The Librarian Spy(18)

“He’s in Montluc Prison. Perhaps you know him—Pierre?” His code name was foreign on Elaine’s tongue.

Josette brightened. “He made identity cards.”

Elaine nodded, suspecting as much based off Claudine’s arrival at her door. However, she had not anticipated the women would know of her husband, let alone what he had done. But this new insight into Joseph left her fascinated to learn more.

“He made mine.” Josette’s brow pinched. “Though I can’t recall much else.”

“I don’t know anything about him,” Nicole said. “But I’ll do what I can to find out.”

Elaine offered her an appreciative smile. “Merci beaucoup.”

Nicole waved it off as if the gesture was nothing. But it was something to Elaine. It meant knowing exactly what Joseph did those days she thought he was at work, all the times of being a bored housewife, stewing with resentment as she waited at home.

And to think Elaine had once accused him of being as guilty as the Nazis for having turned a blind eye. The memory struck at a contrite chord within her. If only she had known then... If only he had trusted her enough to tell her.

The familiar ire welled up once more.

But any residual anger dissolved into an unsettling chill when Elaine caught sight of Denise, who was studying her with an expression that could only be considered somber.



FIVE


Ava


Ava set the five publications she’d procured onto Mr. Sims’s desk. She personally had scoured through them to ensure the contents seemed pertinent to what might aid the American war effort.

He gave them a cursory glance and returned his attention to a file open in front of them, clearly uninterested in her findings. “Where are the rest?”

“These seemed to have helpful details,” she replied. “I could only read the ones in English, German, and French.”

Mr. Sims pinched the bridge of his nose in a manner that suggested she had just ruined his entire day. “You are to obtain any publication you can get your hands on.”

“I was given no instructions, but will certainly acquire more next time,” she said with measured deference. “I also would have appreciated being notified that some Nazis pretend to be Austrians.”

His head shot up. “Why? What happened? What did you say?”

She shook her head so swiftly, she felt one of the pins holding a rolled-back curl slip. “Nothing, but you might have told me regardless.”

“In that case.” He put the flat of his palms on his desk. “Don’t talk to Germans. They’re the enemy and also involved with the PVDE from time to time.” His eyes bored into hers.

She was about to ask what the PVDE was when he returned his focus to the folder and muttered, “And here I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

His words were a slap that made tears sting her eyes. She looked down quickly to keep him from seeing them.

“Want me to show you where we do our photography?” Mike asked abruptly from the open doorway. No doubt he had heard. Likely everyone in the office had.

Ava nodded, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” But when she turned to go, Mr. Sims gave a short whistle.

He gathered the papers in his meaty hand. “Don’t forget your generous haul.”

Her face burned with humiliation.

Mike took the small stack and nudged Ava with his elbow. “You got three more than me on my first go of it.”

She looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah, we weren’t given much to work with when we first got here.” He led her down a hall that held the pervasive aroma of stale coffee. “It was just me and ole Sims when all this started up. I think that’s why he’s being so hard on you. A rite of passage so to speak.”

She didn’t reply. If she were back in DC at that very moment, she would be getting ready for her job in the Rare Book Room. In an hour, she would have strolled beneath masterpieces that celebrated intellect, to breathe in that scent of old books that she already missed like a heartbeat.

Instead, she faced some juvenile rite of passage after being flirted with by a Nazi and called out by a man who knew more about her than she did him. Aristotle once said that patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.

That bitterness sat on the back of her tongue now, stubborn and long-lasting.

But hadn’t the first day at the Library of Congress been difficult when she started? There was more to know than she ever thought possible to learn.

She’d taste the fruit of conquering Lisbon’s unknown and was certain it would be sweet.

Mike escorted her to a large conference room with a table at its center, like a floating island with no chairs in sight and covered in lamps. Three boxy cameras sat to one side as well as several reels of film in their round metal boxes.

“You may be familiar with these.” Mike winked. “I hear you worked with something like them at the Library of Congress.”

The burden of her frustration eased as she went to the first camera. “I did. We had stacks of newsprint that was decaying and managed to salvage the information by putting it all on microfilm.”

“Well, here we are doing it because of limited storage for mailing items back to DC to be categorized.” He popped open the side of the large camera and Ava did likewise. “We tried sending the actual periodicals, books, and newsprint in boxes on ships, but the vessels were unreliable and apparently the German paraphernalia kept being seized as contraband.” He chortled to himself. “Ole Sims is still fielding calls from the PVDE about why we have so many Nazi publications going to the States.”