The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [113]
A server in a white coat offered glasses of champagne on a silver tray. He leaned into Claire as he handed her a flute. “A friend awaits you.”
“Where?” Claire said under her breath.
He tilted his head toward a side door. “Go left.”
“I need to powder my nose. Don’t forget me,” Claire said to von Richter with a wink. He nodded and turned to the officers.
The door opened into a long hall. Claire passed by two servers loaded down with trays, then paused, a glance back, then descended a long set of stairs. The air turned chill and damp. The walls were heavy stone, marked with writing, and cold under her hand. She shivered as the stairs ended at a small room, the far side shrouded in darkness.
“Bonsoir, Evelyn.” Odette stepped from the gloom.
“You took your sweet time to contact me, Danielle.”
“You must leave Paris,” Odette said. “While you still can.”
“Didn’t you look at my message? You have to figure out those codes, what they mean.”
Odette shook her head impatiently. “Information is being leaked to the SS. We will find and plug that leak. But right now, we cannot risk your knowledge of us getting to the Nazis. You must go.”
“I’m inside the Ritz, Odette. Where you wanted me to be. What I passed to you is just a taste.”
“Your Nazi, von Richter, is Sicherheitsdienst. Nazi intelligence. He points, the Gestapo kills. You will be forced to choose between Grey and a man who holds your life in his hand. You will compromise us all with him.”
“Grey could be on a list. Or others. I have to take the chance.”
“Christophe won’t allow you to proceed,” Odette said.
“Grey needs your help. I am offering you a real chance. You are going to walk away from that and turn your fight against me?” Claire fought the urge to shake her.
“They will stop you.”
Claire turned back toward the stairs.
Odette’s voice echoed off the stone walls. “You endanger everyone you know, everyone you touch. This is your warning. Your only warning. If you don’t leave now, you are on your own, you understand?”
The sheets tangled around Claire’s legs as she traced lines on von Richter’s bare back with the soft tip of her silk stocking. He leaned off the side of his bed, pouring a glass of scotch from a half-empty bottle.
Claire felt as though she were made from glass. Her heartache bled through to her skin. It was good von Richter was damn drunk.
“You’ve gone too quiet. Entertain me,” he said.
Claire crawled onto his back, wrapping the stocking around them both. “I was wondering, Alby, how you got to be here.”
He took a long drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you long ago. There is a thing about this town and the women.”
Claire took the glass from his hand and drank. “You’re too handsome to need a uniform, Alby. And rich. They would spread their legs for you anyway. Why this?” She gestured at his uniform crumpled on the floor.
He frowned, took back the glass, refilled and drank again. “I cared nothing for Hitler’s party. They are too serious, too sacrificing. But what could I do? I was going to get pulled in one way or another. In Germany, one must participate.” With an arm, he swept her off his back and rolled over to face her. He raised his glass to her. “This way I came to Paris. My dirty factories are chugging along in Saxony and churning out money, without me.” He leaned in to kiss her. “Like you, I came here for pleasure.”
“What happened to your partner, Merkel? Is he stuck in the factories?”
He shrugged and dropped the empty glass. The heavy crystal thudded as it hit the carpet. “Come to find out, his grandfather was a Jew.”
Claire’s stomach turned. She forced a smile and pushed him onto his back, straddling him, then reached for the bottle. She welcomed the burn that slid down her throat like a flaming bomb. Better to feel that than the chill that cramped her chest. You don’t get to kill Grey too, she told him silently. She slid her hand between his legs.
When the empty bottle lay abandoned on the floor and von Richter’s heavy snore filled the room, Claire slipped