The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [72]
His stare tracked over her as she perched on the chair. She slid her shaking hands out of sight beneath her legs. Her identification and the package were piled neatly in front on him.
“Mrs. Badeau,” he said.
She held her breath and waited.
He watched her, unbuttoned the top button of his jacket, his lips formed the slightest smile. “I am Kapitän Heydrich.”
He meant to calm her, she realized, to show her he meant her no harm. She bit off a hysterical laugh in the back of her mouth. He might actually believe she was Claire Badeau. A meddling American on a mission of mercy.
“Mrs. Badeau, why have you come here?”
“Kapitän Heydrich,” she said with a smile, “do you mean Paris or this building?”
“Both.”
Claire leaned forward in her chair. “I married a Frenchman. He died. I stayed in Paris because, well, I don’t like being lonely.”
His eyebrows raised a fraction as he realized what she meant. “Does Paris meet your needs?”
She let a flush roll up her cheeks, an embarrassed grin. “It is improving.”
His lips twitched toward a smile as he lit a cigarette, accepted the compliment for the entire German army. “And why are you here today?”
Claire shrugged. Not too interested, Odette had warned. “I am a member of Foyer du Soldat. I have a list of prisoners to deliver packages to. Food, necessities.” Claire pulled the slip from her purse and dropped it on top of the papers on his desk. “Mr. Nash is on my list.”
“Do you know Mathew Nash?”
Claire shook her head and pointed toward the list.
With the cigarette, he gestured at her identification card in front of him. “How long have you stayed at this address?”
“Since May 1940.”
“Your neighbors?” he said.
“What about them?” Claire fought to keep her voice smooth. These questions weren’t part of the note and not part of the plan. This had to be wrong.
“They know you?”
Claire smiled at Heydrich, glanced at her watch. “Kapitän, I understand you have an important job to do, but I do have a lunch date. Perhaps you could see that this package gets to Nash for me, and I could be on my way?”
He stared at her, his expression didn’t change. She saw suspicion in his eyes.
She smiled at him then, lowered her tone. “You do have my address. You could always come by some evening if you had any other questions.”
He leaned back in his chair, took a deep drag of his cigarette. “Perhaps.” He grabbed her papers and the package, and walked to the door. He turned and looked back at her, buttoning his top button. “Wait.” He left and locked the door behind him.
Claire released the breath she’d been holding. Muffled voices grew and then receded down the hall. Claire shot off the chair, across the room, and pressed her ear against the door. Silence. She rattled the handle. It didn’t budge.
She’d roomed with a girl once who could pick locks with a hairpin. A useful talent when they were kicked out of their apartment. But Claire didn’t have a hairpin. She turned to the desk.
The first three drawers were locked. The fourth slid open with a bang. Once her heart started beating again, she found an expensive fountain pen, a pack of cigarettes and one paperclip.
Claire bent it and stuck the pointed end into the lock. She pressed her ear against the door and shut her eyes, relying on her fingers to tell her when something gave. A loud snap startled her. She dropped the paperclip, fell backward and smacked the chair with her hip.
The doorknob rattled, then turned. Claire shoved herself onto her chair. She landed in the seat as the door opened.
“The package was delivered. Mr. Nash sends his warmest regards.” Heydrich closed the door behind him.
It took everything she had to smile, nod her thanks.
He locked the door and leaned back against it, her passport and identification card held up in front of him like a game of keep-away. “Your lunch appointment?”
“Of course.” Claire stood, smoothing her skirt. She reached for the card.
He grabbed her hand and jerked her toward the wall. The door rattled on its hinges as she hit, the wind knocked out of her. He