The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [117]
Lost in thought, she turned off Faubourg Saint-Honoré onto rue du Colisée, her feet making their way to their old home. Claire looked up to a tattered blue awning flapping in a brisk summer breeze over Madame Palain’s flower shop. Claire froze, the image burned onto her mind. Only the words La Vie remained. The dark windows were boarded shut. Her chest aching, she turned and hurried back to the hotel.
In her room, Claire dressed carefully in a dark grey suit, matching pillbox hat and black heels. She stood in front of the mirror and tipped her hat forward over her curls. The woman staring back had the body and face men enjoyed. But her eyes were ice.
She took a long route, up boulevard Haussmann to rue de Monceau. Turning onto rue Rembrandt, she entered parc Monceau. The air was sweet with the smell of blooms. Lush greenery invited a stroll, a quiet picnic, more. She thought of Grey, of his body enveloping hers in the grass. She plucked a white rose blossom from a bush and tucked it into her lapel.
She turned onto a narrow curving lane. She paused, her gaze on the hedges surrounding the large oval pool. The skin on her neck began to prickle. No one to be seen, but she knew what it felt like to be watched.
Across the pool were the tall marble columns, wrapped in ivy. Claire’s stomach churned as she stared into the murky pool, rubbed her clammy hands on her jacket.
“Bonjour, Claire.”
She turned. Jacques leaned against a twisting tree trunk, cigarette in his hand.
“You mean Evelyn.”
He shrugged. “It’s a bit too late for that between us.”
“Perhaps. But not for Kinsel. Or Grey.”
He faced her in two fast strides, his body inches from hers. “Who?”
“You know where I’ve been,” she said. “What I’ve been doing—”
“Who you’ve been fucking.”
“It paid off. I know where your precious Kinsel is and I know where he is going.”
“Why did you say Grey just now?”
“Because they are together. Kinsel and Grey,” she said.
He looked over her shoulder and took a drag from his cigarette.
The fear in Claire snapped. “Don’t you care? Grey is your friend. I’ve seen photos of him with your son.” When she took a breath, she realized she had been yelling. Her cheeks were wet.
He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, started to speak then stopped.
She wiped her eyes. “I know you don’t care about me. Not anymore. I did what I had to do. For Grey and for those girls. And I found him.”
“In the note you said there was a price for Kinsel.”
“Yeah. There is. Get Grey too.”
“That all?”
“No.”
He smirked.
“I want two transports on an escape line out of here.”
“For you and who else? This German?” He dropped the cigarette on the ground and carefully snubbed it out with his boot. Finally he looked up at her. “Odette didn’t come today because she refused to do what was necessary. What was ordered.”
Claire’s body went cold.
“You demanded payment to help the Resistance. You survived unharmed when Grey was captured. You live like a queen with Nazi scum, you said to find Grey, but we were betrayed again. And this time, we lost Kinsel and seven good men. Maybe you are a traitor; maybe you are greedy. I cannot say. But you have become too great of a risk.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pistol. “I am here to end this.”
She stared him straight in the eyes. “A prison transport. They are in Montluc. They are going to be transported to Compiègne on July twenty-third. There will be eleven transport trucks, at least sixty-five prisoners. I don’t know how many soldiers. But that will be your chance. You have to do it.” Her body tensed in anticipation of a bullet.
He held the gun steady, his finger against the trigger. But Claire saw uncertainty in his eyes.
“You’re right. I’m not a good person. No one should do the things I’ve done. But someday this goddamn war will end. And it won’t matter who we killed if we didn’t save those we love.” She stepped forward,