Page 25 of The Last Library of Paris

I nodded. ‘We have funds. And I have the Red Cross ready to help, and others. But I need your approval, or it won’t happen. We can’t send packages out across France and the rest of Europe without the Nazis knowing about it.’

Fischer pulled out a copy of Crime and Punishment and studied it. ‘What are people reading?’ he asked. ‘In these times of change.’

‘At first there was a lot of demand for funny books,’ I said. ‘PG Wodehouse, that sort of thing.’

Fischer shuddered. ‘And now?’

‘More history,’ I said. ‘Learning lessons from the past.’

My palms were sweating, and I could feel my heart pumping in my chest. I’d worked so hard on this idea, and I really wanted it to go ahead. I was horribly aware that Fischer could stop it with one stroke of his pencil.

‘The books would have to be checked before they are sent out, to ensure there is not propaganda hidden inside. If anything were to be found, we would stop the service immediately.’

‘Of course.’

He slid Crime and Punishment back into the shelf. ‘But I see no reason why this …’

‘Soldiers’ Book Service,’ I said. ‘That’s what we’re calling it.’

‘I can see no reason why this Soldiers’ Book Service can’t go ahead.’ He looked at me. ‘I hold you in high regard, Miss Reed. You have the approval of the Bibliotheksschutz.’

Chapter 6

Cassie

Lisbon

Senhor Alves was officially sanctioned the following Monday morning.

As Bea had predicted, he was dismissed in disgrace. But he went down fighting. When I’d seen Lara at the bar over the weekend, she told me the lights at his office had been on every night as he worked through the small hours, getting as much done as he could before he was forced to stop.

And, with nothing else to do, and eight days left before I could return to work, I’d been making some plans of my own.

I sat at my desk in the clerical department, which was empty because I’d come to work early. And I looked at my notepad and allowed myself a small smile. I worked in an embassy for heaven’s sake. And not just any embassy; I worked in the British Embassy.

Full of determination, I got up, tucked my notebook under my arm and headed off to the top floor. As I went up the wide, tiled stairs – ever so slightly breathless at the exertion – I passed a young man, whom I knew by sight. I nodded to him, and he did the same to me, and we went on our way. And then as I turned to go up the last flight of steps, I paused, my hand on the smooth wooden banister. I’d seen that man somewhere recently. Not here in the embassy, but elsewhere.

I peered down the middle of the stairs, but he was gone.

Wondering where I’d seen him, but confident it would come back to me now I’d thought of it, I made my way up to the offices on the top floor where my friend Edith worked.

Edith had been my first friend in Lisbon. She was much older than me – if it hadn’t been for the war, she’d have retired and been happily living in her hometown of Oxford surrounded by books by now. But as it was, she was still running the documents department with the ferocity and efficiency she’d employed for years.

I knocked on the door and pushed it open.

‘No,’ she said, from across the room without looking up. ‘It is Monday morning, and it is unreasonable to request a visa at this hour of the day …’ As she glanced up and saw it was me, her face softened.

‘Cassie,’ she said. ‘This is a treat. What brings you up to the fourth floor?’

‘Can’t a person just pay a visit to an old friend?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘A person can,’ she said. ‘You, Cassie, cannot. What is it you’re after?’

Edith was the only person in the embassy – apart from Digby and now Valentine and Hughes – who knew what my real job was. She’d produced all sorts of paperwork over the last few years, for me and for members of my various teams.

I glanced at the door, which I had left ajar, and reading my mind, Edith went and closed it firmly.

‘What do you need?’