I watch and wait as the train unloads.

Gusts of steam and wind pull some of my hair loose from its knot, ruffle my skirt. I pay little attention to that, keeping my gaze on the faces in the windows of the train.

Security is tight. Volkspolizei officers are everywhere in their gray-green uniforms, spot-checking the papers of the passengers as they disembark. I avoid looking at them, but one of the VoPo men notices me, and steps closer.

“Waiting for someone special?” he asks.

My German is imperfect, so I keep my answer short. “My sister.”

“Not a husband, then?” His eyes drag slowly down my body, then back up. “You and your sister need help getting home, gorgeous?”

I blush, duck my head shyly.

“Too good to even answer the question, are you?” the officer laughs.

He takes another step towards me, but one of the other VoPo officers tugs on his arm. From the corner of my eye, I watch his black service boots retreating.

I look up again, resuming my search for the right face in the crowd.

And there she is, just making her way off of the train. Miraculously skipped by the officers examining passports, Sparrow descends unimpeded onto the platform, her skirt billowing in the puffs of steam.

My eyes first take in her face, then drop to her neck. She’s wearing a blue silk scarf around her throat. Fashionable, but that’s not the point. If she wasn’t wearing the scarf - or if the scarf wasn’t blue - I wasn’t supposed to approach.

But she is, so I do.

My French is much better than my German, thankfully. I switch gears, dust it off.

“There’s my beautiful sister!” I call out, waving, already halfway to Sparrow. I reach her quickly, and take her by the arms. “Look at you!”

I pull her into a close, extended embrace, which she returns.

“I can’t believe I made it to you,” Sparrow whispers, in the cover provided by the hug. Her voice is shaking badly, and so are her hands. “They were demanding people’s papers on the train, I thought that-”

“Hush,” I say, very softly. “Ears are everywhere. You’re my sister, remember? Act the part. Not another word out of character. If you want to make it out alive, do as I say.”

I draw back from Sparrow, fix her with a warm smile. I try to pack it with comfort and familiarity, like we really are sisters, or at least like we’ve met before this moment. Like we recognized each other because we’re family, and not because we’d each been shown a photograph of the other.

I don't even know this woman’s real name, but her safety is my top priority.

We set off together down the platform, arm in arm. We pass the VoPo officer who tried to chat me up, and I indulge myself in a brief fantasy of kicking his legs out from under him. I imagine that doing so would throw his hot cup of coffee into his face. The idea is immensely satisfying.

I know that Sparrow is terrified, but she’s doing an admirable job of acting calm. Better than I expected, actually. She’s a scientist, not an agent, and in her head is very valuable information that her previous employer certainly wouldn’t want going over to the other side.

I don’t know what kind of scientist she is. I only know that Central Office was very happy when they heard that Sparrow wanted to defect. An escape was swiftly and quietly planned out for her.

Then blown, before it could even be put into motion. Sparrow’s own husband turned her in.

A warrant was immediately issued for her arrest. Overnight, the borders tightened and locked down. Every arm of the law in the country was tasked with apprehending her and bringing her in. And because this city is overrun with surveillance, there’s no sneaking around. We have to walk her through broad daylight - with only a change of hair color to disguise her - and hope she isn’t recognized.

At least the authorities are looking for a woman traveling alone, not a pair of sisters. But if Sparrow is caught, that’s it. People have disappeared and died for much less. And it’s not just the people in uniform that I’m worried about. It’s others like me.

Agents, blending in with the crowd.

The carefully constructed plan has gone up in smoke, so my assignment is to pull off an emergency extraction of the scientist, codename Sparrow.

She could be noticed and recognized at any moment. Part of me wonders if we’ve been clocked already.

I scan the platform as we head towards the exit, which is all the way at the opposite end. My eyes catch on a man walking some distance behind us. A breeze is rolling over the open-air platform, and it shifts one side of his suit jacket, but not the other.

Presumably because one side of his jacket is weighed down by a weapon.

I draw Sparrow to a stop at a snack stand, pretend to run my eyes over the offerings. The man behind us also stops, bending to tie his shoe. This strikes me as rather coincidental timing, and my heart sinks.

We’re blown already, and we haven’t even made it out of the train station.

“Mind if we make a detour to the bathroom?” I ask, and Sparrow shakes her head.

The bathrooms are down a short hallway, which is empty. A good place to set up an impromptu trap.

“Go in,” I whisper to Sparrow. “Get in a stall. Don’t come out unless it’s me who comes for you.”

Sparrow looks petrified at the idea, and for a horrible moment, I think she’s going to grab me, cling to me, give everything away. But she only nods, and slips into the women’s room.

I follow after her, but wait just inside the door, then step back out again.

As I thought, the man has followed us down the hallway. He didn’t expect me to come back out so fast, and he quickly diverts his path, heads into the men’s room.

He doesn’t want to strike here, then, or he would have taken this opportunity. He plans to tail us out of the station, do it in a less crowded area.

I wait a minute, making sure that no one else is coming down the hallway. Then I slip into the men’s room.

I wish that I had a support team, someone who could handle this while I get Sparrow safely out of here. But you work with what you’ve got.

The men’s room is, by all appearances, empty. I scan the stalls until I see a pair of men’s shoes and the legs of some trousers in the farthest one. He’s sitting down, I can tell by his feet. Waiting a minute, giving us time to emerge from the women’s room before he gets back on our tail.

I cross to the stall before he can identify the clicking sound of my high heels. Then I back up and kick the stall door in with all my strength, my skirt fanning around my leg.

The lock shatters, and the door crashes directly into his knees. He screams, the sound rebounding around the tiled bathroom.

I throw open the door, seize him by the tie, and yank him forward. He crumples down to the ground at my feet.

I hadn’t meant to destroy his kneecaps quite so thoroughly, but all the better: now he can’t follow us. I put my foot on the back of his neck, holding him in place while I extract the gun from his pocket, along with the photo he has of Sparrow.

I take the gun apart, tear up the photo. Then I toss everything into the bathroom trash can and leave him on the floor. He sends a torrent of curses after me, but that’s all he can do.

Sparrow lets out a sob of relief when she hears me calling through the stall door, and my heart softens at the little noise. I draw her out from her hiding place and take her chin in my fingers, looking down at her.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Take a breath. You’re doing very well.”

“You’re being nice,” she stammers, her voice thin. Her French is imperfect, like mine. “I know that I’m doing an awful job.”

“You’re in the most frightening situation of your life, Sparrow. Give yourself some credit.”

She blinks, looking at me through waterlogged eyes.

“Sparrow?” she whispers.

“That’s your codename. They didn’t tell you?”

She shakes her head. “I like it, though.”

I smile at her encouragingly, hand her a tissue. “Time to fly the coop, little bird.”

She lets out a strained laugh, then dabs her eyes dry.

Together, we venture back out into the train station. We need to move even faster, now, before that opposition agent is discovered in the men’s room. I take Sparrow’s hand, and we weave through the crowd, making for the door.

It feels like a miracle when we step out into the open air. I lead her around the side of the building, relief coursing through me.

Then we turn the corner, and I come to a dead stop.

The same VoPo officer who bothered me inside is now outside, smoking a cigarette. Directly next to the car I intended for us to get away in. I picked an abandoned alleyway to leave it in, so I could scope out threats more easily. An idea that’s now backfired. There’s no one else here, so the officer has already spotted us.

It’s too late to turn around and retreat. Doing so would look suspicious.

I don’t see another way around it, so we set off for the car. The VoPo sticks the cig into his mouth and rubs his hands together, like he’s just been delivered a remarkable gift.

“There you are, gorgeous,” he says, leering at us as we approach. “This your sister? What a treat. She’s just as pretty as you.”

I feel Sparrow tense at my side, and mentally will her to hold it together.

“Excuse us,” I say sweetly, making the switch back to German.

I unlock the passenger’s side door and open it up for Sparrow, but the officer puts his arm across it.

“Your sister doesn’t look like you,” he says, his eyes darting between us. “Matter of fact… show me your papers.”

I reach into my purse, rooting around for the forged passport that Command issued me last night.

“Or,” the officer says, “I can think of another way around this situation. No papers necessary.”

He’s staring at the both of us with something gleaming in his eyes. With the hand that isn’t blocking the car, he reaches for Sparrow.

Before he can touch her, I shove the car door shut, slamming his fingers in it.

He lets out a shocked howl of pain. I seize Sparrow’s hand, and we set off running down the street. I note with considerable horror that a little spray of blood from the officer’s destroyed fingers has spattered the chest of Sparrow’s blouse. She looks practically about to faint with fear, the color drained from her face, her eyes wild.

But maybe we can use this.

We crash to a stop at the end of the alley, looking out into traffic. The moment I see a car with a woman at the wheel, I rush forward, dragging Sparrow, and bang on the window.

The woman startles, then rolls it down.

“Please,” I say, pitching my voice up to a frantic falsetto. “My sister is very sick - she needs to go to the hospital right away! Her nose won’t stop bleeding, I don’t know what’s wrong! Can you help us?”

The woman leans forward to look at Sparrow, who is swaying on her feet with raw terror. She looks more than convincingly ill.

The woman unlocks her car. I herd Sparrow into the backseat, close the door after us.

Sparrow drops her head onto my shoulder, struggling to take a breath. I wrap an arm around her, then covertly button up her jacket, hiding the blood spatter.

A storm of police cars descends on the train station as our unknowing getaway driver turns the corner.

~~~~

I take us into the hospital, but only briefly, to put on a show for the driver. As soon as she’s gone, we step back outside.

It’s a long walk from the hospital to the little hotel. I use the opportunity to give Sparrow some quiet instructions.

“Every hotel room in this country is bugged,” I say in her ear, as we weave around the other people on the sidewalk. “You can't say whatever you want when we get in there. If you have something to tell me that you can’t say while maintaining our cover, you need to whisper. And keep it to a minimum.”

Sparrow nods silently, doesn’t answer.

“I’ll get you to a friendly embassy tomorrow, I promise,” I tell her. “We just need to let things cool off. You’ll be safe at the embassy, and they’ll come up with a way to get you out. Alright?”

Again, a silent nod.

The hotel room is airy, if small. I choose us a room facing a brick wall, because I don’t care to make things easy for a sniper. I close the curtains as soon as we step inside, but the evening breeze rolls in through the cracked windows.

Sparrow sits in silence at the end of the bed. I kneel before her, gently help her out of her jacket.

“You’ll want to take this off, too,” I tell her, tugging on her blood-speckled blouse.

She just looks at me, doesn’t move. But I suspect that having the blouse on is making things worse for her, so I tentatively undo the topmost button.

Her eyes drop to my hands, watching my fingers. I stop after the first button, hoping that she’ll undo the rest herself.

Instead, she tips forward, grabs my blouse, and kisses me.

Caught completely by surprise, I take Sparrow by the wrists and pull away from her.

“You don’t want this.” I keep my voice as quiet as possible, hyper-aware that there are unseen ears listening in. “You’re terrified, you’re vulnerable, your life just got tossed upside-down-”

“I do want this,” she interrupts, also whispering. “Since before we even met. Ever since the agent who put me on the train showed me your picture last night.”

I fall silent, caught by surprise again.

“I could die tonight,” Sparrow continues urgently. “Or tomorrow. And I’ve always - always wanted... if I die tomorrow, I just want to do this before I go. At least once.”

I stare up at her. I won’t say that I’m not tempted, because I am.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

She nods earnestly, gazing into my eyes.

I hesitate, thinking it over. “The room is bugged.”

“I won’t make a sound,” Sparrow promises. “I never do, anyways.”

I smile at her, getting to my feet. She blinks up at me, blushing, nervously clutching two handfuls of the sheets.

“You haven’t been with me, darling,” I whisper, and push her back onto the bed.

~~~~

“Another mission completed successfully, Leyla?” my handler asks.

He’s allowed to use my real name. Still, I wish he wouldn’t do it, especially not over the phone. Even if this is a secure embassy line.

“Yes. Codename Sparrow was delivered safely to the embassy this morning at oh-nine-hundred hours.”

“Any incidents?” he asks. “Besides the Stasi operative whose kneecaps you shattered in a public men’s room?”

I shrug innocently, though we’re thousands of miles apart, and he can’t see it.

“No. No incidents.”

Of course, there was an incident. An hours-long breach of protocol, Sparrow’s breathless moans muffled beneath my hand. I imagine I can still feel her panting against my fingers.

But my handler is a real stickler for protocol, and he doesn’t need to know about that.

“I assume my next directive is to lay low until the heat is off?”

“Negative, Leyla. We’re bringing you back to the States.”

I stop with my cigarette halfway to my mouth. “Why?”

“Got an assignment for you in a tiny town called Port Sitka. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“There’s something we need you to handle there. Someone we need you to find and bring in.”

“Who?” I ask, stretching out my legs, one high heel dangling from my toes.

“We don’t have a name yet. You’ll need to find that out.”

“Then how am I supposed to know that I’ve found the person I’m looking for?”

“You’ll know. We’re told that she has very unusual eyes.”