The young woman stood on the darkened airfield, a light breeze moving across the grass, and Vera Atkins took one last look at her. She checked the seams of the jacket, the inside of the collar, the pockets, searching for anything that might betray an English origin. There was nothing. No labels, no railway tickets, no cigarette packets.

Everything looked as French as possible. “There,” Vera said. “You’re clean. ”

Noor Inayat Khan smiled.

“You’re so smart, Miss Atkins. You always wear the nicest things. ”

Vera reached into her own pocket and pressed something into Noor’s hand. “Here.

It’s yours. May it bring you luck. ”

The girl’s fingers closed around it. “Thank you, Miss Atkins.

”

“Are you ready? ”

“Yes, Miss Atkins. ”

They both knew what that meant. Noor was about to be dropped into the French countryside behind enemy lines.

She was the first female wireless operator the Special Operations Executive had ever infiltrated into occupied France, and she was going in against the advice of nearly every instructor who had trained her. But that was not the part Vera would carry with her for the rest of her life. That came later, when the war was over, when she went looking for the women she had sent, and found what the Nazis had done to them. Vera Atkins was not an easy woman to know.

Born in Romania, she had spent the 1930s working under cover for MI6, traveling across Europe as an interpreter for the Palace Oil Company. Romania was an ally of Nazi Germany, which made Vera an enemy alien in Britain, and she had kept that secret fiercely. Only one man knew the truth about her past, and that man was Maurice Buckmaster, the head of SOE’s F section. In the early years of the war, F section was the engine of Churchill’s grand scheme to set Europe ablaze.

The Prime Minister had sanctioned the Special Operations Executive in 1940, a secret agency known unofficially as the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. Its task was to disrupt the Nazi war machine from within, to arm the French Resistance, to launch acts of sabotage, and to prepare the ground for the Allied invasion of France that would one day come. France was divided into circuits, networks of agents and operatives kept separate from one another so that if one was compromised, the others would not fall. The largest and most important of these was the Prosper circuit in Paris.

Each circuit was led on the ground by an organizer, who contacted London to request the weapons, explosives, and money the Resistance needed to fight. And each circuit desperately needed wireless operators, the men and women who sat hunched over bulky transmitters, tapping out Morse code messages to London while the Germans listened. By the beginning of 1942, the German listening devices were closing in. They could hear the tap, tap, tap of a Morse key, and within minutes they could trace where the signal was coming from.

Wireless operators were dropping like flies. Their average life expectancy was six weeks. The circuits were in crisis. Colonel Colin Gubbins, the head of all SOE sections, proposed a controversial solution: deploy women.

Women could move through French society far more easily than men. Men of military age were stopped on the streets, their papers checked, often taken away for interrogation. Women remained invisible. But there was a catch.

Sending women into combat was illegal under British law. They wore no military uniform, and without that uniform they had no protection under the Geneva Convention. If captured, they could be tortured, killed, or treated in any way the Germans chose. There was no legal recourse, no international protection.

They would be unclassified, invisible, and entirely on their own. Whitehall civil servants were appalled. They tried to block Gubbins’ proposal. But this was wartime, and in April 1942, at a meeting of the British War Cabinet, Winston Churchill secretly nodded the plan through.

Buckmaster, who had spent his earlier career as a marketing executive for the Ford Motor Company in France, spoke perfect French and understood the country intimately. He knew the risk he was taking. He knew that if word got out that Britain was sending young women to their deaths, there would be a public uproar. Their own necks were on the line.

So the secret had to be absolute, kept even within SOE itself. That was why Vera’s discretion mattered so much. Buckmaster’s second-in-command, Nicolas Bodington, knew it too. A former Reuters correspondent who had traveled across Europe, Bodington was unorthodox and a bit of a hustler, the kind of man who could get things moving fast.

He also knew Vera. When the question came up of who could take charge of the new division and find the women, Bodington raised her name. “Vera is fine. How about Vera to handle the whole thing?

”

Buckmaster hesitated. “Vera? She’s volunteered? Buck, she’s your secretary.

Junior staff officer now, but she’s not one of us. ”

“There are certain things omitted from her file. Work she’s done before the war for MI6, work on the continent,” Bodington replied. Buckmaster still had doubts.

“But she’s an enemy alien. How far can we trust her? ”

“You’ve seen her at work. You’ve seen how she handles things here.

She’s thorough. She’s organized, calm, but above all, she’s discreet. God knows we need someone to keep this whole thing a secret. ”

They called her in.

Vera walked into Buckmaster’s office. “Miss Atkins. You wanted me, sir. ”

“Please, come in.

”

Bodington was there. “Vera. I hear you volunteered for a promotion. ”

“I just want to do my bit where I am useful.

”

“Taking charge of the new division of F section. You’ll be a busy girl. You think you’re qualified? ” Buckmaster asked.

“I do have some experience. Before the war in Europe. As an interpreter for an oil company based in Romania. ”

“Romania.

Allied to the Nazis. ”

“I was employed to do a little more than interpreting. Besides, it would hardly be a new division, Nicholas. I would just be helping to share the load with some of you overburdened men.

”

Buckmaster didn’t press further. He told her plainly what she was volunteering for. “Vera, this business of women agents. Do you understand what you’ve volunteered?

”

“Yes, sir. I do. ”

“And you understand it must be kept secret at all times. Most secret.

Our eyes only. ”

“Very good. And you’ll handle deploying these women to France. ”

“First, sir, I shall need to find them.

”

That single decision would change the course of Vera’s life, and she would spend the rest of her days living with its consequences. SOE needed women agents in the field, especially couriers and wireless operators. Vera began to interview candidates. One morning, a young woman sat across the desk from her.

Noor Inayat Khan had an extraordinary background. She was born in Moscow to an Indian father and an American mother, and the family had moved to France when she was young. She was descended from royalty in India, and her father was a Sufi preacher. Sufism, a branch of Islam that believed in music and meditation, filled their home with an open, welcoming spirit.

Her father taught Noor that you never tell a lie. “You were educated at the Sorbonne in Paris,” Vera said. “Yes, Miss Atkins. ”

“And afterwards became an author.

”

“Yes. I write short stories for children. ”

“I see. You arrived in England in 1940?

”

“Yes. After the Nazis invaded, my family left France. We escaped here. ”

“I see you joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.

”

“Yes, but I want to work in intelligence. And you currently serve as a wireless operator. ”

“Yes, Miss Atkins. ”

Vera knew the Prosper circuit was pushing for another wireless operator.

Noor was highly skilled in Morse, spoke fluent French, and fitted the profile perfectly. But the job carried terrible dangers. “Noor, do you want to make a difference in this war? ”

“Yes, Miss Atkins.

”

“Are you prepared to take the fight to the Nazis? ”

“Yes. ”

“Behind enemy lines, in occupied France? As a spy?

”

“Yes, Miss Atkins. ”

“There are certain dangers. As a woman, you wouldn’t be covered by the Geneva Convention. If you’re caught, the chances of survival are slim.

Do you understand? ”

“Yes, I do, Miss Atkins. ”

“You will need to sign the Official Secrets Act, and your training will begin shortly. Welcome to SOE.

From now on, I’ll be looking after you. ”

In the Surrey and Hampshire countryside, Noor and the other new recruits began a crash course in spycraft. They ran at dawn, then sat through lessons on how to live in France. They learned tiny intricacies: in a café, put the milk in the tea last, not first, the opposite of an English habit.

When crossing the street, look left first, because an English person instinctively looks right. Any slip could identify them and blow their cover. They also learned violence. Silent killing with bare hands.

Close combat with knives and daggers. They learned to shoot. Some agents took to it easily. Noor did not.

Her training report said she was terrified of the weapons and deeply uncomfortable using them. It also said she became despondent and gloomy. Her wireless training went better. She spent hour after hour learning the complex coding layered on top of plain Morse, a system difficult to crack and even more difficult to learn.

She became excellent at it. But there was another problem, one that went to the core of who Noor was. As the child of Sufis, she had been raised never to lie. During a training exercise in the English countryside, her mission was to place secret messages in safe houses called letter boxes on a street patrolled by a local policeman.

A constable stopped her. “Hey, you. What are you doing? ”

“I’m training to be a secret agent,” she said.

“What? ”

“Here’s my radio. Would you like to see it? ”

Noor would need to learn to lie to survive.

At about the same time, across the channel, one of Vera’s agents already in the field was excelling. Odette Sansom, a thirty-year-old Frenchwoman, had been assigned to the Spindle circuit near Annecy at the foot of the Alps. She was determined to free France from occupation and served as a courier for the circuit organizer, Peter Churchill. Every day she carried the most important messages across the circuit, walking in broad daylight under the noses of the Germans, always at risk, so far undetected.

In April 1943, Peter Churchill was called back to London for debriefing. In his absence, a man approached Odette. His name was Hugo Bleicher, and he worked for the Abwehr, German military intelligence. He told Odette he wanted to defect, to work for the Allies, and asked for her help getting out of France to Britain.

Odette contacted London. The request raised alarm bells. A directive at the founding of SOE was clear: if an enemy approached an agent wanting to defect, they should not only be ignored, they should be liquidated. Odette could be compromised.

If the Abwehr began making arrests, the entire circuit could be destroyed. London replied: “Colonel, highly dangerous. Odette is to cut ties with Spindle, relocate, and go into hiding. Arrange drop zone for Churchill’s return.

”

They sent Peter Churchill back to France to rescue the situation. Before he left, F section warned him that Odette was likely compromised and that he should have nothing to do with her until matters were sorted. But when he landed, she was there, waiting out of the darkness. He could not avoid her.

She took him back to her safe house, the very house F section had ordered her to abandon. “Oh, don’t worry. The German asked us to plan our flights back for the 18th. There’s still three more days till he’s back.

It’s time to move. ”

“What if the German changed his plan? ”

They were answered by a shout. “Hands up.

Turn around. Face the wall. Keep those hands up. No funny business.

Out. Move. ”

They had been captured. The report reached London.

Odette and Peter Churchill were being held at Fresnes Prison in Paris. Interrogation would begin soon. If Odette cracked and the Gestapo learned she was a British agent, she had no protection under the Geneva Convention. She could be executed immediately.

The question of how long she could hold out was one of the darkest in the entire war. It led directly to the most infamous part of SOE training: the mock interrogation. Bright lights in the eyes. Sleep deprivation.

Being doused in cold water. The instructors wanted to see how easily an agent would break. Noor was trembling during hers, even though she knew it was a drill. Her training officer said he found her interrogations almost unbearable to watch.

She came out trembling and blunt. By the time Noor’s latest reports reached London, they made for grim reading. Her instructors said she could run well but was clumsy in fieldcraft, clumsy with explosives and demolition. She tried hard, but natural clumsiness got in the way.

She was despondent, troubled, probably worried about deploying. Buckmaster dismissed the reports. “Look, not overburdened with brains. She’s very doubtful whether she’s really suited to work in the field.

We don’t want them overburdened with brains. This report is total bollocks. What do these instructors know? Sat behind a desk in a training camp.

Makes me cross. ”

But he knew the truth. He needed female agents behind enemy lines. The Prosper circuit was the largest in France and would play a crucial role ahead of D-Day.

Its organizer, Francis Suttill, needed a wireless operator. It was one of the most dangerous jobs for an SOE agent. “Sir, Noor’s wireless training reports. They are excellent.

”

“Prosper desperately require a wireless operator. But Noor hasn’t finished training yet. ”

“I see something in this girl, sir. ”

“Think she’s ready as she’s going to be.

”

At that point in the war, SOE had no choice. “Well, Miss Atkins, let’s give them a wireless operator. ”

Noor was pulled out of training early. Before she left, Vera called her in.

“I need to clear something up. Your training reports. They say that lately you’ve fallen into a gloom. ”

“No.

”

“And that you’re worried about being deployed to France. No. Miss Atkins, who said that? ”

“You know, Noor, deploying to France is a very serious business.

If you’re worried, if you have concerns, it’s not too late to back out. You’re not sure you’re the right person. If you aren’t certain that you want to go, you can tell me. We can transfer you out.

”

“Miss Atkins, no. ”

“The most important thing in this business is trust. Trust in your fellow agents and their trust in you. That is life and death.

The worst thing you can do is go out there and let them down. ”

“Miss Atkins, I’m the right person for the job. You can trust me on that. I want to go.

”

“Well, then, why this report of a gloom? ”

“My mother. She’s not been well. If I go missing out there, I don’t know how she’ll take it.

”

“Oh, I see. ”

“If I do go missing, please can you bother her as little as possible? ”

“Of course. While you’re out there, I will be sure to send her a good newsletter every now and then.

”

“Thank you, Miss Atkins. ”

“Very good, Noor. In that case, here is your cover story. ”

She would work in France as a children’s nurse.

Her alias would be Madeleine. Her code name as a wireless operator was Nurse. “This evening, you will depart for your mission. You will be flown by moonlight to the Loire Valley, southwest of Paris.

Once landed, you will be met by SOE agent Henri Déricourt. ”

Déricourt was a mysterious figure. A former Air France pilot and a smuggler before the war, he had a gift for flying by the seat of his pants, for getting out of difficult situations, for knowing where a plane could land and where it could not. He was the perfect choice for F section.

He would hand a package to be flown back to England, and he would bring back uncoded letters from agents in the Prosper circuit. If those letters fell into German hands, the security implications could be severe. “Any questions? ”

“Good.

”

Vera carried out one final security check. She went over Noor’s clothing, searching for labels, English writing, anything out of place. When she was finished, she pressed a small gift into Noor’s hand. May it bring you luck.

On a field twelve kilometers northeast of Angers, in the Loire Valley, by the light of the full moon, Noor’s plane touched down. A man was waiting for her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe with me.

”

She was the first female wireless operator infiltrated into France. It was an incredibly important moment for Vera and for SOE. At F section, they waited for news. On the 24th of June 1943, a message came from Francis Suttill.

Noor had almost been arrested at a letter box Suttill claimed was blown. If she had gone there the day before, she would have walked into a Gestapo search of the safe house. Suttill said he hadn’t slept in days. Something was wrong.

He was canceling all letter boxes and passwords until London could confirm that the village postman had recovered. He was shutting down everything. He couldn’t trust anybody. Anybody could be a double agent.

Everybody was in danger. “If you aren’t willing to accept my recommendation, please file this report under the death of the Prosper circuit. ”

At headquarters, the reaction was alarm. Noor had been dropped into the eye of a storm.

Did the Nazis simply get a lucky break, or was there a double agent? Until they found out, no one was safe. In Paris, Noor laid low in a safe house, doing her best to send updates to London. But after only eight days in France, the Prosper circuit was in chaos.

The Gestapo were making arrests. Safe houses were being raided. “Are they coming for us? ”

“You have to move.

”

The knock came at the door.