there.” Charles caught her arm and steadied her, and they shared a moment intimate enough to compel Liz to look away. She bit her lip to hide a smile, one that truly disappeared when she saw Darby frowning at them.

“Stick in the mud. Hypocrite,” she muttered under her breath.

***

“I wish I spent more time on the lake when I was a child,” Johanna commented. “See, my mother died. I was four, and after, Apa and I spend most of our time in Budapest. I think it is lonely for him to be here without her. My mother was from the Balaton, but we never come back—not even for holidays.”

“It must have been rough.” Charles put a guiding hand on hers. She was standing next to him in the stern pulpit, her hands on the wheel. He called out, “Ready, Liz?”

Liz looked back from her station by the winch. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Hoist the main sail.”

She began turning the crank, raising the sail. At first, it went quickly, but as the sail rose and caught the wind, the crank became harder and harder to turn.

“Give her a hand, Darby.”

Darby appeared right behind her, his eyes unreadable behind sunglasses, a small smile playing about his lips. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“I can do it.”

“Not before we get blown off course. I don’t mind helping. It’s the first time you’ve been sailing, and the fact that men have better upper body strength is just a result of biomechanics, not an evil plot to disempower you.”

“I have plenty of upper body strength. I swim, and I’ve trained in self-defense techniques. I’ve even been known to lift weights when I was back home.”

“A woman of many accomplishments.” Darby’s eyes raked over her, his chin tilting up and down to draw attention to his notice of her. “Nothing wanting in your upper body, Liz.”

“Say any kind of stupid misogynistic remark you like. My courage rises with every attempt to intimidate me.”

“No doubt.” He nudged her aside and cranked the sail up the last couple of feet. “You did a fine job—for a girl.” He tossed a grin back at Charles while Liz bumped him with her hip and took her station back.

“Women today are so much more accomplished than they were even just a few years ago.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Charles?” Darby moved over to the winch and began to hoist the jib.

“They’ve entered the workforce in droves since the Sixties, become more interested in politics, more involved in athletics, and yet…” He glanced at Johanna. “They retain their goodness in a way men don’t.”

“You have a distorted definition of ‘accomplishment.’ Accomplished women should be intelligent and capable, no doubt. In addition, I personally appreciate it when they’re pleasing to look at…” His eyes darted to Liz, staring at the horizon with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

Darby continued. “But a bigger accomplishment is the development of intellect through education and lifelong learning. And still, adding to all of that, an accomplished woman has to have a strong character. In other words, she has to have guts. In their recent attempts to grab the spotlight, I think many modern women have lost sight of those qualities.”

“Your ideal woman is a fantasy,” Liz replied. “She doesn’t exist.”

“Then, it’s a good thing I can still enjoy less than ideal.”

Liz pursed her lips in annoyance. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Grab the spotlight? What does that even mean? A woman isn’t grabbing the spotlight if she’s naturally gifted at her job and receives her due for it. The way things are, even now in the 1980s, a woman has to toot her own horn to get noticed. How would people know if she were accomplished or not if she were tucked away where no one saw her capabilities, if she had to stay in some low-level position all her life? The glass ceiling is real, Darby Kent. And I, for one, plan to break through it.”

“I would never question your determination.” He swept his hand forward in a gallant bow, accompanied by a smile, but Liz had turned away in annoyance and missed it.

“I think,” Johanna interrupted quietly, “that many women have qualities you speak of, Mr. Kent. Only most people do not notice them yet.”

“Exactly. What she said.” Charles gave Johanna a brilliant smile.

When I first met you, I thought, perhaps I’d made a mistake, taking this road of double agent. You seemed so together, so free of doubt, so unencumbered. So damned moral. I envied you that. But it doesn’t bear considering now. That crossroads, between spy par excellence and double-dealing traitor happened for me a long time ago. You seem to have it all, but I realize no one is without burdens. No one—not even you.

Chapter 8

June 1982

Liz and Johanna stood at the sink rinsing vegetables. Darby had offered to make his
famous
Hungarian goulash soup for dinner, and Johanna, being the polite creature she was, had expressed enough interest for him to go out for additional ingredients.

Liz took some tomatoes out of a bowl to wash them. “And there I was, stranded in a bar, the only female in the place who wasn’t covered in leather, saying to the bartender, ‘Excuse me, sir, can I use the phone?’”

Johanna laughed and pulled open a drawer. “Knives are in here? I can never remember.”

“You should let Chef Darby do his own chopping.”

“I do not mind. He does much for me. It is the least I can do.”

“Johanna, all these things he’s doing for you, he’s not doing them out of the goodness of his heart. It’s his job—nothing more and nothing less. Lucky for you, his job is the most important thing to him. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I think there is more to him.”

“You tell yourself that enough times, and you’re liable to get in serious trouble.”

The door slammed, and Darby walked through, a cloth sack in one hand and a troubled expression on his face. He walked over to the counter, emptied his sack, and took out a battered envelope with dirt in the creases.

“Where have you been all day?” Liz teased him. “It doesn’t take four hours to buy a few vegetables. Is Cara in town?”

He stared at her, and then walked over to the stereo, and turned on the music.

Liz stilled, her face instantly sober. The music was his way of conveying that someone might be listening in. It was so idyllic here at Lake Balaton, she’d almost forgotten she was still at cross-purposes with the Hungarian government—an unwanted stranger in a strange land. “What is it?”

In response, he opened the envelope and handed it to her. She read, and looked up at him, eyes wide. “How did they—?”

“I don’t know. I met Collins this morning in Székesfehérvár. He told me he’s heard from two sources inside state security that American intelligence officers are planning to help a female informant escape to the West. They are sending orders to checkpoints and border patrols to be on the lookout for a Hungarian woman with an American man exiting the country.”

“But I am not informant!” Johanna’s face was white with fear.

“It doesn’t matter, Johanna. If you’re arrested, we can’t protect you; you’re a Hungarian citizen. They will interrogate you, and if they are successful, your father is in danger…”

“Apa!”

“…as well as any of us you’ve learned about.”

“Charles…” She gasped in distress.

“He’s in Vienna. I telephoned him a coded message this morning telling him not to come back to Hungary. Cara and Louis have diplomatic immunity, and that covers Liz, Bill, and me to a certain extent. But, I don’t think Liz and I could make it back to the embassy now, so even that protection is iffy.”

Out of habit, Liz translated this information into Hungarian.

Johanna sat heavily in the chair. “So I am not going anywhere? Except maybe prison.”

Liz hurried over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll find another way out, won’t we, Darby?”

“We’ll have to. Since he showed up here unexpectedly, we considered having Charles be the one to escort you out, using our usual channels. But that can’t happen now. One source told Collins the government believes the escape will be through Bratislava to Prague, but the other source indicates they are also suspecting alternate routes.”

“And you can’t take Johanna with you, Darby, because you can’t pass for Hungarian.”

Darby’s lips twisted in a sarcastic smile. “Yep, the agency screwed me royally there, didn’t they? If we’d been in the USSR or Czechoslovakia, I could blend in without a hitch.”

“Perhaps I could take her?”

He shook his head. “My guess is they’ll look hard at any American leaving the country now.” He gestured outside to the garden. “You’ll forgive me, Johanna, but I need to speak to Liz alone. The less you know about all of this, the better, in case…”

Johanna looked up, her eyes shiny with tears, and nodded.

Darby led Liz out to the gazebo in the center of the Alsómező property. He gestured for her to sit, but she declined.

“You know, you might not be able to pass for Hungarian, but maybe German…?”

“There’s more.”

“More?”

“I believe we may be dealing not only with a one-time information leak, but perhaps with a double agent.”

Her eyes narrowed. Was he trying to throw suspicion on someone in order to deflect it from himself? “What do you mean?”

“Darby Kent’s picture is circulating as the case officer to look for at the border. That’s much more specific information than a run-of-the-mill lapse in security.”

“I see.” Liz wondered if he had leaked his own identity. It would be an easy way to get back to the Soviets—but why? Why would he compromise himself to the Americans when he was placed to learn so much more information with his Darby Kent cover intact? It made little sense.

“So like Johanna, I can’t get back to the embassy. Can’t leave through Prague. Can’t stay here—as state security could easily learn my whereabouts. This place isn’t commonly known as the ambassador’s vacation spot, but it isn’t a closely guarded secret either. Lake Balaton would be an obvious choice if they were to come looking for me.”

“Even more so because Cara flaunted her relationship with you.”

He squirmed a little. “Her flirtatious behavior definitely made a bad situation worse.”

Liz laughed without humor. “For all of us. What makes you suspect a double agent rather than just good surveillance on the part of the secret police?”

“I’m much better at covering my tracks than the Hungarian government is at discovering them, for one thing.”

“So, it couldn’t be that you messed up, could it?”

“Highly unlikely.”

Typical arrogance
,
according to George Wickham.

“Plus, there was a…” He paused, looking uncomfortable, reluctant.

“Yes?” Would he tell her about George and Jirina? Spin it in his favor to garner her sympathy?

“A situation during my last assignment. A sloppy officer who made a mistake that cost us an…asset.” He looked away. “At least, I thought it was only a mistake—until this happened. Perhaps we had a double agent even then.”

Liz couldn’t believe he was going to try to pin
this
situation on George Wickham. George wasn’t even in country! “So you think the person who leaked our mission here is the same person who botched your job in Prague.”

“Could be. I wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility, but it could be a dozen others or maybe someone I don’t even know.”

He gestured with his hand as if to waive that idea away. “But we’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment. I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“There is a new vintner near Sopron.” He looked at her with wry amusement. “Part of my job is to find and encourage Western-style commerce, within the letter of communist law, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway, there’s a grape grower in the lake region near here. He’s an agency asset—has been for years—long before I came to Hungary. Part of his crop goes to the state, but he makes his own wine, too, and sells to the place in Sopron for a little cash on the side. He’s also trying to break into Austrian wine country and trade with them, either his own wine or his grapes. So he has a reason to go both to the border and beyond it—and most importantly, the papers to do so. I think he can drive us out, but he needs some plausible deniability about why he’s going and what’s in his truck. So we’d go hidden in his cargo. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m the one escorting you and Johanna?”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but the truck isn’t big enough to hide three of us, and you’re the only one not being sought by state security at the moment.”

“If I try to pass myself off as Hungarian, they’ll want to check me at the border, thinking I might be Johanna.”

“But you’ll be with my asset, the grape grower. That should diminish suspicion. Plus, your Hungarian is impeccable.” He gestured toward the house. “I forged you a passport in case of an emergency. It’s in my desk drawer.”

Liz nibbled on the end of her thumb as she paced back and forth.

Darby put out a hand to stop her but drew it back before he could touch her. “Look, I completely understand your nerves. Perhaps you don’t believe you’re ready to run an op like this. Frankly, I have some doubts myself, but our options are limited.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming.”

“It isn’t a matter of faith, Liz. I’m sure this is the most precarious situation you’ve faced since joining the agency. I need to get out of Hungary before there’s enough suspicion for them to call me in for questioning. I know too much to be arrested. It would ruin my career, but even more important, if they could get the information out of me, I could compromise many of the officers in Central Europe. This escape plan is dicey and it’s dangerous, and I would be hard put to successfully run this op myself. I’m reluctant to hand it over to a rookie, but I don’t have any choice.”

Perhaps she could see his point. But still…

“I can do it.”

He smiled at her. “Atta girl. Now, here’s what I’m thinking…”

***

They couldn’t take the farm truck across the border at night. Nighttime would give them the cover of darkness, but nothing would arouse more suspicion than to take wine and produce to Austria after dark.

In addition to Prague, Sopron was a popular escape route from Budapest to the West. Therefore, Darby judged the Hungarians would beef up the border patrols along those routes. He also knew that more guards at Sopron meant fewer guards at the other checkpoints along the Austrian border. It was becoming increasingly difficult for the Hungarians to man every station the way they had in the early years of Communist rule. Guard shacks and barracks were run down, Soviets were called home, and personnel were cut back in favor of other “necessities.” With that in mind, he and Peter, the grape farmer turned spy, had plotted a course from Keszthely, on the western edge of Lake Balaton, heading west to Körmend, then north to Szombathely and on to Kőszeg near the Austrian border. Once in Austria proper, they would just head north to Vienna, unimpeded.

“There was some government activity on the road from here to Keszthely yesterday,” Darby informed Liz while he burned their courier’s message in the fireplace at Alsómező. It was a couple of hours before dawn, and they had planned to take Darby’s car into the lakeside town. The music on the shortwave radio played to mask their voices, an anomaly in the early morning quiet.

“So, do we wait another day?” Liz asked.

“No more waiting—we need to get out of Hungary. We’ll go another way.” He glanced up at her, calm and collected as always. “By water. But we’re taking a little motorboat. The sailboat is too easily recognized, and the wind too unreliable.”

“Where did you get this boat?”

He let out a laugh devoid of humor. “I stole it. Peter will return it if possible. I will have to abandon the agency’s car, which is unfortunate, but maybe the ambassador can put it to good use.”

“We’re abandoning quite a lot here in Hungary.”

“True enough. I’m sorry about your apartment, Liz. Did you have anything irreplaceable there? Anything I can try and get for you?”

She shrugged. “Nothing my friend Mary can’t pack up and forward out through diplomatic channels. Although I wasn’t talking just furniture and things. We have to leave behind some good intelligence channels we’d begun to cultivate—and, of course, we’re leaving behind our assets and other agency people. Have you heard from Bill Collins?”

“No, I decided to keep the details of Johanna’s escape off the official information chain. Bill is in the embassy, so he’s safe there for the moment. By the time he gets wind of what we’re doing, we’ll already be in Vienna. It gives him plausible deniability about our plans, which he needs sorely, the schmuck. I swear I don’t know how he made it through training.”

“I’ve wondered that myself at times.” Liz preferred to talk about the subject at hand, however. “How will we find our ride, given this change in mode of transportation to Keszthely?”

“Our driver thought this might happen, so he arranged to meet us near an abandoned factory, just in case. It will be about a half-mile walk from the boat dock to his truck. Is Johanna up for that, do you think?”

“I think so,” Liz said, grateful that they had been working on the young woman’s stamina. Who knew that she would have to sneak her way out of Hungary this soon?

“How’s she holding up?”

“Physically, she’s fine.”

“And psychologically?”

“She’s frightened but resigned to her fate, whatever it turns out to be. But, Darby, we have to get her out safely. I don’t know how she could possibly withstand incarceration, even for a short period of time.”

“You’ve become too attached to your asset, Liz. It speaks well of your compassion, but it’s a rookie’s mistake—one that can have far-reaching damage, trust me. If it comes down to it, you have to be willing to leave her behind.”

“Good God, Darby! Could you leave that sweet young woman behind to be arrested…or worse?”

“If it was necessary, I could. I have done that very thing. Intelligence work is a lot of thinking and planning and writing reports, but at certain times, it requires ruthlessness. You know this. Our mission is bigger than one person.”

“I understand that, or I thought I did, it’s just…”

“It’s harder when your asset has a face.” His smile was almost sympathetic, but then his expression became tougher, more distant. “But you must do it, even when—maybe especially when—the stakes are high.” He turned toward the sound of steps on the stairs. “Are you ready, Johanna?”

“Yes.” In spite of the early hour, Johanna was wide-awake, her blue-green eyes sad in her pale face.

“No papers on you, are there?”

“No. Just like you said, no papers, no photos—nothing but the clothes on my back.”

“Good. Spy Rule Number Five: No papers on you when you’re sneaking around
anywhere
. That way, if the worst happens, and we are separated from Liz and Peter, we can pretend to be an American couple, robbed and set out on the highway. I might be able to pull that off. I’ll do the talking; you pretend you are dumb with shock.”

Johanna looked, frightened, at Liz, who translated into Hungarian.

“That deer in headlights look you’re sporting right now is perfect,” he muttered.

Johanna frowned as she translated his last words while Liz stared at him, dumbfounded at his insult.

Johanna’s face broke into a wry smile. “No pretending.” The smile faded. “I will do my best, Mr. Kent.”

***

They walked along a wooded path to the ambassador’s boat dock, and there, tied up next to the sailboat was a small runabout that smelled of fish. Darby stepped down with one foot, and turned, leaving the other on the dock while he handed Johanna, and then Liz into the boat.

“We’ll row out to the middle of the lake before we start the motor.”

Liz took the oars next to her seat, and Darby smiled in admiration at her initiative.
His
rookie would never wait around for someone else to take over the physical work. Somehow, her typical spunky behavior settled him. “Can you row a straight line, Ms. Hertford?”

“I may not be able to sail worth a damn, but I can row anywhere.”

“Carry on then.”

Fortunately, the lake was calm. The dark pressed around them, and every once in a while, there was the sound of a fish breaking the surface. Once they got out on the water, Darby started the motor, and they puttered slowly down the lake. Off starboard, the large, black leviathan of shoreline kept pace, looming over them in the cool, predawn air. Although there was no one around to hear, they kept their voices just barely above a whisper.

A sudden breeze blew Liz’s hair in a swirling dark cloud around her head. Darby couldn’t see her face clearly in the darkness, but that just brought the light and pleasing outline of her figure to his attention. He felt this visceral pull between them, an impulse he tried to attribute to the danger in which they found themselves. Adrenaline pumped through him, making him hyperaware to every sight and sound and to her every twitch of movement. It was odd; he’d not felt this way when he fled Prague last year. But then he was reeling from losing Jirina. This time, both his charges were right here under his watchful eye, and Wickham was an ocean and half a continent away in Washington. At least this time, Officer William Darcy was in control of their collective fate.