Schiller tucked his cap under his arm. “Honestly, the German Military Command doesn’t know which side the Americans in Paris are on.”
“I don’t know about the rest of my countrymen, but I’m on the side of making money.”
Schiller laughed. “Good. Then we shall remain friends.”
After the colonel collected the personnel files from Miss Thibodeaux, Paul returned to his office.
He sank into his chair, his heart thumping. German officials and French police would swarm the factory, and Paul had no control over what they would find.
Weak sunlight shone through the overcast onto the gardens of the American Hospital as Paul walked with Bentley.
He’d been tempted to skip the appointment and stand guard at the factory as if his presence could protect those under his care. Instead he’d decided that keeping the appointment would make him look unworried.
A nurse in a white cap and dress pushed an elderly woman in a wheelchair. Bentley greeted them, and Paul tipped his hat.
Bentley clasped his hands behind his back. “The procedures for delivering your packages are changing.”
“All right.” Paul gazed at the stately hospital building of red brick and white stone.
“They’ll arrive as before, unannounced in the morning. But I’ll no longer communicate with you unless something needs to be said in person.”
Paul brushed his toe over a pebble on the walk. “How will I find out how to deliver the packages?”
“You’ll use what we call a letter box, a location where we pass messages. Twice weekly you’ll visit and pick up your messages. You’ll read them at home, then burn them,” Bentley said in a low voice. He pulled an envelope from the pocket of his lab coat. “This has two pieces of paper inside. One lists the codes used in the messages, plus code phrases you’ll use to pick up the messages. Read it here, memorize it, then burn it in my office.”
“All right.” Paul slid his finger under the envelope’s seal.
“The second is a list of books. In my office you’ll transcribe it into your own handwriting. Take the copy and burn the original.”
Paul looked up. “Books?”
Two nurses approached, chatting and laughing.
Bentley made small talk about the cloudy weather until the ladies passed. “Your messages will be tucked inside books. You’ll ask the bookseller for each title in the sequence on your list. When you reach the end, you’ll find a new list inside that book.”
“Bookseller?” He could only picture one, but he couldn’t picture her involved in work like this. “The letter box—is it a bookstall on the quai d’Orsay?”
Bentley gazed around, the breeze ruffling his white-blond hair. “It’s Green Leaf Books.”
“Green—what? No. I—I know the owner.”
“That’s why they chose this letter box. Since you’re a regular customer, it won’t require a change in routine that might draw attention.”
“No.” Paul shook his head, not caring if he no longer looked casual. “I refuse to drawanyattention to that store, to Lucie.”
Bentley stopped and faced him. “Lucie is the one you’ll work with. Only Lucie. Never her assistant.”
Glowering, Paul shoved the envelope at his friend’s chest. “I refuse to get her involved in this. It’s too dangerous.”
“Paul.” Bentley crossed his arms. “Think about it.”
Hewasthinking about it. He was imagining that skinny German officer watching while Paul said the code phrase and Lucie...
No...
The only way she could know the proper response...
Paul’s breath froze. Lucie was already involved.
