The Paris Architect: A Novel Part 10

"Please do not be alarmed, monsieur," replied Serrault, who walked very slowly out of the shadows.

Serrault was amused to see the expression of relief on the architect's face when he saw he stood face-to-face with a smiling, well-dressed old man with a neatly trimmed white beard, not a Gestapo agent pointing a Luger at him.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing here, old man?"

Serrault started walking toward the architect, who raised his hand, silently ordering him to come no farther.

"It's all right; I know what you're doing here, monsieur."

"You know nothing, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. Now get the h.e.l.l out of here."

Serrault was unfazed by the architect's reaction. He was still wearing the gentle smile on his grandfatherly face.

"I know what you're doing for us."

"Us?"

Serrault pulled his charcoal gray raincoat away from his chest to reveal a yellow Star of David made of felt on his black suit jacket. He saw the architect's knees almost collapse under him; he had to steady himself by holding on to the mantle. He understood the architect's reaction; this was probably the first time he'd ever met one of the people he hid. Now facing him was a real and dangerous connection. Serrault was threatening his very survival by just being in the same room with him.

"You're a righteous man," said Serrault.

"Me? Righteous? That's a joke."

"No, monsieur, it is not."

"Old fool, why the h.e.l.l didn't you get out when you could?"

The question surprised Serrault, but it was a fair one that deserved an answer.

"You're quite right. I'd be having dinner in Switzerland right now if I'd exercised better judgment."

"You're all idiots. The chosen people, what a joke."

The old man was amused by this comment. He started pacing slowly back and forth across the far end of the room.

"You ask me why I stayed, and I'll tell you. I feel I should offer an explanation considering what you're risking. My family's been here since the Revolution. All my ancestors have fought for France-the war against the Prussians and myself in the Great War. True, I'm a Jew. But I'm a Jew of French ancestry and very proud to be French. I believed in the glory of France and always will. After the Armistice in '40, I stayed in Paris out of loyalty to my country because it needed me to stand by her."

"You were quite mistaken."

"Yes, I was. No Jew had any idea what life would be like under the German Occupation. But when they made us wear this badge of honor last May, I knew no French Jews would be spared, even those with a French surname. I believed Vichy would protect my family and me, but as you said, I was mistaken. We could never imagine that the French government would be a party to such a crime."

"A French kike or a Polish kike, it's all the same to the Gestapo, old man."

"I'm sorry that I intruded on your work. I'll go," said Serrault.

"Please do."

The old man started to leave but stopped.

"Have you ever heard of an Englishman named Nicholas Owen?"

"No."

"When Elizabeth I was persecuting Catholics in sixteenth-century England, she outlawed all priests and the celebration of the Catholic ma.s.s. Catholics had to practice their religion in secret. If discovered, priests were tortured and executed, so they had to hide. Owen designed and built hiding places for Jesuit priests in manor houses all over England. They were called priest holes, and they were so well hidden that the queen's soldiers would tear apart a house for a week and never find them. He saved many lives."

"And what happened to him?"

"He was caught and racked to death in the Tower of London."

"That's a great story," replied the architect. "I knew it would have a happy ending."

"But he was a righteous man-just like you, monsieur," said Serrault as he opened the door to leave.

24.

"This roof will have to be a lot higher now. Berlin has decided to install a permanent crane inside the building. It'll be much easier to have one on-site all the time," said Herzog, puffing away on his cigarette. He'd already gone through a pack in the two hours since he arrived at Lucien's office to review the plans for the armaments factory in Tremblay.

Alain walked over from his drafting table. "The roof could angle up here so it looks like it's blending into the main roof, then it won't look awkward," he said, pointing at the front elevation of the factory. "In fact, there should be an opening in the roof for another crane to lift the interior one out in one piece so it wouldn't have to be disa.s.sembled."

"That's an excellent idea, young man," said Herzog, who offered Alain a cigarette. "You've hired yourself one smart kid, Lucien."

Lucien glared at Alain. He was about to make a similar comment about the roofline. He hated it when anyone-especially a know-it-all kid out of school-made any suggestions about how he should design. But he saw that the German was impressed with Alain, and it made Lucien look good for hiring him, so he didn't make a big deal out of it. This wasn't the first time that Alain had stuck his pointy nose into design matters. He'd thought the entry to the plant in Chaville should be stepped down to reduce the scale of the main facade and that the windows should have been vertical in orientation, instead of horizontal. Lucien had felt like telling him to go straight to h.e.l.l, but he'd held his tongue.

Lucien knew he shouldn't be complaining. After all, Alain was the best employee he'd ever had. His draftsmans.h.i.+p was impeccable, he was extremely intelligent, and best of all, he knew construction inside and out. But it was his know-it-all att.i.tude that Lucien disliked. All kids out of architecture school were full of themselves, believing that they were great designers from day one. Alain would be a model worker, but never someone to take under one's wing to mentor and advise. He didn't think he needed any advice.

"The front doors look a little puny. They have to accommodate a ma.s.s of workers on three s.h.i.+ft changes a day," remarked Alain.

Lucien could feel the rage creeping up his throat.

"They could be widened, say half a meter for each door," said Herzog, tapping his long, well-manicured fingers on the doors on the plan. "What do you say, Lucien?"

Lucien gave Alain the evil eye. Alain smiled back at him.

"I don't see a problem with that. There's plenty of room to widen them," said Lucien.

"Fantastic. Alain, can you make these changes right away?"

"Of course, Major; they'll be finished by tomorrow."

What a G.o.dd.a.m.n bootlicker, thought Lucien, who gave a phony smile of approval.

"Would you like the rear door widened as well, Major?" asked Alain.

"That would be good," replied Herzog.

The pencil in Lucien's hand snapped in two. "Alain, could I see you in the storage room for a second?"

Lucien closed the door once Alain was inside, then grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. "Listen, you little s.h.i.+t; if you ever open your mouth with one of your suggestions, I'll cut off your b.a.l.l.s and stuff them up your nostrils."

Alain stared straight into Lucien's eyes but didn't say a word. After a few seconds, Lucien took his hands off him. He immediately regretted what he'd done but offered no apology. They both returned to the studio.

"We make a terrific team, all three of us, eh?" said Herzog. "It's time for lunch. What about the Cafe Hiver? My treat, gentlemen." Lucien knew the Cafe Hiver was reserved for Germans only, and no Frenchmen would see him there so he could accept.

"That's most kind, Dieter, but before we go, I'd like to show you a few more sketches for the plant. It'll only take a minute. Alain will get them; they're on my desk."

Lucien was well aware that Alain hated to be treated as a gofer, and sure enough, the boy scowled at him before going over to the desk. He made no effort to find the correct sketches but grabbed a handful of pieces of white tracing paper and stomped back.

One by one, Lucien reviewed the sketches with Herzog, working through the pile until only a single pencil sketch remained. Before Lucien could stop him, Herzog picked up the sketch and examined it.

"Mm, I don't recognize this, Lucien. What is it, something for the mechanical room?"

An ice-cold sensation ran down the middle of Lucien's back, and his eyes widened ever so slightly in fear. He gently took the paper out of Herzog's hand. Alain, who had been looking at Lucien, noticed his reaction.

"It looks like a metal frame around some brick. You didn't tell me about that detail. Is this something I have to add to the drawings?" asked Alain.

"It's for another job, not anything we're doing for Major Herzog," Lucien said. "It must have gotten mixed up with the other sketches on my desk."

"What other job?" said Alain.

"It's...nothing," Lucien said. "We're finished here; let's go to lunch."

Lucien brought the pile of sketches back to his desk, but he slowly folded one of them and put it in the center drawer of his desk and locked it.

25.

As Alain was wriggling the blade of his penknife in Lucien's locked desk drawer in the middle of the night, his mind replayed the odd events of the day. He could see that Lucien was quite shaken, barely touching his food during lunch and hardly speaking at all. It was as if Lucien had seen a ghost when that sketch appeared in the pile of papers. Alain definitely knew something was amiss when Lucien told him that he wasn't going back to the office, and he could have the rest of the day off. Alain protested that he had to make the major's revisions, but Lucien yelled at him, telling him he had to enjoy life and not work all the time.

Alain was still furious over the incident in the storage room. How dare that no-talent s.h.i.+t put his hands on him and threaten him? For a fraction of a second, Alain had wanted to punch Lucien in the gut, but he'd thought better of it. It would've queered things with the Germans, and he'd be out on the street without a job, and his Uncle Hermann might not be able to help him. His dislike of his boss had been growing every day with each slight piling one on top of another. Alain might as well have been a n.i.g.g.e.r servant. Lucien knew everything about architecture; you couldn't tell him a d.a.m.n thing. Every one of Alain's design suggestions was welcomed by Herzog; couldn't his boss see that? Yesterday had been the final straw. But he'd bide his time in getting even.

When he went home after work, he'd tried to figure out what had spooked Lucien so. How could a sketch of some bricks upset him? He couldn't get to sleep thinking about it. He had to see that sketch again. He read until 2:00 a.m., then got up, got dressed, and went to the office. Lucien had given him his own key after his first week, so he could work into the evening if he wanted. He was taking a huge risk being out on the streets after the curfew; the Germans could pick him up. But it didn't scare him. If that happened, it was just a simple matter of calling his uncle to clear up a misunderstanding.

Patiently, Alain kept working the blade back and forth until he heard a click. The drawer slid open, and he rifled through the papers until he found a folded one. Before he pulled it out, he made sure he remembered exactly where he'd found it. It was pitch black in the office, so Alain took the lamp off the desk, set it on the floor, and turned it on. Under the light, he could see the sketch was the one he'd seen that morning-a metal frame one meter square enclosing some bricks. He turned the paper over and found another view of the bricks with what seemed like a fireplace andiron connected to it. Alain kept staring at the drawing, but it made no sense to him at all. Lucien had never mentioned that he was doing any residential work, and this was just an odd detail of something, not a project.

There were also a few notes in pencil on the sketches, giving some dimensions and sizes of the metal frame. One note called out that the new mortar should match the existing mortar. Alain sat on the bare wood floor and rubbed his eyes. He was getting tired, and not having solved the puzzle, he decided to leave. As he was returning the sketch to its proper place, he heard the lift coming up. He quickly slid the drawer shut and replaced the lamp. He stood by the door to the office and listened. When the lift stopped at the office floor, he immediately knew who it was and retreated to the rear of the office into the storage closet. As he shut the door, he heard the key turn in the lock and the click of a light switch.

Through a crack in the door, he saw Lucien walk briskly to the desk and unlock the drawer. With a solemn expression, he carefully pulled out the sketch and unfolded it. He examined it carefully as if this was the first time he'd ever seen it. Then he stared into s.p.a.ce for almost an entire minute before he folded it up and stuck it in his inside jacket pocket. He sat in his chair and dialed the phone.

"I know it's late, but I needed to speak to you," said Lucien. "It's important that we hold off on the fireplace...No, nothing has happened; I just think we should wait...I need a little more time...I know how many people are involved in this...I'm one of those people involved in this...Oh, very well, you can have the drawing tomorrow...No, I promise it will be delivered to the usual place...You have my word, Monsieur Manet...I tell you nothing is wrong...I'm just a bit jumpy...No, I don't know why," Lucien said and hung up the phone.

Lucien sat down at his desk and began to draw on another sheet of white paper. After twenty minutes, he stood up and lit a match. Holding the first drawing in his right hand, he set it afire and watched it burn into a black crisp, disintegrating into ashes, which floated to the floor. He took the new drawing, folded it, and placed it in his side jacket pocket. After straightening up his desk, he walked to the door and left.

As Alain watched all of this, a great sense of excitement was building up inside of him. He loved reading mysteries and watching them at the cinema. Now here was a real-life mystery to solve. He still couldn't figure out what the detail meant, but in time he was certain he would. Manet was mixed up in this, and that made the whole mystery even more fascinating. After walking to the door to listen if the lift had made it down to the first floor, Alain sat down for a while to ponder the problem. It had to be something quite dangerous to call for all this intrigue. Why all this fuss about a fireplace?

26.

"I'm going to take off the blindfold. Ready?"

Adele loved this game. It was exciting and decidedly erotic. When she and Schlegal had finished their lunch at the little inn in Savran, he'd blindfolded her after they got back into his car and had told her he had a wonderful surprise to show her. The sensation of being blindfolded while riding in the car was wonderful. Her senses of hearing and smell were intensified. Adele could feel every vibration of the road and smell the cut rye in the fields they pa.s.sed. Soon, the car came to a stop and her Gestapo lover guided her gently out and onto a stone walk.

"I'm going crazy with curiosity, you evil man."

"Just a few more steps," Schlegal said before yanking off the white handkerchief.

"My G.o.d, this is incredible!" Adele said.

"It's all yours, my love. All thirty rooms. Until the Reich decides how to dispose of it."

In front of Adele stood a seventeenth-century hunting lodge with corner towers capped by witch's-hat roofs. Surrounding the building was a dense forest of huge ancient trees, almost blocking out the sky.

"It's as wonderful as Chateau de Chambord. I was there for dinner once, did I ever tell you that?"

"Yes, a few hundred times, my sweet," said Schlegal. "Now you have your own chateau to do with whatever you like."

"I can't wait to show Bette, she'll be so jealous," she giggled. Her high heels clattered on the stone path as she ran up to the giant front doors and flung them open. When Schlegal walked in, she was racing uncontrollably from room to room on the first floor.

"It's completely furnished," she shouted.

"Down to the last pot in the kitchen, which you'll see is as big as a ballroom."

"I'll be able to entertain two hundred, at least."

"At least," said Schlegal.

Adele could see that her lover was quite pleased with himself, knowing this little present would win her heart.