Chapter 7
1142 Words
Jacques Dufort paced the floor of his Parisian study. He had just received Camille’s update from a member in his network. She had faced a difficult task, the Germans arriving in Antwerp on the same day that she did. Odds had been against her. But if anyone could do it, she could. But then her message came. He read it again.
ALL THAT GLITTERS. PACKAGE REMOVED. DID NOT REACH DESTINATION.
It was a cryptic message he had to decipher. It started with the prearranged passcode, so it was authentic. The diamonds had been removed from the Antwerp vault. But then something went drastically wrong. They either never got to the dock or, when they did, they couldn’t get to London. Or worse, the diamonds had been taken from them, maybe by the Germans, but they had escaped. The message could have different meanings. A clarification had been requested; no reply had been received. Camille must have been rushed, facing capture or worse, and couldn’t continue transmitting.
He tried to imagine what thwarted success. Was it the Germans? A problem with the boat? An unexpected intrusion? He didn’t know. He focused on what he did know, dissecting the message word by word. The diamonds had been stolen from the exchange—that was clear. Camille was safe—she had sent the message. But Roger hadn’t reached the port. Or if he did, he couldn’t get out of Antwerp. Jacques assumed Roger was with Camille. Maybe they were still in Antwerp. Or maybe they weren’t.
He had to develop contingencies, offer help when she sent her next message. If she couldn’t get to London, and her chances diminished with each day that passed, she would have to bring the diamonds to Paris. But with the Germans advancing across northern France, racing for the coast, she had little hope for success. She was likely trapped somewhere in Belgium. His thoughts were interrupted when Emilie came in with two glasses of merlot.
“I brought some wine,” she said, handing him a glass. “You seem so focused—the wrinkles in your brow tell a tale I may not want to hear. I thought a distraction would help.”
He smiled weakly. “Even wine won’t ease the pain.”
Her eyes widened. “What happened?”
He wouldn’t share what she didn’t need to know. It wasn’t fair to her. He focused on the war. “Holland fell, Belgium follows. Antwerp and Brussels surrendered; Tournai is next.”
She eyed him curiously. “Maybe there’s a diplomatic solution, an armistice.”
“I doubt it,” he muttered. “Hitler steals Europe one country at a time. Why would he not take France?”
She eyed him uneasily. “Should we leave Paris?” she asked. “Some flee south. Maddie, the woman next door, has already gone.”
“You have the store to manage,” he reminded her. “Your life will continue as it is, despite who controls the country.”
“But why would we stay if Paris is threatened?”
He leaned back in the chair. “I must remain, even if the Germans come. My duties demand it.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know why you would. Especially if you’re in danger.”
He laughed lightly. “I’m in danger every day.”
Her face firmed. She wasn’t amused. “You say you’re in danger, but I don’t know why.”
“I misspoke,” he said, not wanting to scare her. “No one in the transportation department is at risk.”
She frowned. “Is it time, perhaps, to end this charade?”
His eyes widened, not sure of how much she knew. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You won’t tell me what it is that you do. But I doubt it has much to do with transportation.”
“Why would you say that?”
She fixed her gaze on his. “You were in the military before I met you. And sometimes I think that you still are.”
“Would it make a difference if I was?”
“I know it shouldn’t concern me. But it does. I’m worried about you.”
He sipped his wine. She deserved an explanation—she was his wife. But he couldn’t reveal too much—for many reasons. “I am assigned to the transportation department, but I do very little work there, and only in regard to railroads. But I pretend to do much more.”
She eyed him curiously. “You have an office in the transportation building.”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “And sometimes I perform a needed function.” He paused, watching her expression. “But you’re right. I actually work for the military.”
She hesitated, her face marred by a hint of betrayal. “What do you do for the military, other than your duties with railroads.”
He didn’t want to reveal details. She couldn’t be trusted with them—nobody could. “I collect information; sometimes I do more. Nothing dangerous.”
“But you just said you’re in danger every day.”
“Haven’t you been suspicious of what I do?” he asked, ignoring her question.
She shrugged. “I find the meetings in your study curious. If they were visits with friends, you wouldn’t be so secretive. Maybe I haven’t wanted to admit that something wasn’t right. But you never offered any clues, so I know nothing.”
“No matter what happens, I will continue to play the part of a civil servant,” he said. “A role needed for a functioning government. But my primary responsibility is with the military.”
“Even if the Germans come?”
He shrugged. “A war isn’t always fought on the battlefield. A civil servant can win battles if he fights them correctly.”
She was quiet, perhaps not understanding. “I suspect the danger is more than we know. My customers talk. They say horrible things.”
“Citizens fuel fear with gossip and misinformation. But sometimes they know as much as the generals.”
She sighed. “Is the war lost?”
“The next week will show what the world will become. If the German advance is halted, the war will be much like the last.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“It will be a dark day for France.”
“Should we prepare for the worst?”
Jacques didn’t reply. His thoughts wandered to a mission that could change the course of the war. And if it failed, priceless diamonds would fall into the wrong hands. He didn’t have the luxury of running away. He had to find Camille.
And he had to do it quickly.
- Writer
