April 16, 1942

"Agent Mahlon!" Genevieve whirled around to see her superior gliding towards her. His crisp blue suit and tie made him appear even more handsome than he already was. Bronze skin, chocolate hair, hazel eyes, and a dimple in his chin accentuated his sharp features.

Genevieve stood straight and tall in her powder blue kitten heels. "Director Evans," she greeted in her thick French accent. He stopped a few feet in front of her and gestured to the short man at his side. Her eyes scanned over the newcomer, memorizing every detail of his oily face. Every scar, mole, and pimple.

"This is Agent Mahlon, she's running the ops for the capture of two third reich members, as well as the assassination of Adolf Hitler." The man at his side smiled smally, professionally, and held out his hand to shake hers. She placed her gloved hand within his and returned the smile, willing herself not to flinch at the man's clammy hand on the silk. "This is Snow, he'll be handling the weapons and making sure you get everything you need." It was the first time she had seen Director Bill Evans since she had been sent to Paris the year before. It was too risky to disappear, to have regular meetings, to make any move that could blow the entire operation, but she preferred to work alone. She'd spent months with the team he assigned her to and carefully crafted her persona. He'd provided her with photographers and money, and in return she played her part well. Too well, if her fame was any indication.

"Pleasure." She let go of his hand, clutching her files to her chest. She was wearing her civilian clothes, under the guise of visiting Lucile. Her powder blue shoes matched her blouse that had been tucked into her pleated white ankle length skirt. Waltz was undoubtedly being spoiled by the elderly couple above ground. "Is everyone here?" she asked the director.

"We're waiting on Belle still. We'll give it another few minutes before we have to start without her," he informed her. It was unlike Belle to miss a meeting, but not unheard of. Genevieve would be tasked with briefing the agent at their next meeting. The next tea time.

"What weapons do you have current access to Snow?" Genevieve inquired, not wishing to dwell on her friend's absence and longer. The man eyed her in a way that made her feel as though he was sizing her up. She was used to being underestimated. That was her job; to be looked upon as inferior in order to gain access to some of the most prudent information the world had to offer. It was the sole fact that this ally was giving her the same look her enemies did that made her blood boil. She snapped her fingers in his face. "What weapons?" she repeated, not one to enjoy waiting.

Snow blinked, annoyed at her air of authority. "I am one of the top specialists in the United States of America." His voice revealed his ire. "If the order requires-"

Director Evans stopped him with a raised hand. "The order is not running this particular operation. This was all Genevieve's plan, I just approved it. You would do well to remember that she is your superior, and treat her as such." She beamed internally at the sharp tongue of her director.

Snow grimaced, quickly shifting into a respectful expression to cover his tracks. "Sir, I meant no disrespect. I just don't see how a woman-"

"Are you familiar with the Luciano crime family?" Director Evans interrupted him.

Snow shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure. Everyone knows about the Five Points Gang."

Genevieve smirked, knowing where the conversation was heading. "Well are you aware that it took years for the FBI to gain even a smidgen of intellect that could aid in the imprisonment of Lucky Luciano?" Snow shrugged, clearly not entirely familiar with the current history. "Genevieve Mahlon, under the name of Marilyn Reed, gained twice as much persecuting information in one week. She was on the job one week," he held up a finger in front of Snow's face to emphasize, "and managed to shut down the mob and take out the king in one swoop. She alone plotted and executed an operation that brought about the end of a bootlegging, gambling, extortionist that was the head of an illegal prostitution ring exploiting young women. Do you know how old she was when she managed that?" He cocked a brow at the weapon's specialist.

Snow shook his head. "No sir," he grumbled.

"Seventeen." He let the number hang in the air for a moment. She watched as Snow swallowed hard, uncomfortable and stiff. "I expect that you will show her the respect she deserves, because last I checked it wasn't you that had to spend every waking moment in Nazi territory with these godless sons of bitches. It wasn't you that had to sacrifice your very body to maintain a cover. Woman or not, know your superior when you see her. And for Christ's sake, wipe that dumbfounded look off your face," he snapped.

Genevieve let a smirk pull at her lips at the way the man cleared his throat and seemed to visibly try to change his expression. "Yes sir," he said nervously.

"The Order of the Ghost Division is indebted to her skills. I trust you won't need another reminder."

"No sir," Snow practically yelped.

Genevieve hid her smile beneath her file she was clutching. "Well, I believe we've given Belle all the time she's allotted. I can fill her in next time she comes over for tea. Agreed?" She raised her eyebrows at the director.

"Sound good to me." He nodded and clapped Snow on the back, the man flinching as he lurched forward from the impact. "Right this way." He lead him through the large, soundproof double doors to the white room. Director Evans always had a white room wherever he set up camp. He believed the brightness and the lack of color lifted the men's spirits and added a touch of holiness that one would only get from going to church. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but he believed in a higher power and had claimed he had seen the holy white light himself back in the first world war.

Genevieve clicked her heels to the back of the room where a large blackboard was nailed to the wall. "Good morning everyone." At least a dozen replies went up. There were around twenty people packed into the white room and seated around the oval table. Only five women were present, and none of them worked in the field with her. Chloe, Shona, and Belle were not in attendance. Chloe and Shona were missing for obvious reasons. They worked in brothels, and it wasn't exactly easy to slip away for a briefing.

"In precisely four days Hitler will be celebrating his fifty-third birthday. There are three possible venues." She grabbed the remote from the table and clicked. A white screen lowered from the ceiling over the blackboard. A projector was setup at the end of the table, awaiting her presentation. Genevieve pressed the button to turn it on and an image of the opera house was displayed. "The opera house," she hit the button again, "the Rex cinema," the next slide showed the grayscale photograph of the decently sized theater, "and Le Meurice Hotel." She was pleased to see the majority taking notes on the locations.

"I've devised a plan that will require minimum effort, as well as ensure the safety of our Ghosts. Our weapon's specialist, Snow," she gestured to him and a few turned to look, "will supply us with our artillery. You all know Agent Cross. He'll be supplying any insiders with listening devices to relay the exact events back to base."

A hand went up near the back of the table. "How many will be attending?"

"Nazis or allies?" Genevieve checked.

"Both," the man replied.

"Plans have not been solidified as of yet, this is purely a trial operation until we have exact numbers. I would have to say upwards of four hundred, possibly looking at roughly seven hundred Germans. As for how many allies will be inside," she paused and glanced around at all the expectant faces, "thirty as of this morning."

"Thirty? With seven hundred Germans?" A voice raised in surprise.

Genevieve sighed. "I understand its quite the difference, but I assure you, once you hear the full plan it will all seem frivolous to have so many allies in the building." The man settled back into his seat, waiting patiently to hear her plan. "There will be ten allies assigned to work the kitchens, four on the floor as servers, two in the bathrooms, five at the doors to welcome in guests, four attending as guests or escorts, and five checking coats. Director Evans is working on their placement as we speak, securing their backgrounds and keeping their covers in tact while assuring they get the job."

"Will the thirty allies be playing a significant role in the assassination?"

Genevieve shook her head. "No. That will fall to me. The allies will simply be put there to ensure that everything goes smoothly. They'll serve as distractions if need be, and all will be bugged."

"Will the capture of Dr. Broehm and Colonel Roemheld also take place on the night of the twentieth?" Another piped up.

"Yes, I was just getting to that." She clicked her remote and an image of the colonel shaking hands with the doctor stretched across the screen. "Our Ghosts have developed a new weapon that I will be using at the event." She pulled out the tube of red lipstick. "Poisonous to anyone unfortunate enough to get a kiss. I will-"

A muffled chuckle from by the doors made her stop. Snow was regaining his composure, "I'm sorry, are you suggesting that you kiss Hitler?" He looked around at the others who wore stone cold faces, not at all amused by his outburst.

"Did you have a constructive suggestion?" She quirked a brow.

"Shoot him in the fucking face? Dump poison into his champagne? Slit his throat from behind? I don't see why the bastard deserves a kiss," he scoffed.

Genevieve set the tube down on the table and smiled wickedly. "If I was to shoot Adolf Hitler in the face, at his own birthday party, I would be executed on the spot and our entire operation given away. Slit his throat and I may as well slit mine and all thirty of the allies in that venue. And the fact that you even suggested poisoning his champagne shows just how utterly dimwitted and under prepared you are for this mission. Hitler is paranoid beyond reason and has his food and drinks tested in front of him before consuming, you snide little insect. You are here to supply weapons, not to give your asinine opinions." The man's jaw fell open. A few of the men around the table covered their mouths to hide their amusement. The women all grinned openly at her display of power.

Genevieve turned back to address the room. "As I was saying," she tucked her platinum hair behind her ears, "the plan goes as such." She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote down the list of steps as she spoke them. "First, we will secure our allies positions in the venue. Second, Belle and her lieutenant husband will give me reason to be close with the target, as well as my own escort Colonel Roemheld. Third, I will get Hitler alone, which will be fairly simple given how smitten he seemed the night I met him, and give in to one little kiss. Within a few hours the poison will take effect, killing him, and leaving no trace whatsoever back to me or anyone else in the order for that matter. Four, during this time in between I will feign ill. The colonel will without a doubt offer to take me home, to which I will take full advantage of and be sure to flag down our doctor. Knowing the colonel, he will get the doctor to accompany us back to my house."

She wanted to roll her eyes when she heard Snow snort once more. "What makes you so sure the colonel will give two shits about you? Let alone leave Hitler's birthday party to make sure you are okay?" She could see a few of the men around the table grumble in agreement while the others looked on patiently.

Genevieve set down the remote. "Next thing you're going to announce is that you fucked a Nazi," he griped.

"Just the other night, actually." Snow's face fell, the grin dripping off of him. "Harriet, how about you? How many Nazis have you fucked?"

"Six, this week," the brunette replied sauvely.

"Six," she hummed back. "And you Margaret?"

"Three so far," the woman beside her stated calmly.

"You see, Snow, us women are vastly underestimated. We are seen as beautiful little toys to be collected and placed on a shelf. Only to be taken down and played with when men want. It is that very fact that makes us so formidable to you. Its the very nature of women to be cunning in a world run by men. You think that because we sleep with the enemy that we are whores, but you have no idea how many countless lives have been saved over the years since the Ghost Division began. Men don't censor what they say in front of us because we aren't viewed as a threat. I've been in attendance at Nazi balls and dinners, and soon to be on the arm of Colonel Roemheld of the SS at Hitler's own birthday party. I will gladly sleep with a handful of enemies if it means saving the lives of millions of Jews around the world. So yes, I fucked a Nazi, and I plan to do it again soon. I can promise you that. And yes, I will let Hitler kiss me and I'll enjoy every goddamn second of it because I know it will lead to him choking on his own vomit."

Snow opened his mouth, closed it, opened again and let out a grunt of frustration. "They'll shave your head for that," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"I'll be long gone by then, fucking some other enemy in some other country," she sneered. "And to answer your question, I've built up a relationship with the colonel for this precise moment. There isn't a doubt in my mind that he'll drive me home without question if he hears of my taking ill. The doctor will be a bonus that only a man like Nicolas Roemheld could swing with his authority."

She walked back to the blackboard and aggressively jotted down the last of her plan. "Carrying on," she sighed dramatically at the interruptions. "Once the three of us are out, we will strategically place one of our own at the nearest car. They will drive us through checkpoints, which will be vastly under protected due to the high attendance of the party. Once we reach the third checkpoint, that is where we will really begin to set the plan in motion. Word will have begun to spread that Hitler has died, the soldiers will rush to his aid and leave their posts more accessible, and we will make our move. I want every ally in the area at that checkpoint armed to the teeth. We will take control of the vehicle, restrain the doctor and the colonel and deliver them over the American lines where they will face criminal charges."

Satisfied, smug faces stared back at her. It was arguably one of her favorite sensations in the world; to preach her plans to them and see it in their eyes how confident they all were that it would work. "Questions?" She locked eyes with Snow, watching as his jaw clenched. "Good. We'll reconvene on the nineteenth to go over everything. For now, your jobs are to procure both stealth weapons as well as heavy artillery for the checkpoints. And Harriet, see to it that you gain access to a military vehicle of some sort. I'm not very particular." Genevieve flashed her a muted grin. "Something to drive through the checkpoint to get our point across."

Harriet smirked. "With pleasure."

She gathered her papers and files and swept out of the room, pointedly staring at Snow as she did so to remind him who was in charge of the operation. She hadn't made it ten steps out of the white room before Director Evans found her. "Agent Mahlon," he said in less of a professional tone and more of a friendly one. She turned, the sound of it peeking her interest.

"Could I see you in private for a moment?" She narrowed her eyes briefly, sizing him up. She was top of her class and then some, so she doubted it would be bad news concerning her. She nodded and followed him around the corner to his office.

"If this is about that mouthy little shit Snow, I can assure y-"

"Belle is missing," he cut her off. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, sighing over his desk.

"Missing?" she checked, mouth agape.

"Unofficially, but I thought you'd want to know. I know your relationship goes beyond that of a professional colleague," he explained, regaining his composure.

Genevieve closed her mouth, clearing out the lump in her throat behind a fake cough. "H-how do you know?"

"She checks in using our drop at the cafe. She orders an espresso when all is well, a pastry when she has new intel, and a caffè latte if she needs help." He sat back in his chair, grimacing. "Two days ago she came in, ordered a caffè latte, left, and we haven't heard from her since. We've sent three different agents to check up on her. A propaganda salesmen, and two women posing as housekeepers looking for work. Each time they've been turned away by Lieutenant Eric who blatantly avoids mentioning his wife."

Genevieve slumped down into the chair across from him. "She's missing?" She was sure she wasn't hearing him right.

"I'm so sorry Genevieve." He stood up, coming around to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I thought you should hear it from me first." He patted her a few times before he left the room entirely. She sat there, utterly gobsmacked. Belle was her only friend in and out of work. They had attended the same schools, shared the same classes, fancied the same boys. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump to go away. There was nothing that could make her cry in front of her colleagues. She had a reputation to uphold.

She stood, smoothing down her skirt and gliding from the room with such poise and prestige that all eyes in the corridors were set on her. She kept her nose up, and her eyes forward, until she was out of sight of them all. Then she cried.