He always said he loved how quick I was on my feet. He always told me he loved my fierceness and my resilience. If he was there with me in that hall, he’d be certain that I could handle whatever came next.
I was suddenly just like Chloe, standing at the start of the obstacle course, refusing to accept my failure before it had occurred. All was not lost just yet. I had to keep my cool so I could find a way out of the mess. My thoughts slowed, and my heart rate slowed too.
By the time the young Milicien returned to the hall to collect me, he had several more senior companions in tow, but I was undaunted. They took me into an opulent office, where a captain sat behind a wooden desk. His uniformed secretary perched on a chair beside him, taking notes.
“Miss Leroy,” the captain said. He didn’t seem aggressive, only bored. Maybe a little impatient. “Please explain yourself. What are you doing in Rouen?”
“My uncle is missing.” I said. Think about Giles. Think about Hughie. “My aunt asked me to look for him. She is worried he might have been injured in the recent bombings.”
“And you arrived today, you say?”
“Yes, sir.” It had been a foolish lie, but I was locked in to it now.
“You took the train from Paris.”
“Yes, sir.”
I tried to imagine myself as the captain saw me as I stood there before him. Chestnut hair, set in waves around my face. Bright blue eyes—my whole life, people had been telling me they were striking, my best feature. An hourglass figure, accentuated by my pretty woolen dress and coat.
The captain had no idea who I was. The things I’d been through. The lengths a woman like me would go to for revenge. What was it Madame Laurent had said? Men are all too quick to believe a beautiful woman runs entirely on sentiment and knows nothing of substance or value.
That was it—my way forward. I was going to convince them I was just a terrified girl, too stupid to even follow the basic procedure of moving around in the forbidden zone along the Atlantic Wall.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I mumbled, as I reached up and began to twirl a lock of my hair around my finger. I dropped my gaze back down nervously and kept my voice soft. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”
“Have you registered your uncle with the lost and missing persons office at the Town Hall?” the captain asked. I looked up at him, feigning confusion.
“No, sir. The Town Hall, you say? Is that…”
“That is the procedure, Miss Leroy. You should have registered as a visitor immediately upon arrival and you should have registered your uncle’s details with Town Hall so that the local authorities would know that someone is looking for him.”
“That seems so much easier than just asking around after him as I planned to,” I said, keeping my voice small and uncertain. “Is it too late for me to do that now, sir?”
The captain looked up at me, sighed impatiently, and waved toward the woman taking notes.
“Give her the name of your hotel. Your uncle’s name too. If we hear from him, we’ll let you know. Now get out of here but don’t go to the Town Hall until morning. You’ll need to hurry to be back to your room before curfew.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, and I walked all the way to the door before he stopped me with an abrupt, “Miss Leroy?”
I turned back to him hesitantly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Next time you’re outside of Le Havre for any reason, be sure to familiarize yourself with the procedures of the township you’re visiting.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even as the door closed behind me, I heard the captain berating the young Milicien.
“You are not required to bring every silly girl you come across to my office! There was nothing at all about that timid mouse to suggest even average intelligence, let alone an indication she was deserving of suspicion.”
I had lost a precious day sitting in that hallway in the Palais de Justice and all because I had allowed myself to become distracted for just a few moments, right at the start of my mission. Never again, I promised myself. There was too much at stake for me to make such a careless mistake again.
C H A P T E R 11
JOSIE
Montbeliard, France
December, 1943
Noah and I sat together at the little table the next morning. We kept a small wireless receiver hidden in the top of the laundry closet most of the time, but that day, we drew the curtains for privacy and sat with the wireless between us.
“This is London! This is the French speaking to the French…” My eyes locked with Noah’s and we held our breath as we waited. “Before we begin, please listen to some personal messages…”
This was the typical Radio Londres format for each broadcast. The “personal messages” were always obscure, sometimes amusing. The broadcasters knew the Germans listened every bit as much as the French did but they did not try to hide that these messages were actually coded messages for agents and specific French citizens. I had the sense that sometimes they liked to toy with the Germans, to give them the impression operations were underway on a grander scale than we had actually managed.
“Tea is best served steaming hot. Flowers blossom in the spring. Olivier is very tall.”
Noah closed his eyes, exhaling with relief.
“What next?” I whispered. He opened his eyes.
“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.”