The Librarian Spy(67)
They all did what they could for the underground, for their persistent battle to resist their oppressors. Her part now was to deliver the papers and avoid notice from the Nazis.
An icy blast of wind made the tip of her nose burn and her eyes sting. She squinted as much as possible to minimize the discomfort while still allowing herself to see a slit of the street in front of her without crashing into a wall or falling off a curb. Easier said than done in the darkness of early winter sunsets.
The trams were down from a Resistance attack earlier that day. There was nothing for it but to walk. She would not have the newspaper late on her account.
Hurried along by the gusts, she rushed to the drop location on the outskirts of Croix-Rousse. The courtyard of the building inside was empty and dark. But then, winter was such a bleak time. Branches were stripped of their leaves to reveal skeletal limbs beneath and the sky was cast in a flat gray that reflected on the Rh?ne, washing the world in a bland, colorless existence.
A dim light shone on a corridor containing the buildings’ post boxes, only just illumining the dank open space cradled inside the building.
In the corner of the courtyard was a crate one might use to cart about goods or stand on to peer into a window. The wooden box seemed to have been there so long, the boards were stained dark with age and sagged in against themselves, a thick smattering of mud and grit coating the outside. Elaine slipped into the heavy shadow near the wall, lifted the crate to reveal the dry earth beneath and carefully set the papers within. When she withdrew her hand, her fingertips came away damp and filthy with a black and green organic substance she didn’t care to place.
She rubbed her hands together to clean them as best she could. Her surroundings were desolate—the chipped walls, the alcove with only one bare bulb, the illumination almost drown out by an eclipse of moths.
Something in the distance clicked and the light went out, blanketing her in a momentarily disorienting darkness.
In that instant, she was entirely alone in the cold blackness of the world.
The enormity of her sorrow swelled inside her, absent any warmth or life. In that moment, the courtyard became a direct reflection of her own soul, bearing the agony of her pain, of her grief. She stumbled back into the street and struggled to drag in a breath of air even as it burned in her lungs. By habit more than intent, she lifted her watch to find it was very nearly eight at night.
Radio Londres would be airing soon after her return if she hurried back. There might be more detail given on Sarah and Noah.
The thought roused her to her senses, tugging her up from the doldrums by her bootstraps.
“Halt.”
She spun around to find a German officer directly behind her.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded in French.
“I was visiting a friend,” she said even as her mind tried to catch up with the lie her mouth expelled.
“A friend.” His narrowed eyes glittered in the darkness like something evil and soulless. “This building has been emptied, all the occupants arrested this afternoon.”
“That would explain why my friend was not home,” she replied smoothly, her pulse pounding. “What have they done that everyone would be taken?”
But even as she feigned ignorance, she knew. Fear prickled at her scalp and screamed for her to run. Several months before, she might have been able to. Before Corsica won the battle for its freedom from the Nazi oppressors.
Now, the Germans shot without question, bathing the streets in blood with their determination to maintain their viselike grip on France.
The officer called to someone in German. A fresh-faced boy-soldier who barely looked old enough to shave emerged from the shadows beyond a streetlamp’s perfect circle of yellow light.
“Go inside and see if any messages have been placed within.” The officer spoke in French, purposefully wanting her to have understood him.
Elaine used all her willpower to school her face into a bland expression, refusing to betray the fear vibrating through her. If they found the papers, she would be dead.
They waited for a long moment as the boy did what he was told. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering from terror as much as from the cold. The officer appeared impervious to the weather, most likely from the heavy coat he wore and the girth of his prominent belly jutting beneath. The boy emerged several minutes later and spoke in German.
The officer glared at Elaine and dread tingled over her skin.
Had they found the newspapers?
“I’m sure he’s proven my innocence,” she said in a brusque tone she prayed would be convincing.
The officer didn’t deign to reply. Nor did he look convinced. Instead, he reached for her with an unfriendly hand, trapping her where she stood. “You are under arrest.”
SEVENTEEN
Ava
Every day James met Ava downstairs to walk to the kiosk with her, and every day he had the same answer about the possibility of a rescue plan for the Jewish mother and child in Lyon: no news yet. Though Ava had been reluctant to accept his offer to join her in the mornings, she had to admit that she’d not seen the German since James began accompanying her.
Additionally, Alfonso nodded at their morning arrival in silent confirmation that everything appeared to be clear. So it was that time went by without incident and Thanksgiving came and went. The occasion was marked with a quiet affair at the embassy with far more roasted fowl, heavy gravies, potatoes, and candied yams than any of them could possibly eat. Ava had jokingly invited James, who respectfully declined.