Page 32 of The Paris Agent
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.”
“Thiswill 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 justnotgo 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.
