Page 70 of The Librarian Spy

Something in the distance clicked and the light went out, blanketing her in a momentarily disorienting darkness.

In that instant, she was entirely alone in the cold blackness of the world.

The enormity of her sorrow swelled inside her, absent any warmth or life. In that moment, the courtyard became a direct reflection of her own soul, bearing the agony of her pain, of her grief. She stumbled back into the street and struggled to drag in a breath of air even as it burned in her lungs. By habit more than intent, she lifted her watch to find it was very nearly eight at night.

Radio Londres would be airing soon after her return if she hurried back. There might be more detail given on Sarah and Noah.

The thought roused her to her senses, tugging her up from the doldrums by her bootstraps.

“Halt.”

She spun around to find a German officer directly behind her.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded in French.

“I was visiting a friend,” she said even as her mind tried to catch up with the lie her mouth expelled.

“A friend.” His narrowed eyes glittered in the darkness like something evil and soulless. “This building has been emptied, all the occupants arrested this afternoon.”

“That would explain why my friend was not home,” she replied smoothly, her pulse pounding. “What have they done that everyone would be taken?”

But even as she feigned ignorance, she knew. Fear prickled at her scalp and screamed for her to run. Several months before, she might have been able to. Before Corsica won the battle for its freedom from the Nazi oppressors.

Now, the Germans shot without question, bathing the streets in blood with their determination to maintain their viselike grip on France.

The officer called to someone in German. A fresh-faced boy-soldier who barely looked old enough to shave emerged from the shadows beyond a streetlamp’s perfect circle of yellow light.

“Go inside and see if any messages have been placed within.” The officer spoke in French, purposefully wanting her to have understood him.

Elaine used all her willpower to school her face into a bland expression, refusing to betray the fear vibrating through her. If they found the papers, she would be dead.

They waited for a long moment as the boy did what he was told. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering from terror as much as from the cold. The officer appeared impervious to the weather, most likely from the heavy coat he wore and the girth of his prominent belly jutting beneath. The boy emerged several minutes later and spoke in German.

The officer glared at Elaine and dread tingled over her skin.

Had they found the newspapers?

“I’m sure he’s proven my innocence,” she said in a brusque tone she prayed would be convincing.

The officer didn’t deign to reply. Nor did he look convinced. Instead, he reached for her with an unfriendly hand, trapping her where she stood. “You are under arrest.”

SEVENTEEN

Ava

Every day James met Ava downstairs to walk to the kiosk with her, and every day he had the same answer about the possibility of a rescue plan for the Jewish mother and child in Lyon: no news yet. Though Ava had been reluctant to accept his offer to join her in the mornings, she had to admit that she’d not seen the German since James began accompanying her.

Additionally, Alfonso nodded at their morning arrival in silent confirmation that everything appeared to be clear. So it was that time went by without incident and Thanksgiving came and went. The occasion was marked with a quiet affair at the embassy with far more roasted fowl, heavy gravies, potatoes, and candied yams than any of them could possibly eat. Ava had jokingly invited James, who respectfully declined.

The following week, the next issue of Combat fell into Ava’s hands with a similar message slipped into yet another article. Which meant the plea for help still had not been answered. Its recurrence dug at her thoughts often enough that she tried finding her own avenue.

However, any attempts to acquire US assistance were met with a stern rejection from Sims and anyone else she managed to snag on the phone in DC.

November shifted into December with Christmas bringing a sad little tree in the corner of Ava’s apartment, drenched in tinsel the way her mother had always done in their childhood. Beneath it lay a V Mail envelope with a letter from Daniel she saved to make the day more special. Only it brought scarce comfort as she read it, unable to stop the image of him jumping out of a plane into the unknown and sheltering in an icy trench somewhere. Such thoughts left her with tears in her eyes and a hollow ache in her chest.

James had shown up then with a roasted turkey far too large for the two of them as well as every pastry he could find, all sparkling with sugar crusts and some with brightly colored jams leaking from their flaky centers. He also brought a gift for her, a new messenger bag wide enough to hold the newspapers on her daily collection. It was fortunate she had purchased him a present as well: a copy of A Study in Scarlet, the first of the Sherlock Holmes books, which he received with a broad grin.

By the time New Year’s arrived, there hadn’t even been a discussion if they would spend it together. They simply went to the Palacio in Estoril where they sipped champagne and nibbled canapés in their finest clothes. What hadn’t been expected was the kiss they shared at midnight and how James hadn’t needed a single line of recited verse to coax it from her.