Necessary Evil (Milkweed Triptych)

Necessary Evil (Milkweed Triptych) by Ian Tregillis Page B

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Authors: Ian Tregillis
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together those frantic minutes during the chase and her escape. He couldn’t stop watching it in his head, the way the Jerry agent jumped through solid walls like they weren’t there at all. Marsh could see they had weaknesses. The batteries, for one. And the ghost bloke couldn’t breathe when he was in that state. But that seemed a thin thread upon which to hang the faintest hope.
    Gretel—they knew her name now, for all the good that did—had known that bloke with the wraith ability was coming for her. The extraction had worked too cleanly for the operation to have been improvised. Von Westarp’s people had planned this from the beginning. Why?
    And worse, how did they know where she’d be? That was the question prickling Marsh’s spine with needles of dread. The question that sapped his strength, for it was too heavy to budge. The Admiralty building was off the beaten path for SIS. The old man had chosen to put Milkweed HQ there for that reason. Gretel’s rescuer hadn’t made a lucky guess. He’d known.
    And what was she? What could she do?
    Whatever the answer, she and her rescuer were far away by now. Probably halfway to the coast at this hour. Together with Lorimer and Stephenson, Marsh had worked the phones, putting feelers out, quietly alerting every constabulary in southern England. But Marsh knew they wouldn’t turn up anything.
    “‘Long day,’ he says. Hmmm.” Liv studied his face. Her expression softened in the way that meant she was finished teasing him for a bit. A frown creased the bridge of her nose, rippled her freckles, tugged at her eyebrows. “It’s more than that.”
    And she was right. As she often was. Because on top of the demoralizing and humiliating defeat they’d suffered at the hands of the Schutzstaffel tonight, there was also the issue of Will’s encounter in the park. Marsh didn’t quite know what to make of that. But the poor fellow did have a bruise where he said the stranger clocked him with a briefcase. Will was having a bad week.
    As were they all. Because if the bloke who rolled him in the park was a naval officer … The ease of Gretel’s escape suggested a mole. Will’s story, if true to the details, only corroborated that. Though it would take a rather bold kind of mole to show himself to Will like that. Very odd.
    Ever since Marsh had returned from Spain, odd things had only meant trouble.
    Liv was right. A long day, but so much more.
    “Come,” she said. She pulled him inside, to where Agnes dozed in her bassinet. Marsh followed, half tripping while he kicked off his shoes. He collapsed into an armchair. Liv snuggled in beside him. She pulled his head to her shoulder. They swayed in time with her breathing. He listened to her heartbeat. She understood him so well. He could be vulnerable with her, and she knew when he needed it. And in spite of all the shit, she loved him. Sometimes Marsh felt as though Liv was his only human credential.
    “Tell me,” she said.
    Would that I could, Liv. Marsh cracked his knuckles. But what could he tell her? The truth, of sorts. I failed you, Liv. I failed Agnes. I can’t protect you.
    “Hitler kicked us in the bollocks today.”
    “Don’t let him do that too often,” said Liv. “Agnes will need a little brother or sister soon.”
    His daughter’s face wasn’t as red as it had been when he’d first met her. But still her eyes and lips were scrunched under little creases of baby fat, as though her dreams were matters of deep concentration.
    “Have you thought more about sending her to your aunt?”
    Liv’s chest swelled with a long, steadying breath. “Something terrible has happened. Something you can’t say.”
    “Yes.” What could he tell her? Again, he settled for simple truth. “I’m afraid things may get worse, much worse, before they get better. We’d do well by Agnes to keep Williton in mind.”
    Liv sighed. “If we must.”
    They held each other. Marsh closed his eyes. Drifted with the sound of

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