Shadows In Paris (Seagrove & Raven #2)

Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

B ack on the road, Lizzie cycled as fast as she could, mindful of the frosty surface and the worn tyres. Her body ached even more from her nighttime tumble, and she had borrowed a pair of Hannah’s gloves to protect her bruised hand. The trees were a dull brown and bare apart from remnants of snowfall on their naked branches. The scene was one of bleak winter and Lizzie was grateful for the warm boots and thick coat she’d taken from Hannah’s cupboard. They were almost the same size, which was lucky, or keeping warm would have been more difficult. Dropping in with just a parachute and a small case was all very well in summer, but she lacked enough clothing to see her through these bitter temperatures.

Lizzie dismounted her bicycle and left it propped against a wall close to the address, where she hoped to spot Philippe. Hannah had told her he worked in an office there, but she didn’t know more than that. It was a long shot, because she had relied on Francois to update him. Now Francois was out of the picture, she must try to reach Philippe directly.

It was too cold to sit outside and wait for him to emerge from the building at lunchtime. She was counting on him doing so, or she would have to wait all day until he finished work in the late afternoon or early evening. Lizzie scoured the area, looking for a nondescript café or restaurant that wasn’t popular with the Nazis. She couldn’t afford another run in with Karl, or someone like him, so she trod carefully along the snow-coated pavement, peering in windows to see where she might sit to shield from the cold and grab a bite to eat. Lizzie turned into a suitable café and ordered a bowl of chicken soup and a bread roll to quash her hunger pangs.

Looking around the café, she saw the usual smatterings of French and German customers. There was no one intimidating, and she settled down at her table overlooking the square where Philippe worked. She could see the main door and kept her eyes peeled so she wouldn’t miss him. He was her best chance at forming a strategy to locate and rescue Hannah if needed. She had a list of unfamiliar Liberty Network names, but Philippe had worked closely with the network leader, so she was hopeful he would rise to the challenge.

A half hour went by, and she finished her thin soup, made from hot water and chicken flavouring, with no visible pieces of chicken. That would have been too much to hope for.

Lizzie’s clothes were falling away from her trim figure as she lost more weight each week. Even during the height of the Blitz, she ate regular meals. They lacked a variety of ingredients in wartime London, but the rations in Paris were meagre beyond belief. The Germans took the best produce for themselves, and the locals had to make do with whatever they could scrabble together. Lizzie thought longingly of her mother and Violet’s tasty inventive meals waiting for her when she came home after a long day at Baker Street.

She was dreaming of mashed potato with a knob of Jersey butter when she caught sight of a man who resembled Philippe, exiting the building and turning onto the street in front of her. Lizzie had already settled her bill, so she scrambled to her feet, shot out of the café and hurried along behind the man, almost slipping.

Was it Philippe?

She’d only seen him at night, wearing dark clothes and presumably trying not to look like his daytime persona. He hurried, and she had to rush to keep up with him. After a few minutes, she entered a small park, anxious not to lose sight of the man. She turned a corner, and a firm hand caught her wrist and pulled her off the path and towards the wall into the shadows.

‘It’s you!’ Philippe said.

‘Get off. You are hurting me!’ Lizzie exclaimed, wrenching her wrist from his steely grip. ‘Who did you think it was?’

Philippe lowered his arm, and he retrieved a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Lizzie. She hadn’t smoked recently, but she accepted the cigarette as it was a good cover for loitering in the snowy park at lunchtime.

‘Thank you,’ she said, taking a drag and resisting a cough. She still hadn’t got the hang of smoking and doubted she ever would.

‘I didn’t expect to see you when I’m at work. Why were you following me?’ Philippe asked, casting his eyes around furtively.

Lizzie examined him from head to toe and took in his expensive tailored suit and polished leather shoes. He didn’t look remotely like the saboteur she knew from their nighttime operations. ‘You’re so smart. I barely recognised you,’ she said, her eyes widening. ‘I assumed you had some kind of manual job. ’

‘First rule of espionage,’ he said, dropping his voice lower and puffing on his cigarette. ‘Assume nothing.’

‘My mistake,’ Lizzie said, berating herself again for being such an amateur. It had not occurred to her that a member of the Liberty Network, who blew up Nazi supply trains by night, could be a high-profile administrator of some sort by day.

‘We’d better make it quick. I don’t know who might be watching me,’ he said. ‘What do you need?’

‘I think they’ve got Angel. She disappeared yesterday. Never returned from her job at German High Command.’

Philippe raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s where she’s working? My God, she moves in treacherous circles. I thought I was skating on thin ice.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes, she’s been doing an incredible job, but after they got Francois, we’ve been worried he would talk, and they’d arrest us.’

‘Have you any news of Francois?’ he asked, turning his body slightly away from her as if he was surveying the park, whilst he spoke out of the side of his mouth in-between puffs.

‘No, no news. Angel hoped to glean something at work, but I don’t know if she did or not. As I said, she’s disappeared.’

‘Are you certain?’ he asked, checking his watch. ‘I have something to deliver and must go soon. Angel is not known for her predictable behaviour. She may have gone on a mission during the night.’

‘I don’t believe that is the case. We had arranged a time to meet after she finished work, and she didn’t show up. Then she didn’t come home either. It’s not like her. She knew we might be under surveillance, and we were working closely together to salvage the situation and decide what to do. ’

‘I see,’ Philippe said, frowning and stubbing out his cigarette.

Lizzie leaned closer to him. ‘My gut says she’s still in the Reich building. We need to break her out before they break her.’

Philippe squinted as he stared into the distance. ‘I wish she’d mentioned she was working there. As it happens, one of my informants works there on the cleaning team.’

Lizzie’s pulse raced as she studied him. ‘That sounds promising. What do you suggest?’

They quickly formulated a plan, and Philippe left the park by one gate, and Lizzie by another. She approached the back of the former hotel that now housed German High Command, following Philippe’s instructions to the letter. She wanted to get her bearings for later. He was familiar with the building because he frequently liaised with the administrative department, and he had even met Hannah’s boss. On one of his early visits, he recognised a cleaner from his youth and recruited her into his network.

Lizzie walked around the city to pass the time, noting useful details of Parisian logistics to pass to the SOE, as instructed. A few hours later, she returned to the street near German High Command and perched on a bench, pretending to be engrossed in a copy of the new Pariser Zeitung , a German newspaper. Hannah had told her it was published for the sole purpose of showcasing how Paris was thriving under German occupation. Hannah said she gnashed her teeth when she scoured it for clues of Nazi plans, which made Lizzie howl with laughter.

Dear Hannah. Where was she?

Still clutching the unpopular newspaper, she stood and walked briskly towards a woman who fitted the description Phillipe had given her. She reached the woman before she neared the back entrance of German High Command and stopped her with a greeting. She caught the woman’s attention and said, ‘The weather is fine today, is it not?’

The woman was dressed in overalls and had her hair swept up in a scarf, and looked exactly how Lizzie would expect a cleaner to look.

The cleaner was startled but replied, ‘Indeed, it is a good day.’ She stared at Lizzie expectantly.

‘Do you have a few minutes to talk? Our good friend, Philippe, sent me.’ Lizzie knew Philippe must be a cover name, but the woman recognised it immediately and fell into step with her as they turned into a side road. Lizzie produced a pack of cigarettes and offered one to the cleaner. Situations like this were exactly why she’d learnt to smoke. ‘Celine, correct?’

The woman nodded but refused a cigarette. ‘I don’t smoke.’

Lizzie lit her second cigarette of the day and coughed as the acrid smoke filled her mouth and she avoided inhaling.

Celine looked amused. ‘I don’t think you do either.’

‘I need a pass to get into the offices where Major General Hans is based. Do you know him?’ she asked, her voice lowering as she dipped her head and took another puff of noxious fumes.

‘Yes,’ Celine replied. ‘I clean his offices every day.’

‘And do you know his secretary, Collette?’

‘I do,’ she said. ‘The kind blonde woman.’

‘When did you last see her, do you recall?’ Lizzie probed.

‘Hmm, I think it was yesterday,’ Celine said, frowning as she tried to remember.

‘And was there anything out of the ordinary that you noticed?’

‘There was actually. The major general was in his office first thing when I would usually clean it and he had a visitor, another officer. The visitor seemed nice—nicer than the major general, that’s for sure. I warned Collette her boss was in early.’

‘Here’s the thing, Celine,’ Lizzie said. ‘I need your help to get me into those offices so I can see what happened to Collette. She didn’t come home last night, and Philippe and I think the major general may have her.’

Celine looked worried. ‘But I only have passes for the team. They are personalised.’

‘Is there someone on the team who resembles me a little?’ Lizzie asked.

They talked for a few more minutes and agreed on a course of action. Celine gave Lizzie an address, which she memorised before they parted, and the cleaner ran up the steps and into the service entrance.

Excitement rushed through Lizzie. It was game on.