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The leader drops into Louis’s chair, facing the family. “Nice place you have here. Pity it’s not going to look so nice once we’ve finished. You could save it by simply telling us where we will find the evidence I know is here.”

Tina glares at him. “We have nothing to say to you.”

“As you wish. Now, we understand you are expecting company some time today. A little gathering of your network. Am I right?”

Louis’s stomach drops. They know about the Thursday meetings. Someone has told them. Who? Who betrayed them?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Play it your way.”

One by one, the Militia come back into the living room, reporting that they have found nothing of consequence. Their faces show frustration and anger at coming up empty-handed.

The leader takes a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. Examines it and then looks at Andrée with an expression that makes her skin crawl.

“Mlle Andrée Levallois. You’re a piano teacher who gives lessons both here and at the local girls’ school, is that right?”

Andrée doesn’t respond. Her silence is answer enough.

“I’ll take that as confirmation. Now, these private piano lessons”—he looks around the room, finds the piano—“you use your students who come here as cover for your traitorous activities. The people who come here on Thursday afternoons . . . they’re not all parents of your students, are they?”

Involuntarily Andrée and her parents squeeze hands. How does this traitor know this? Who told him? The questions scream in their heads.

“Well, what we will do is enjoy each other’s company and see who knocks on the door. I’m in no rush.”

Panic rises in Andrée’s throat. The network: Agent, Doctor René, Cat, Dancer. All of them walking into a trap.

“They’re children. Just children. They’re innocent,” Andrée blurts.

“We don’t care about the children. It’s the adults who will come that we are interested in.”

What this traitor does not know is that there will be only one child knocking on the door today: Josie. As it’s so close to the end of the school year, and times are so hard, Andrée has ended lessons for the summer for the rest of her students. Only Josie will come home.

The realization hits Andrée like a physical blow. Josie. She’ll come home and be caught.

The leader abruptly stands and yanks Andrée to her feet, shoving her in the direction of two militiamen. “Take her to headquarters. Maybe these two will be more helpful not knowing what is happening to her there.”

Louis jumps to his feet. “Leave her! Take me! Leave my daughter alone!”

He is brutally pushed back onto the sofa. His hip connects with the arm. Pain shoots through him.

“It’s all right, Papa. I’ll be fine. You stay with Maman.”

“Take her away.”

“I love you,” Andrée calls out as she is hustled from the room, from the apartment, from her parents. Her voice doesn’t break. She won’t give them that.

“We love you too, ma chère. We’ll see you soon,” Tina calls out, her voice catching on the lie. She doesn’t know if they’ll see each other again. None of them does.

Downstairs, Maurice watches as Andrée is marched through the foyer. As she passes, their eyes meet. Andrée throws him a small smile and a nod of appreciation for all he has done for them.

The remaining five Militia make themselves comfortable. One sprawls in Louis’s usual chair. Another examines Tina’s books, discarding them carelessly. They light cigarettes, making themselves at home in someone else’s life.

Tina and Louis watch the clock on the wall. Each tick is agony.

Twelve noon.

One o’clock.