Sleet began to fall outside as I stared tensely out of our bedroom window, the Washington DC street below us slowly winding down as night began to come.
We had already packed up what little we would be able to parachute down with us, and had met with officials for our final briefing. All that was left was to meet Stanley Lovell, our "gadget man" tomorrow to get our new guns and whatever else he had made for us.
Then, we would leave the safety of the US for perhaps years.
"You know," Benjamin said from the bathroom with shaving cream all over his face, "we don't have to sit here and sulk the whole night. This is our last night in America for who knows how long! We could bake something," he suggested weakly.
     I turned around and smirked at him. "Bake something? What kind of adventure is that? But I like the idea," I mused, climbing over the bed and rummaging through my closet, "of doing something fun."
     He poked his head out of the bathroom with raised eyebrows, halfway shaven.
     "Let's go dancing."
     "No way," Ben said with a laugh, "I'm not going to have us recognized by the press the night before going to France. The last thing you need is a photograph of your latest appearance in the paper."
     I rolled my eyes and rushed to his side, tugging on his pajama shirt. "I'll wear a wig and a different color lipstick. It's not like we aren't experienced with a good old fashioned cover. And this one would be easy compared to every other cover we've ever made. I promise it'll be fun, sweetheart."

     "I'm sure it would be fun," he smirked, "but I don't think it would be wise."

      We don't have to talk to anyone; we can just dance and eat. We haven't gone out in so long and I think Benny Goodman is playing tonight at the Madison Club. Please."
He washed off his face and kissed me on the forehead, looking up at the sky and shrugging. I knew he'd have to say yes.
     "They told us not to leave the house."
     I rolled my eyes. "They also told you not to shave, and I can see you following that rule quite nicely, hmm? C'mon, you can wear a nice suit and I'll wear my red dress. If we stay in here any longer we'll die of dread and regret and fear."
"Fine. But if they play Sing, Sing, Sing," Benjamin sighed, pointing to me with a smile as he unbuttoned his pajama shirt and put on a white button down, "you have to let me throw you up at least one time. It looks so great."
I laughed and cried, "I kicked you in the face last time!"
"Yes," he shrugged with a small grin, "but we beat that arrogant lawyer and his girlfriend. The crowd loved it."
"This isn't a jitterbug contest, Ben," I reminded him as I slipped into my dress, "just a night out like normal people have."
"Either way, we're gonna win."
I rolled my eyes.
Thirty minutes later, we were walking arm-in-arm down the dimly-lit street to the Madison Club, just a few blocks from our old row house.
I was wearing one of the many wigs I'd accumulated doing domestic intelligence operations in my time not overseas, and I switched from my favorite deep red lipstick to a brighter, pinker shade that would be less recognizable.
Benjamin was wearing a nice brown suit jacket he got from a thrift store in Dublin, Ireland and the same olive green sweater he was wearing when we first met in France. Thankfully, someone was able to get the bloodstains out.
The thick-rimmed glasses that he always refused to wear, and slicked back golden hair peeking out from his hat gave him enough of a disguise to blend in with the rest of the men in the club.
"Oh no," he said as we approached the enormous building, pulling me back by the arm, "they've got someone at the door checking tickets."
I giggled and mused, "That won't be an issue, darling. Just tell the man who we are and he'll let us in."
Benjamin's eyes widened. Always so cautious. We balanced each other out nicely.
"We aren't telling anyone who we are, Louisa! That's the whole reason I said we could go! You're wearing a wig for heaven's sake!"
"Oh, please," I said, waving my hand, "he's way too busy to tell anyone anyway. They won't care."
He grabbed my arm and smiled a little, putting his hand on my cheek. "You're crazy. I have a better idea."
Bursting into a limping run, I followed him into the alley with a laugh. "I'm in heels, Benjamin," I whispered loudly, "and my legs are killing me!"
Even after three years, the damage done to my legs in the plane crash still surfaced every now and then and it hurt something terrible.  
     Benjamin reached back and grabbed my hand as he hoisted himself up onto the rickety fire escape.
     "Excuses, excuses," he crooned, mocking one of the trainers we'd encountered at Camp X. I climbed over the metal railing and followed him up the stairs until we'd reached the fifth floor.
     Sure enough, the window was open and the curtains were fluttering in the brisk November wind. I looked at him in amazement.
     "How did you-"
     "I used to deliver newspapers to this building in 1933 and it was the last stop on my route. My friends and I always went up the fire escape to the 16th floor where some old lady lived for years. She," he chuckled as he helped me through the window, "always left the window unlocked and her kitchen was the first room we came to, so we ate like kings."
     I gasped and punched him in the shoulder. "That's awful!"
"Every time I pass this building, I look up to see which windows are open out of curiosity." I rolled my eyes and followed him into the bland waiting room we'd found ourselves in.
     "So," I said, "now what? Do we just find some stairs and act like we've been here the whole time?"
     Ben shrugged and opened the door to the hallway, beginning to reply when we both realized it was not a hallway. Instead, we came face to face with Benny Goodman himself, wearing a bathrobe and holding the reed of his clarinet with one hand and a comb in the other. My jaw dropped, and Benjamin froze.
     Of course, I thought, thinking about what a tremendous story this would make later.
     Obviously, Benjamin was not thinking about it as lightly as I was. "Oh, sir, I am so sorry," he stammered, taking my hand and beginning to walk backwards toward the fire escape, "We just-"
     "Are you Major General Tallmadge?"
     We exchanged glances as the famous musician looked between us with eyes wide.
     "Oh, no," Ben stumbled over his words, "I think you're thinking of someone else. We just-"
     I stepped in front and gave him a smile. "Yes, sir, he is."

 Benjamin looked at me as though I'd just signed away our lives

"We were trying not to make a scene or have ourselves recognized out front, so we thought the fire escape would be a good option. Please forgive us, we didn't know that you were in here. We'll leave-"
     Mr. Goodman held up a hand and grinned. "It's quite alright, in fact, I'm glad to finally meet you two. I often see your escapades in the paper or hear the radio shows about you guys. I won't ask any more questions for fear of making you say something confidential, but would you like to wash up in my dressing room? You both," he chuckled a little and gestured to our faces and disheveled clothes, "look a little like you just climbed through a fire escape at the Madison club...and we don't need that for the Duchess and the Head of Intelligence."
     Benjamin and I looked at each other incredulously. "We don't want to impose," I said, adjusting my dress and hoping he couldn't tell I was wearing a wig, "I'm sure you have to get ready to play out there in a little while. But if there's one thing we may ask, how did you know it was us?"
     He laughed, and I could tell Benjamin didn't know how to interpret the way the conversation had gone. He was so used to being in charge and having all the control over a situation.
    "Your chemistry around each other is undeniable. You two just look like a couple. And you were both a little off-guard when you saw me, so don't blame yourselves too hard. You don't look like the famed Tallmadges, I promise."
     We thanked him profusely and he showed us the stairs that could lead us to an inconspicuous entrance to the main floor. "I won't tell a soul that you're here," he winked, "but I'd love to see you two on the dance floor, yeah?"
     "We'll be there if you play Sing, Sing, Sing," I said, "I've already promised him a dance."
Once inside the bustling, high-end club, Benjamin and I split up to avoid being seen walking around together and rendezvoused on the side, where a small diner-like bar was set up.
"Can I get you something to drink?" the man behind the counter asked Benjamin.
"Oh, no, thank you," he said in a slightly Southern accent.
"What about your girl?" he said, gesturing to me, "How about something for her?"
I forced a smile and answered for myself, "I'll have a water."
     The man began to chuckle and looked between the two of us. "Doing your part for the war effort, huh? Comin' right up."
     He turned away and Benjamin and I exchanged glances. Neither of us drank, whether the war needed supplies or not, but we hated to stand out and be noticed by this man who could easily recognize us if he paid attention for too long.
     When he was gone and the opening band played to a crescendo that allowed us to talk without being heard, I asked, "Have you been practicing your German?"
     "Not as much as you've been practicing French, I'm assuming. Can you even imagine it? Hiding in plain sight in the Nazi territory?"
I laughed a little. "I can do more than imagine it, darling. I've lived it. Once you become accustomed to the first few weeks, it feels as though you're really living the life we are pretending to have. And it's scary."
     Benjamin tugged on my curls in the dim lighting and grinned, a gleam of adoration in his tired eyes.
     "You are so much braver than me, Lou. I have a desk job-"
     "One of the most important desk jobs in America," I interrupted.
    "But still a desk job, where I file papers and listen to people argue all day. And you are running around Europe risking your life...actually doing some good to win this war. How am I going to survive France next to you?"
     I gave a slight nod to the man behind the counter as he slid two cups of water towards us and took Benjamin's hand. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Have you forgotten about all the things you did in Ireland and France before we met? Or your work capturing that spy in Baltimore? And what about the sheer number of people you're in charge of as America's Head of Intelligence? Marseilles will be a breeze. Besides, aren't you excited to get back into the medical field?"
"Of course I am," he groaned, "but not operating on Nazis that threw out their back vandalizing a bar."
I laughed. "You have a point."
Benny Goodman and his band began to set up on the stage by the dance floor, and he winked at us with a small grin.
A man wearing an oversized suit jumped onstage and introduced them, bringing thunderous applause from the whole place. "Here's the first one," he said, "it's Benny Goodman and his band playing Sing, Sing, Sing."
I gasped and Benjamin looked at me mischievously. From his spot front and center, Benny Goodman laughed a little when he saw our reaction and said over the microphone, "Come on now, everyone! I want everyone out on this dance floor."
     Ben took my hand and led me to the front, following the crowds as they began to pair up.
     "May I?" He bowed, a wry smile on his face as he put one arm around my waist and held my hand with the other, both of us beginning to spin in time with the music.
     He swung me around and we fell back into each other's arms, repeating the process at a breakneck pace. Everyone around us was doing something similar, throwing their partners or showing off their most complicated moves.
Benjamin and I had danced hundreds of times all over America and Europe, and we knew we could impress the crowd easily, but our goal today was to remain anonymous.
We were both laughing hysterically as the famous song picked up pace and we frantically tried to keep up with the rhythm, our arms and feet swinging wildly.
"Tandem?" I mouthed as he spun me around.
He nodded as I locked my arm in his for a split second so I could launch myself back in front of him. Someone hooted and we moved our feet and hands in unison, as though we were riding a tandem bicycle.
Benny Goodman caught our eyes and raised his eyebrows.
The frantic pace of the music made the onlookers to the side begin to clap to the beat,
and Benjamin and I continued our Lindy Hop moves until the theme of the song changed, and drums took over.
Using the few seconds to take a breather, I whispered, "Are we doing the aerial?"
"Let's do it."
Goodman's clarinet took over the melody and I nodded to Benjamin when I was ready, letting him pull me from the swing so I was standing beside him.
He picked me up with one hand, still giving me balance with the other, and I flew over his shoulders, landing on his left side.
A small group had gathered around us and they cheered loudly. Ben and I glanced at each other with resigned exhilaration.
"Let's just hope my wig doesn't fall off," I whispered into his ear as we danced—our faces inches from each other.
We spun away from each other and another man suddenly took my hand, taking Benjamin's place. I noticed another woman quickly snatched Ben up, and we exchanged laughing looks.
He tried to lead the way and swing me just like Benjamin, but he certainly wasn't as good. "You're a ducky shin-cracker if I ever saw one," he panted, trying to keep up with me.
I raised my eyebrows. "I've been to my fair share of swing clubs in my day."
"Well, sugar, are you rationed?"
I chuckled. "Married."
His eyes fell downcast and he looked across Benjamin dancing with a young girl sheepishly.
"It's alright," I told him, "he won't mind. Do you know the girl he's with?"
"She's my cousin's friend. I'm sure she won't mean anything by it-"
"Don't worry about us. Come on, have you ever done an aerial?"
He looked at me with wide eyes and shook his head. I knew I should have probably shut down the conversation a while ago to keep my identity hidden, but I felt bad for the poor young man.
"I'll help you, you don't have to throw me high. Impress that girl over there...she's watching you," I gestured to a brunette watching along the edge of the room.
I helped him put his hands in the right spot and jumped as high as I could to help him out. He faltered a little but I caught myself, landing softly on the ground as the song ended.
Bewildered, he ran his hands through his hair and tried to mask his amazement. "Golly," he breathed, "you're good."
The crowd cheered as all the dancers dispersed, and a slower song came on.
"What's your name?" he asked, smiling at Benjamin as he came over with the girl he was dancing with.
I gave Benjamin a quick look to see if he'd already given me a false identity to the girl, and he quickly said, "Anne Jacobs. My sweetheart."
"And this is Alexander Jacobs," I added, gesturing to him, "my sweetheart."
     They thanked us and said goodbye, obviously both disappointed at the turn of events but glad that we were kind to them.
     Benjamin took my hand and led me back onto the dance floor, holding me close as we swayed to the song.
     I felt his lungs expand as he chuckled. "I feel bad for the poor kids. That was me at Yale, you know. Pining for attention from every woman I could find. And then my darling suddenly fell from the sky when I'd lost all hope."
     I playfully slapped his arm and laid my head on his chest. "There will never be anyone for me but you."