Chapter 16 #2
There was a tangible fear in the air as locals hurried by, clutching their bags of scant supplies.
Perhaps it would be easier than she had imagined walking around the city unnoticed.
Everyone seemed so afraid to make eye contact it would be unlikely they would notice a black-haired woman, who on her previous visits was a chestnut-haired youth.
The Nazis had stolen the soul of the close-knit Breton coastal town with the strong maritime spirit, and a wave of sadness washed over Lizzie.
Coming back to St. Malo was personal for her, so of course it would be more emotional than her previous missions.
If Jack had been in London to prepare her, like he usually was, she was certain he would have warned her of the emotional impact.
Jack. What was he doing now?
‘Here we are,’ Aunt Giselle announced, and she pointed to a pretty little bookshop with a faded burgundy awning. Livres Beamont was painted across the hanging valance in cream lettering.
The name was also etched in gold on the glass, and Lizzie noticed the residue of a faint C in the middle of the two words, where Cohen must have been erased. Faded French classics were strategically positioned in the window display, and Lizzie scanned the covers as they approached the door.
Then she stopped. A copy of Mein Kampf was prominently displayed, and the sight of it made her feel physically sick. What was until recently a Jewish-owned business was now forced to promote Hitler’s book about the elimination of the Jews.
Lizzie followed her aunt into the bookshop and saw Sophie immediately. As they approached the counter, her cousin held her finger to her lips discreetly and signalled what seemed an urgent warning to be cautious.
Looking around the shop, Lizzie couldn’t see any customers.
‘Here we are, my love,’ Aunt Giselle said in a loud, confident voice. ‘I brought Rose with me. You remember she is my dear friend Madame Rousseau’s daughter from Paris and has come to recuperate from ill health in our wonderful sea air.’
Lizzie blinked. She had clearly underestimated Aunt Giselle, who had weaved a scenario more compelling than the basic cover story she had shared with her.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not catching,’ Lizzie said, in her best Parisian French, careful to enunciate the sharper vowels.
The last thing she needed was for a local to hear her speaking in the more melodic style of French spoken by the Malouins , influenced by their Gallo heritage.
Lizzie had practiced morning and night before the mission, and now she snapped into her performance naturally.
Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Welcome to St. Malo and to our humble bookshop. It is good to have you with us.’
A discreet cough interrupted their discussion. Sophie switched her attention to the imposing golden-haired officer emerging from the shadows of the bookshelves and walking to the counter, holding a book in one large hand.
‘ Monsieur l'Officier ,’ Sophie said, her tone one of nervous politeness.
Lizzie gulped. His long black leather coat, the SS eagle on his cap and the runes with the double lightning bolts on his collar left her in no doubt of his affiliation.
‘Madame, or is it mademoiselle? Let me be the first of my officers to welcome you to this beautiful city,’ the SS officer said, dazzling Lizzie with a charming smile as if being greeted by an SS officer were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Lizzie replied with graceful deference. ‘Thank you, Monsieur l'Officier. How kind.’ When he continued looking at her, waiting for her answer, she added, ‘mademoiselle.’
‘Very well, mademoiselle, it is. I trust the wonders of our fine coastal air shall restore you to full health.’
The SS officer turned and paid for the book in francs, watching Sophie fumble under the counter for the cash drawer.
With a wave of the hand, he said, ‘Keep the change.’
Then he turned his attention back to Lizzie, and she spotted the gun in his holster.
‘May I assure you, mademoiselle, we are doing all we can to improve St. Malo. Like Paris, it is under the protection of the Greater German Reich and, as such, under my administration, so you may rest easy you will be in excellent hands.’
Lizzie was astounded at his gall, but composed herself swiftly. ‘Thank you, Monsieur l'Officier. That puts my mind at rest. Good day to you.’
She had come by sea, and so had no gun concealed in her clothing.
The reality hit her for the first time since she had arrived and made her feel even more vulnerable in the face of the enemy.
She reminded herself that she had the skills to eliminate someone with her bare hands.
In Nazi-occupied territory, it was arguably safer not to carry a gun in case she was arrested, as it would reveal her as a spy.
To be thrown into such a deadly situation on her first outing must be pure coincidence, but her mind raced for ways to throw the Nazi off the scent in case he suspected her.
The SS officer stared at her for a time, his grey-blue eyes betraying an interest with which she was familiar. Lizzie didn’t dare breathe.
Then he broke eye contact and strode across the room, his black leather coat swinging around his powerful frame as he walked. In the open doorway he turned. ‘This is a wonderful little shop. I shall visit again soon to check you are in full compliance with the list of permitted literature.’
He smiled casually, as if he were making polite chitchat.
Sophie, Giselle and Lizzie stared after him as though they couldn’t believe what had just happened.
‘That was a lucky escape,’ Giselle said, sitting down heavily, releasing a shuddering breath, her face pure white.