The Paris Architect: A Novel Part 30

"Even better than at rue de Ba.s.sano. Does your architect know what the word mensch means?"

"Yes, I once explained that word to him."

"Please tell him again for me that he's a mensch."

"I'll never see him again. He's made arrangements to leave the city. But I think he now knows that."

"So what's next, my old friend? Did your architect prepare another hiding place for me?"

"After today, it's become too dangerous for all that. You're going to Spain, tonight. It's extremely risky, but I think we can manage it."

"After today's experience, it'll seem like child's play."

"We must leave now; the building could still be under surveillance from across the street. Do you by any chance happen to know the Lord's Prayer?"

"No, Auguste, they neglected to teach me that in Hebrew school. What, are you going to Christianize me?"

Manet walked over to the side of the door of the apartment and picked up a large bundle wrapped in brown paper and handed it to Ja.n.u.sky.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do. Please put these on," said Manet.

"This is most stylish," Ja.n.u.sky said, holding up a priest's ca.s.sock. "At least it's not a nun's habit." He pulled out a hat, shoes, socks, trousers, and white s.h.i.+rt and collar.

"You are joining the priesthood for a while. In fact, tonight you're going on a pilgrimage to Lourdes, which as you know is quite close to the Spanish border."

"Am I stopping there to pray for a miracle?"

"You've already had one miracle today. Don't press your luck."

Ja.n.u.sky undressed and put on the new clothes and hat. He twirled around like a fas.h.i.+on model in front of an amused Manet.

"So? I don't look too Jewish, do I?"

"Yes, you do. We can't do anything about that nose, so keep your hat pulled down tight. And carry these rosary beads on that belt there. But first things first. Repeat after me...Our Father, who art in heaven..."

"Barukh atah adonai, eloheinu..."

"Stop."

66.

"He's not coming."

"He'll come."

"Is this the right spot? You didn't get it mixed up, did you? And what about the time?"

"This is the right spot and the right time to be here. His message was very specific. Please don't worry," replied Lucien in a cheerful tone that did a good job of masking his fear.

"I can't help it," said Bette as she looked at the backseat of the Citroen, where Emile and Carole were sleeping next to Pierre, who was wide awake and totally calm. He smiled at her.

"You'll have plenty of time for worrying. We've got a four-hour ride to the Swiss border. Anything can happen between here and there," replied Lucien, looking straight ahead through the winds.h.i.+eld into the cold December night.

"That's rea.s.suring, my love."

"That's the truth. And you always told me to tell you the truth."

"How do you know you can trust him? He's a German."

Lucien smiled at this question. It was only 9:45, and he knew Herzog would show up. An envelope had been delivered to Lucien's office instructing him to drive to St. Dizier, a town to the west of Paris. When he got there, he was to take a country road heading southeast from the town center and wait behind the ruin of a stone barn. They had been packed and ready to go all day but had to wait until dark to leave Paris. Waiting in Bette's flat had been unbearable. Any minute they expected Schlegal and his men to crash through the door. The little talk Schlegal had mentioned still hadn't been scheduled, but Lucien knew he wouldn't forget about it. He and Pierre sat by the window to keep watch for the Gestapo to pull up in front of the apartment building. If they came, Pierre and the two children would go into the window hiding place, and Monsieur Manet would fetch them later. Lucien and Bette had arranged with Manet, who was not yet under suspicion, to care for the children and get them out of France. Pierre didn't want to hide, but Lucien, in the only time he ever lost his temper with the boy, ordered him to do what he was told. The hours dragged by and mercifully nothing happened.

"He studied at the Bauhaus, you know."

"So that makes him trustworthy? Because he's an architect?"

"A modernist architect."

"You've got an odd sense of trust, my love. He's still a German, and you can never trust a German. Always remember that."

"Yes, my dear, I'll keep that in mind." Lucien rolled down his window a bit to draw in some of the cool night air. It was a beautiful clear night with a steady breeze that refreshed Lucien, evaporating the sweat that was beaded on his face. He ran both his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes to keep alert. The silence in the countryside reminded him of the deafening silence of Paris at night after the curfew, where one could hear a pin drop in the next block. The only sound he heard was the wind whispering softly through the trees that flanked the car. It was suddenly broken by the sound of cracking twigs and leaves off to his left. His heart began to pound. He continued to look straight ahead into the night, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel at ten and two o'clock. A short rap on the side of the car gave him a start. He slowly turned his head to the left and just a few centimeters away was Herzog's smiling face. He motioned for him to get out. Lucien was surprised to see the German dressed in civilian clothes. He didn't know what to make of it and was confused about what was happening.

"Do you know what you have to do?" said Herzog casually, as if he were asking Lucien to pick up his laundry.

"We'll drive to the west of Belfort to the exact point you told us, then we get out and walk across the border."

"It has to be that exact position. There'll be no guards on either side of the border there tonight," said Herzog. "You mustn't get lost."

Herzog rested his hand on Lucien's shoulder. "I brought a couple of things for your trip," said Herzog, pulling out two folded pieces of paper from his pants pocket. "It's another official pa.s.s from the armaments division authorizing you safe pa.s.sage at any time with today's date. You won't have any trouble on the road tonight."

"The French police won't get suspicious with the kids in the car?"

"Show them this too. It's a letter from me saying you're going to Montbeliard to start work on a factory, and you have to relocate your family."

"You've thought of everything."

"Not quite. This is a backup plan just in case of an emergency," said Herzog as he pulled a Luger from his other pants pocket. "It can come in handy if an unexpected problem comes up."

"Why...thank you," said Lucien, holding the b.u.t.t of the pistol uneasily.

"They did teach you how to fire a gun in the French army? I know you people aren't much good at fighting wars, just sitting around smoking, drinking, and bulls.h.i.+tting," said Herzog with a smile.

"Yes, you pull this thing," said Lucien, pointing at the trigger.

"Very good. And the bullet comes out at this end. Important to remember that."

"We have some extra room in the car. You're sure you won't come along, Dieter? You're certainly dressed for the occasion."

"I'm still a German soldier sworn to defend the Fatherland, so I'll be going back to building factories and fortifications. And there's still much to add to my art collection. You know, I may even reconstruct your building those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds in the Resistance blew up."

Lucien turned away and stared off toward a grove of trees. "When all this madness is over, I hope we meet again," said Lucien.

"We will, I'm sure of it," replied Herzog.

"I never thought I'd ever say this to a German oppressor, but I'll miss you. We made an odd team."

"That we did, my friend," Herzog agreed. "But now it's time you were on your way. You've got a long night ahead of you."

"Good-bye," said Lucien, extending his hand.

Herzog shook his hand firmly. "Good luck to you, Lucien."

Lucien turned and walked back to his car. Climbing into the driver's seat, he gave the German a final wave of the hand. Bette said nothing and looked straight ahead. He started up the engine and drove off.

Herzog lit a cigarette as he watched the red taillights of the car get smaller and smaller until they were just tiny specks of light, disappearing over the horizon. He took a deep drag and looked up into the cold night sky and saw a sea of stars above him. He knew nothing about constellations or astronomy, but he enjoyed the beautiful sight. In Paris, he had never even noticed the night sky, but out in the country it was immense, almost drawing you up into the heavens. One couldn't help but be awed by the sight. As he smoked, he continued to stare at the sky, marveling at the vast number and configurations of stars. Finally, he threw down the b.u.t.t, stamped it out, and turned to look down the road. After about a minute, headlights appeared on the horizon. Herzog took one more look up into the sky then walked slowly into the woods, where he had hidden his car. He opened the front pa.s.senger door and pulled out a green canvas bag and a machine gun. Behind some bushes at the very edge of the road, he waited as a car raced toward him. When the car was about fifty meters away, he stepped up onto the edge of the road and fired the machine gun. Bullets ripped through the winds.h.i.+eld and side windows, and the car careened to the right and ran off the other side of the road. Herzog walked toward a gray-green German staff car, which came to a dead stop almost directly opposite where he was standing. A soldier was slumped over the wheel, and two officers were moving around in the backseat. Setting the machine gun down on the road, Herzog casually reached into the canvas bag he carried on his other shoulder and pulled out a stick hand grenade. He moved a few steps closer and threw the grenade by its long wooden handle. It skidded under the car and exploded, causing it to rise a meter off the ground and burst into a ball of flame. Herzog watched the inferno for a few seconds then walked back to his car and pulled it out from its hiding place. Driving back to Paris, he smiled to himself. He knew Schlegal would never ignore an anonymous tip.

As Lucien drove through the night, he realized he wasn't scared. Despite the danger still ahead of them, they were going to make it. He was certain of it. As he stared at the beams of the headlights piercing the empty road stretching in front of him, he smiled as he imagined what his father would've thought of what had happened in the last six months. His son had been a G.o.dd.a.m.n fool. For a bunch of Jews! What madness. "Didn't I teach you anything, boy?" Professor Bernard would've sighed and said, "A child's failures are the parent's failures." But Lucien knew he hadn't failed in the least. He thought he didn't have it in him to help another human being. But to his great surprise, he did. He was proud of it. And he had proved his father wrong.

He was amazed that such good fortune had come to him in such terrible times. They say that nothing good comes of war, but that wasn't true. Meeting Bette, his friends.h.i.+p with Herzog and Manet, and above all finding Pierre. Their paths would've never crossed if it hadn't been for the war.

"Do you think everything will be all right?" whispered Bette in a scared voice. She had not said a word since they drove off.

"Everything will be fine."

Bette leaned over and kissed his cheek, then laid her head on his shoulder. Lucien knew she believed him, and that absolute trust gave him a very comforting feeling. He turned the heat up and gently pushed his foot down on the gas pedal so the acceleration wouldn't wake anyone. The Citroen, with its quiet purring motor, was like a warm coc.o.o.n protecting them as it sped through the cold night.

It had all been an illusion, Lucien knew. The buildings, the arches, the sweeping, graceful lines. All this time he had been wors.h.i.+pping a facade of concrete and gla.s.s.

Lucien could tell from her soft breathing that Bette had fallen asleep. Turning, he looked at the three sleeping children huddled under a blue woolen blanket on the backseat. Curled in a ball in the folds of the blanket was Misha. He smiled at the family. His family.

Reading Group Guide.

1. Why did the majority of people in France refuse to help the Jews during World War II?

2. Do you think anti-Semitism influenced a person's decision on whether to help others?

3. What do you think of the people who hid Jews in exchange for money? Was it evil and exploitive or a fair business transaction?

4. In the beginning of the novel, Lucien didn't care about what happened to the Jews. Discuss how his character evolved throughout the novel. How did your opinion of him change?

5. The Germans were disgusted that the French always informed on one another during the Occupation. Would you a.s.sume that this is a common war practice? Why? In what ways does war bring out the worst in people? In what ways does it bring out the best in people?

6. Many spouses abandoned each other because one was Jewish. What did you think when Juliette Trenet's husband left her? Is there any defense for what he did?

7. One reason Lucien helped Jews was to get architectural commissions from Manet. Did you agree with the French Resistance? Did Lucien's love of design and the need to prove his talent cross the line into collaboration with the enemy?

8. Most fiction and films portray n.a.z.is as monsters during World War II. Do you believe that some German military men secretly hated or doubted what they were doing? Does following the crowd make these men just as bad as those who carried out their duties without conscience?

9. Discuss the unusual relations.h.i.+p between Lucien and Herzog. Can two men from warring countries be friends?

10. Lucien was already taking an enormous risk by hiding Jews for Manet; why do you think he agreed to take in Pierre?

11. What was your impression of Father Jacques? What kind of role do you think faith plays throughout the novel?

12. Adele had no qualms about sleeping with the enemy. Why would she take such a risk?

13. Bette could have her pick of men but chose Lucien. Discuss what made him special in her eyes. What are the most important qualities you look for in a friend/significant other? Would you be willing to compromise on any of these qualities? For what?

14. If you were a gentile living under the n.a.z.is in World War II, do you think you would have had the courage to hide Jews? What consequences are you willing to face to help others?

15. It's easy to say, knowing what we do about the horrors that occurred during WWII, that we would have helped Jews with nowhere to hide. How do you think you'd react if a similar situation occurred today? Do you think it's even possible for a similar situation to occur in our age and day? Why? Why not?

16. Suppose you had been taken from your apartment by Captain Bruckner and lined up in the street. If you knew your life was about to end, what would you be thinking about?

17. If you were under the stairs in the Geibers' place during the Gestapo's search, how would you have reacted?

18. Schlegal was disappointed that the people he tortured always talked. What do you think were the motivations behind someone who talked and someone who didn't? If you were in a situation where someone was trying to get information from you, what would be the final straw to make you talk?

Author Q & A.

1. How did you first become interested in writing?

When I went back to Columbia University, I had to write a thesis for my master's degree. I found that I really enjoyed doing the research and writing the thesis. I'd never written a word before that. So I decided that I'd like to write a book. I co-auth.o.r.ed The Baltimore Rowhouse, then went on to write three more books on architectural history on my own. I also became a freelance writer for the Baltimore Sun and New York Times, which I didn't enjoy as much as writing the books.

2. Why did you start writing fiction?