The Librarian Spy(74)
A knock sounded at the door, urgent and insistent.
Werner flicked an irritated glare toward the interruption before saying something in German. The door opened and a young man entered, his cheeks flushed.
Elaine could not understand their conversation, but she did not mistake the look of regret that crossed Werner’s face as he regarded her. He stalked toward her, his expression hard with malice. “Leave.”
The word was so startling, she almost froze. Except she was not so foolish as to squander the opportunity. She leaped from the chair, practically tripping in her haste, and followed the other man. Downstairs, he led her to the entryway where a woman waited in a familiar navy skirt.
Nicole turned as they approached, her red lips parting in a smile. “Elaine,” she cried. “I was so worried about you when you did not come for dinner.” She turned her attention to the Nazi and batted her long, sable lashes. “Merci, monsieur. You are my personal hero.”
“It was my pleasure, mademoiselle.” The man gave her a sloppy, besotted grin.
“Let us get you home, ma chérie.” Nicole threaded her arm through Elaine’s and pulled her close where she whispered, “You may lean on me if you need to.”
“I would not give them the satisfaction,” Elaine replied.
They walked toward the door together. Even as they neared the exit to freedom, the action seemed surreal.
Could it have been so easy to escape? Would they be stopped and sent back, another nasty jest by the Nazis? They were, after all, known for such cruel tricks.
But no one curtailed them as they made their way through the doors. A shadow lingered by a window upstairs, watching them as they departed. Despite the involuntary ripple of unease, no one called to them. They continued in silence for several minutes, threading their way down the street before Nicole turned into a building and led Elaine into a safe house. It was one Elaine had stayed at in her early days with the Resistance, an abandoned home with no tenant.
No sooner had the door been locked safely behind them than all the strength bled from her body, draining away with the fear that had held her captive for the last night and day. She sagged into the chair’s sturdy frame, her skirt still cold and damp.
Nicole busied herself in the kitchen, moving about with a comfort that spoke of familiarity.
“You should not have come for me,” Elaine said when she had gathered herself enough to speak again.
“That is a terrible way to say thank you.” Nicole filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove.
“Thank you,” Elaine said from the very depths of her soul. “Thank you for risking yourself to save me.”
“Thank you for sticking with the story of being a mere housewife,” Nicole responded. “Had you not, we both would be in Werner’s office now.” She sat down across from Elaine and, with gentle fingers, turned Elaine’s face to the side. “If you play to what they expect of you and apply a little flirtation, you can get nearly anything you want.”
“I think I forgot the flirtation,” Elaine murmured.
Nicole gave a soft laugh through the tears shimmering in her pale blue eyes. Elaine tried to join her, but the movement at her tender cheek made her wince.
With a tsk, Nicole handed Elaine a cold cloth and draped a clean dress over the chair. “Put this to your face to keep down the swelling. I can help you change when you are ready, if you need me to.” Nicole drew in a soft breath. “Did they do anything else to you?”
The memory of those tools in the leather case rushed back to Elaine. She had been saved from such a fate, but Joseph likely had not. Tears swam hot in her eyes.
“What did they do to you?” Nicole demanded, her expression hardening.
Elaine shook her head. “Nothing like they did to Joseph.”
Nicole’s face softened and she pulled Elaine to her. “I know, ma chérie. I know.”
Elaine melted into the comfort of Nicole’s arms and, in the genuine affection of that embrace, allowed the torrent of her powerful emotions to spill over. When she had no more tears left to cry, she asked after the newspapers she had dropped off moments before her arrest. By a miracle, they had been salvaged, each delivered to the appropriate location without issue.
Which was why they had not been mentioned by the Gestapo. Elaine would never begrudge a filthy receptacle again.
They remained in the safe house through the next day before relocating to another and then another to ensure they were not being followed. In that time, Elaine continued to listen to Radio Londres, trying to make sense of the messages, unable to keep from wondering if any one might pertain to Sarah and Noah.
Almost a week later, she finally returned to the warehouse with Nicole at her side. It was strange how something that once felt so cold and utilitarian had somehow become home. She missed the room where her bedroll and box of clothes remained, as well as the small kitchen and the constant hum and bang of the automatic press. Antoine, Jean, and Marcel rushed to embrace her, the familiar velvety smell of ink on all of them, and she was grateful to be returned to her Resistance family.
“Have you heard news from Radio Londres?” Elaine queried as soon as the frenzy of welcome wishes died down.
While in those arduous days of waiting, thoughts of Sarah and Noah buzzed in her brain, the only reprieve she had from her tortuous imagination of Joseph and what he likely endured at the hands of Werner.