Page 66

“What can you tell us about the U-boat pens?” Louis asks the group.

The dockworker pulls out a folded sheet of paper. “I’ve made sketches. They’re rough, but accurate. The main dry dock, the one the British bombed, is being reconstructed. It will be operational in three months, perhaps sooner. They’re also expanding the submarine pens. Adding capacity for additional U-boats.”

Louis studies the sketch. It’s crude but detailed. Measurements. Structural notes. Exactly what London needs. “May I keep this?”

“Memorize it, then destroy it. We can’t risk it being discovered.”

Louis nods, begins committing it to memory.

The dockworker continues. “The garrison is being expanded. Two thousand additional troops arrived last week. They’re constructing new barracks on the east side of the port.”

“Defensive positions?” René asks.

The fisherman answers. “Antiaircraft batteries every five hundred meters. Machine-gun nests overlooking the harbor. They’re terrified of another attack.”

“Which tells us they believe another attack is likely. The Germans don’t waste resources on defenses unless they have intelligence suggesting they’re necessary,” Sister Bernadette adds.

For two hours, they share information. Troop numbers. Supply routes. Weak points in the defenses. The baker provides information on food deliveries, where supplies come from, how often, which routes they use. The teacher describes the forced labor system, which French workers are trustworthy, which are collaborators.

Louis takes mental notes, asking questions, clarifying details. René does the same. Between them, they’re gathering a comprehensive picture of Saint-Nazaire’s defenses. Exactly what London needs.

“We need to see the port ourselves,” Louis says. “Make our own observations.”

“Dangerous,” the dockworker warns. “Security is very tight. If you’re caught sketching, or taking photographs, you’ll be immediately arrested, no question.”

“We have cover stories. I’m assessing civilian structures. The doctor is visiting the hospital. We have legitimate reasons to move through the city.”

Sister Bernadette smiles. “And I will accompany you. Who would suspect an old nun and two elderly gentlemen? We’re invisible. The Germans barely see us.”

“Sister, you’re putting yourself at tremendous risk,” René says.

“My dear doctor, I’ve been at tremendous risk since the occupation began. I’m a Catholic nun hiding Resistance fighters, sheltering escaped prisoners, and passing intelligence to London. One more act of defiance won’t make much difference.”

In Paris, Cat knocks on the apartment door at seven o’clock. Andrée answers, wearing the same blue dress she wore to hear Charles Trenet. It feels even looser than it did that night.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“You said that last time.”

“It was true last time. It’s true now.”

Tina appears behind Andrée. “Take her out. Make her forget her worries for a few hours. She’s been impossible since Louis left.”

“Maman!”

“It’s true, ma chérie. You’ve been pacing, distracted, unable to settle. Hardly reassuring for Josie. Go. Listen to music. Dance if they let you. Be young. Your father will be home soon.”

“I’ll have her back before curfew,” Cat promises.

“Of course. Take your time. We will be fine.”

They walk through Paris, arm in arm. The city is beautiful in the fading light, despite the occupation. Despite everything.

“Where are we going?” Andrée asks.

“Back to Le Bal Blomet. But tonight, they’re featuring a jazz quartet. American. The real thing. Or as close to it as we can get in occupied Paris.”

“But haven’t the Germans banned it?”