The Paris Agent(39)
“I call Sauvage back today to arrange a meeting.”
“That’s a risky move.”
“This will work. I know it will.”
“I think it will too…but…”
“I trust my gut,” he said simply, and then he reached to cover my hand with his. “And even more than that, I trust yours.”
The first rendezvous with Sauvage would be in a busy park, late in the afternoon, a few days after the radio broadcast. Noah was to sit at a particular bench, reading a newspaper. Adrien sat some distance away, pretending to read a book, but in truth, keeping watch.
Noah’s instructions to Adrien were that if the meeting was a trap, say if Gestapo arrived instead of—or with—Sauvage, Adrien should not attempt to rescue him. There would be little he could do to help him in that moment. Adrien was there only to observe. If the meeting went badly, the best we could hope was to use our local contacts to mount a rescue later.
I was sick with nerves that afternoon as I worked at the Travers house, supervising the twins and preparing dinner. Noah promised to come to the kitchen to let me know he was okay once the meeting was over. When his face appeared in the window, I was so relieved I could have wept.
“Monsieur Martel!” Aimé said, surprised but overjoyed to see him. The girls had only met Noah a handful of times, but both had quickly come to adore him.
“Hello, Aimé,” he said, smiling softly, and I knew in an instant that the meeting had gone well. Noah looked at me then and his smile deepened. “How is your day, my love? Mine has been excellent.”
“I’ll see you at home a little later?”
He nodded and tipped his hat as he left. When Jullien came home a few hours later, I flew along the street and burst into our apartment. Noah was standing by the kitchen sink, but he turned to me and said, “Tomorrow. We start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I repeated, dumbfounded.
“Nine a.m. We disguise ourselves—I’ll dress in my suit as if I’m a businessman. You’ll need to wear office clothes and pretend you’re my secretary. We’ll meet Sauvage at the factory and he’s going to show us around the entire facility. He’s also going to arrange for a set of plans for us.”
“Noah! I can’t just not go to work.”
“That’s the other thing,” he said carefully. “He wants Jullien to help us. We have to tell him the truth.”
“Oh, no,” I protested, shaking my head. “No! It would be too risky for them to know what we—”
“As Sauvage reminded me, your presence in their lives is risky enough already for them. Can you imagine if the Germans discovered what you and I have been up to? They would interrogate Mégane and Jullien half to death just because you have worked in their house!”
My breath caught in my throat at the very thought.
“But…”
“I know we wanted to protect them, but we inadvertently put them at risk the minute we made contact with them,” Noah said gently. “Sauvage assures me that Jullien will want to help. We should give him the opportunity to make the decision for himself.”
“So…you are not a child minder?” Mégane said in shock later that night, after Noah and I arrived unannounced and asked to sit with her and Jullien for a chat. The four of us were seated around a coffee table in their expansive lounge, the girls long asleep upstairs. I felt a pang of sadness that I’d no longer spend my days with the family. I’d quickly become so fond of them all. “But the girls love you, Béatrice—Chloe…”
“And I them,” I rushed to assure her.
“The minute we understood your situation, we agreed we would do nothing at all to put you at risk. We were never going to attempt to recruit you to help us,” Noah said, glancing between Mégane and Jullien. “But Fernand was adamant that you would want to be a part of this.”
“I suspected,” Jullien sighed, and even Mégane turned to stare at him in surprise. “Oh, not the specifics. I sleep poorly since the war began and the back gate off your courtyard squeaks just a little. I’d heard you coming and going at all hours, so I knew one or both of you were up to something.” He scrubbed a hand through his thinning hair then nodded. “I hate every aspect of the occupation. I loathe that they have co-opted the factory for these evil purposes. It kills me to think it will be destroyed, but to refuse to help you would mean blood on our hands.”
“You will still help me, won’t you?” Mégane asked me hopefully.
“She is needed elsewhere, my love,” Jullien told her gently. “We will find a new nanny immediately.” He rose suddenly and waved toward us. “Marcel. Chloe. I have blueprints in my study from the retooling project. We can begin planning right away.”
Six weeks after that disastrous bombing raid, Noah and I led two small teams of local resistance operatives to the Sauvage factory at 11:00 p.m. on an overcast night.
Sauvage and Jullien were safely at home, but they had given every imaginable support to the operation. Jullien liaised with key staff to make necessary arrangements—manipulating a rostering “mishap” that meant there were no security guards stationed on the night of the operation, and returning himself earlier that evening to unlock the necessary gates and doors. And as airdrops from London built up our supply of explosives over those preceding weeks, Sauvage arranged for workmen to pick up the crates of explosives and stockpile them right on the factory floor, disguised as components for the coming munitions project. I got a particular thrill imagining German soldiers supervising work in the plant, unknowingly walking past the largest explosive supply the region had ever seen.