Operation Rose

Beside a graffiti-embellished pew, I turned to Rose and said, “You’re taking great risks for us.”
“Freedom is worth the risks,” Rose said.
“What about the risks to your family?”
Rose turned and offered me an angry glare. “Who said that I have a family?”
“I assumed that you are married,” I said, “with children.”
Rose looked like a housewife. She wore no rings on her fingers, yet her whole manner suggested a housewifely air.
“I would rather not mention my family,” Rose said.
“I understand,” I said.
At that point, the sound of an organ reverberated through the cathedral. Its sudden appearance caught me by surprise. It startled Rose and made her jump.
“I must go,” she said.
I nodded. “Take care.”
I waited and listened to the organ. The sound was modern, electrified. I didn’t recognise the tune, but it was pleasant enough.
Outside, I walked through the narrow alleys, along the cobbled streets. I couldn’t explain why, but I loved cobbled streets.
At a distance of five hundred metres, I turned and stared at the cathedral, and reflected on Rose. I considered that she was an enigma. Maxime Durand had vouched for her. London trusted Durand, but I had my doubts about him. For security’s sake, I reckoned that I should learn more about Rose.