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Maurice is at the door immediately. Worry all over his face. “M. Levallois, are you all right? The Militia . . . I saw them taking Mlle Andrée away.”

“Shush. Yes, Tina and I are fine, and Andrée will be too. I need your help.”

“Anything.”

“Please, please, Maurice, do not let anyone come up to our apartment today. No one. None of our usual guests. Not Josie. Do you understand?”

“I understand. No one will get past me to come to your apartment. No one. I promise.”

“Thank you, Maurice. You have done so much for us. I must go.”

“I will pray for you, for your dear wife and daughter. And little Josie too,” the concierge says in a hushed voice to Louis’s back.

Back on the third floor, Louis sneaks into the kitchen as the leader of the Militia enters from the other side of the room.

“What’s taking you so long?” he directs at Tina. Seeing Louis with his hand on the door, not quite closed, he turns on him.

“Where do you think you’re going? Were you trying to escape? Is that a back way out of here?” He pushes Louis aside, ripping the door open to peer at the staircase leading down.

“What are you talking about, man? I’m in my slippers. Do you think I would try to escape in my slippers?” Louis says calmly.

“Lunch is ready. Help me take it into the living room. There’s plenty here for you and your friends,” Tina says.

Louis grabs the board with bread and cheese in one hand, the platter with the fried sausage and beautifully scrambled eggs in the other. Tina thrusts plates and cutlery at the Militia leader.

She catches the glance Louis throws at her. Maurice will stop them. The network will be safe.

Tina and Louis watch as the militiamen eat the contents of their home. Sausages, a surprise gift that were meant to give them the energy to survive. Eggs hoarded for a special treat. Cheese traded for precious ration coupons. All of it consumed by the men who came to destroy them.

Once they’ve finished eating and have washed the dishes, Tina and Louis return to the sofa and watch the clock on the wall.

Two o’clock chimes.

“I don’t suppose you are going to tell me what time your meeting is scheduled?” the leader asks.

“What meeting?” Louis responds.

Two thirty. If any of the network were going to arrive, they would be here by now. Maurice has done as he said. Tina and Louis relax, fractionally. Their friends are safe. But Josie . . .

Two forty-five. If Josie got past Maurice, and she’s so good at sneaking past him, making a game of it, she would be here by now. Unless of course she was delayed talking to Monique.

Two fifty-three. A gentle knock on the door.

Tina and Louis know it’s Josie. That’s her polite knock. The knock that says it’s just me; I’m home.

Terror floods through them. Absolute and paralyzing.

“Up. Up,” the leader orders them, his pistol now drawn. His colleagues are also on their feet, pistols aimed at them, faces eager.

“Take them into a bedroom,” their leader tells his men.

With pistols at their backs, Tina and Louis slowly walk toward Andrée’s bedroom, closest to the front door.

The soft knocking comes again. More insistent now. Josie wondering why no one’s answering.

The leader stands before the door, one hand on the handle, the other holding his pistol, aiming it at where the person on the other side will be when the door opens.

He pulls the front door open, staring at the young girl in front of him.