Shadows In Paris (Seagrove & Raven #2)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

O ccupied France, January 1941

Lizzie cycled to the train station in Reims. Pierre had wanted to drop her nearby in his truck, but she insisted on going alone, so she didn’t draw attention to the local network.

She saw the regret in his eyes, but there was resignation too. Pierre knew it was for the best, so she borrowed the bicycle she had used on her last visit. He strapped her case to the back of the bicycle, and after saying goodbye to Camille and Pierre, she had set off with a wave over her shoulder.

Camille had tears in her eyes when they parted and had hugged Lizzie so tight, it had made her tearful too. She told Lizzie she was welcome to stay with them any time. ‘I look forward to when we won’t need to hide you, but until that magical day comes, there will always be a bed for you in the secret room.’

Lizzie cycled along the track. Reims looked so different in winter. There was a light frost covering the ground, and she burrowed into her coat as the morning winds chilled her face.

Gone were the plump grapes swaying on the vines, ready to be harvested and gone were the breathtaking views and flowering hedges. Everything looked shrivelled and brown rather than lush and green. Reims was in hibernation, and it was hard to equate this cold, barren land with the stunning landscape of the previous summer.

She had worn light dresses then, and now she was covered from head to foot in heavy clothing. The bicycle wheels whizzed across the country tracks until she turned onto a back road that Pierre had marked for her on a map as the safest route to the station. The beautiful Reims cathedral she had visited on her first mission was on the other side of town, and she wasn’t familiar with this area.

Her pulse raced as she saw the imposing pale stone building appear before her against the crisp blue sky. Reims was a small city, and it was easy to get around.

Camille and Pierre were such good people, and she had been sorry to say goodbye so soon, but her mission was in Paris, not Reims.

Jack and Val had discussed the possibility of dropping her on the outskirts of Paris and decided it was too dangerous. They said there would be some risk of her being stopped on the journey from Reims, but it was ultimately a safer plan.

Lizzie looked about her for the spot where Pierre had asked her to leave the bicycle. He would pick it up in his truck later, after he checked no one was monitoring the area. All these little moves were a lot of effort, but she was learning fast that it was the little moves that could mean the difference between life and death.

She shivered, partly from the cold and partly from the fear that crawled over her skin as she saw clusters of German soldiers and French police around the station.

Jack’s words rang in her head. ‘They will be alert for anything out of the ordinary. Stations are one of the key places they look for agents. Don’t give them anything strange to notice. Take careful, slow movements and breathe so you look calm. No running or rushing. That catches the eye, and they’ll stop you just for the sake of it.’

Breathe…

Her first step was complete. She’d reached the station without being stopped and had left the bicycle as instructed. She had done her best to act as if she was an ordinary young French woman leaving it for when she returned later, and so far, no one had paid any attention to her.

Lizzie took several steady breaths as she entered the station. Her heart thudded, but she breathed through it as her heels clip-clopped on the hard floor and she scanned the platform, seeking her contact.

The train was due soon, and she was losing hope of getting her ticket in time, when a young woman approached and greeted her like a close friend. She held out a cigarette to Lizzie, who smoothly extracted the ticket wedged beneath the packet and accepted a cigarette for later.

Jack had explained Pierre would arrange for a local contact to buy the ticket in advance as a precaution so she wouldn’t leave a trail. It seemed surreal that people could just buy train tickets as usual, when in every other way occupied France was like a Nazi prison. The train was due in about ten minutes, and Lizzie waited on the platform. No one had stopped her to check her papers, but she had them ready in case someone wanted to see her permission to travel.

German soldiers patrolled the station, and she did her best to blend in. No looking around, no eye contact. She was as invisible as she could make herself, and when she heard the distant rat-a-tat-tat of the train and its wheels clattered into the station, relief flooded through her, and she had to hold herself up on her weak limbs.

There were several other women waiting, and she boarded the train in the middle of the queue to be as inconspicuous as possible. Finding a seat in a compartment with just one other woman who had her head in a book, she sat and gazed out of the window.

One step closer.

God willing, the journey would be smooth and in a couple of hours, she would be in Paris looking for Hannah.

The train was delayed for no obvious reason, and Lizzie watched as more people filed onto the train and passed their compartment. Fortunately, no one else joined them and the woman was still pre-occupied with her book.

The train chugged to life as it hissed and jerked out of the station. Lizzie sat there unmoving, barely believing she was on her way to Paris.

Only yesterday afternoon she had been holed up in Jack’s flat, and they had made passionate love. There was something almost desperate in the way they had touched each other, as if they both knew it could be the last time.

Their fate wasn’t in their hands. All Lizzie could do was follow her orders and implement them to the best of her ability. And all Jack could do was wait for news from her, his agent, and the woman who had captured his heart.

They had lain on his bed, their warm limbs entangled and covered by a blanket to keep out the winter chill. ‘We’re in an impossible situation, my darling,’ he had whispered to her, and she heard the heartbreak echo in his voice.

When they first met, she would never have guessed he could be so tender and romantic. Back then, he had seemed like a bit of a brute, but underneath his tough exterior was a gentleness and passion that spoke directly to her soul .

She had read a book about soul mates and how they were connected through time and space and could feel each other’s presence no matter where they were physically. Sitting on the train in occupied France, the thought that she could feel Jack’s presence gave her strength. He said he was her raven, always watching over her, and now she had to trust that she would find her way back to him.

Lizzie tightened her coat around her and smoothed the woollen material over her legs as the train rumbled to a stop and the cold air seeped under the crack of the compartment door.

Her hand froze on her knee when she heard loud voices speaking in German. A Nazi officer’s face peered through the window and her senses reeled as she watched in slow motion as his manicured hand opened the door and he entered the compartment.

‘Bonjour, madame,’ said the officer, his voice cultured and smooth.

As he spoke, Lizzie saw his eyes flicker to the hand that rested on her knee. The narrow gold band on her ring finger had done the trick. On her last mission, she had run into serious trouble and Val had suggested her cover this time should be that of a married woman.

‘Do you think the Germans care whether a woman is married if they want her?’ Lizzie asked Jack, one afternoon when he walked her home through Regent’s Park.

‘Some do, I imagine. Many don’t. But it can only help give you an extra layer of protection. And if they don’t care, it won’t matter either way.’

It was settled. She would pose as a married woman and on further questioning she would say she hadn’t heard from her husband for months but believed him to still be in a labour camp. It wasn’t a perfect cover story, but it would have to do .

Lizzie guessed the officer who had just entered was in his thirties. He was tall, blond and good looking, and he fixed his gaze on her and tried to engage her in conversation.

‘It’s a fine day, madame, is it not?’

Lizzie nodded politely and looked towards the other woman who sat opposite them, but she kept her head firmly in her book and the officer showed no interest in her.

‘Do you live in Paris?’ he probed, undeterred by Lizzie’s unenthusiastic response.

‘I am going to stay with my sister,’ Lizzie said, her heart thudding as she fought to maintain her composure. She reasoned it could be seen as quite normal for a French woman to show discomfort around a Nazi officer. It wasn’t like they had been invited to take over France.

The officer took the hint and fell silent.

The panic in Lizzie’s chest gradually subsided, and she breathed normally again as she looked out the window at the snowy banks passing by in a blur.

It was bad luck to be sharing a compartment with an officer, but Val and Jack had prepared her for every scenario. Lizzie rehearsed her cover story in her mind, ready for the real thing.

After a few minutes, she turned to discreetly look at the officer. She needn’t have worried, his head lay at an angle against the seat, and he had fallen asleep to the hum of the train.

Lizzie let herself relax. The weariness of the previous night and lack of sleep was catching up with her. Terror had spiked her energy, but it drained out of her just as quickly when she saw he didn’t pose an immediate threat.

Just as she was getting comfortable and settling back against the seat to make the most of the quiet time before reaching Paris, the train ground to an abrupt halt. Once again, she heard loud voices and this time, she saw German soldiers running onto the train. Lizzie could barely breathe.

Had they been tipped off she was on the train and come to arrest her? She sat rigid with fear, but doing her best not to show it on her face.

The officer awoke and stood to look through the door. After a few minutes, he disappeared into the corridor and Lizzie sat there clutching the seat.

The older woman opposite her cast her a sympathetic look. ‘Don’t worry, they check the trains like this often. As long as you have nothing to hide, you’ll be fine.’

Lizzie attempted a half-smile but it was more like a wince. She had everything to hide, and the woman’s observation only increased the panic spiralling through her.

The officer re-entered the compartment. ‘A routine check,’ he said, his voice reassuring as he looked at Lizzie.

It didn’t stop Lizzie’s heart drumming, and she sat there praying inwardly that the soldiers would abandon the train and leave them in peace. It felt like forever, but then the door swung open again and two soldiers entered.

Lizzie listened carefully to the officer and understood enough to know he asked the soldiers what they were looking for.

One of them replied with a mutter, and turned away as he spoke, so she couldn’t make out the meaning of his words.

She stopped breathing as he stretched upwards and hauled her case off the overhead shelf.

‘Whose is this?’ he asked in guttural German.

Lizzie thought it best to act as though she didn’t understand, so she looked at him as though she was curious about what he was doing with her case.

The officer translated for her patiently. ‘He’s asking whose case this is. Is it yours, madame?’

In a polite voice, Lizzie replied it was .

The officer nodded to the soldier, who had already laid it on the ground between the seats and was tugging the zip. The officer exited the compartment and left her to the mercy of the soldiers.

This is what you were trained for. You are ready for situations like these, she reminded herself.

The older woman caught her eye and winked discreetly.

The soldier ripped open the case and rifled through the contents. Lizzie held her breath as she watched him. His fingers touched her clothing, and he held up a pair of silky French underwear and smirked. The other soldier laughed and joined in, pawing through her clothes. The second soldier’s hands found her novel, pulled it out of the case and read in a mock exaggerated French accent.

Lizzie sat there seething, but she knew she must not rise to the bait. She had to act like an ordinary young French woman with nothing to hide and who wasn’t trained to kill with her bare hands.

She coughed and looked at the soldier. ‘It’s my sister’s favourite novel. She’s been unwell and I’m taking it to her in Paris.’

The soldier leered like he was undressing her with his eyes, and for a second Lizzie thought she might be in real danger. Then the door opened, and the officer joined them again.

‘Come on, boys. You can see there’s nothing sinister here. No point upsetting the lady.’

One soldier looked chastened and the other who had been reading her copy of Le Comte de Monte Cristo , tossed it back into the case and shoved it towards her with his foot. They both turned to leave, but the officer called them to attention.

‘I said that is no way to treat a lady. Pick up her belongings and place the case back where you found it,’ he commanded.

The soldier who had read her book, flushed pink and looked humiliated. The other bent to follow the officer’s instructions and within two minutes, the case was back on the shelf, and the two turned to the officer and saluted Heil Hitler.

The train was quiet again, and the officer looked over at Lizzie. ‘I can only apologise for that ungentlemanly behaviour. I hope you have not been too inconvenienced.’

Lizzie smiled graciously and assured him she hadn’t. She didn’t want to encourage him so didn’t risk any further conversation, and turned her head to look out the window, her heart slowly resuming its steady beat.