Page 46 of Tides of Resistance
Lizzie regretted not taking the cover of a married woman, but when they talked it through in London, it seemed simpler not to have to pretend she had left a husband behind. And it was no guarantee it would fend off an ardent high-ranking suitor, anyway. It was one rule for the Nazis, and another for everyone else.
‘I am,’ she said.
‘Then what’s the problem?’
Lizzie swallowed as panic engulfed her. She must calm herself and talk sense.
‘It’s just that my being seen with you socially is frowned upon. People talk, you know.’ Her words petered out as she threw herself on his mercy and into the role of a distressed young French woman living in occupied France.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘How uncouth of me not to think of it. I quite understand. Join me for lunch at my officer’s club just a few minutes’ walk from here. It has wonderful views of the sea, and entrance is by special invitation only.’
Heinrich was keen to please her, she realised.
He paused and asked if she had a coat. When she said she did, he summoned the soldier and sent him in search of the red coat.
This was getting too much to bear. What if he checked her coat and found the knife? Thank God she had hidden the spare radio crystals at the house.
The soldier entered with her coat, and Heinrich held it out for her like a perfect gentleman as she slipped into it. Lizzie surrendered to the inevitable. She had run out of feasible excuses as the soldier opened the door and the SS officer gestured for her to walk through first, and he followed closely behind.
She felt his breath on her neck.
Lizzie caught the German command he gave the soldier, but she pretended not to. They exited the mansion, and within one minute a car rolled up and whisked them away.
‘This way it is a certainty that no one will see you, and your reputation will not be compromised, mademoiselle. We will be discreet.’
Lizzie tried to smile equally charmingly, but she was sure he must sense her fear. She told herself it was understandable because any French woman would be uneasy in similar circumstances. It would be stranger if she were blasé about the unexpected turn of events and his insisting on taking her to a private German club.
Within a few minutes, the car turned sharply, and they came to a stop in front of a magnificent hotel. The driver hurried to open the door, and they both stepped out.
Heinrich’s eyes lit up as he gazed at her and offered her his arm. ‘Welcome to the Grand Hôtel des Thermes.’
CHAPTER 27
Heinrich hadn’t taken a woman to his private club in St. Malo before, but this young French woman was special. He couldn’t yet put his finger on why, but he would. That was one reason he had been moved to invite her to join him for lunch. Heinrich prided himself on being an expert reader of character, and he could see this girl was unique. She’d caught his attention in the bookshop, but when he returned for another visit, hoping to see her, she wasn’t there, and his intense disappointment had surprised him.
The blonde girl, who ran the shop for her parents, had answered his questions and showed him books that complied with the Nazi desired reading list. He had scanned the shop for signs of banned books and had been satisfied the business was being run in accordance with the new rules. His Aryanisation report had been filed, and he was now free to focus fully on overseeing Hitler’s new directive and the construction of theAtlantikwall.
It was time to celebrate his successful completion of the important project and the commencement of another, so he was in a particularly expansive mood. As he entered the opulent dining room with Lizzie, he caught the envious glances fromothers who he imagined would kill to have such a fine woman by their side. He stood taller and held himself straighter, feeling like a giant with her on his arm.
They were seated at his permanently reserved table by the window, which commanded, just as he had promised, the most glorious sea views and an impressive vista of the majestic walled city.
‘It is beautiful, is it not, Rose?’ he said, gazing out over the vast expanse of choppy green-blue waves.
Lizzie said the view was breathtaking, and they were lucky to be in such a beautiful city.
‘You must miss Paris. I admit I’m a lover of Paris, and at first, I thought I would miss it dearly when I was posted here.’
‘And don’t you?’ Lizzie asked, smoothly side-stepping his question.
‘Not as much as I thought. I rather like the peace, and we have these views from the mansion, so even though it’s rather provincial here, the beauty makes up for the loss of city culture.’
Lizzie was reminded of a conversation with another high-ranking officer on a previous mission. It was the most dangerous part of her job, but also the most effective way to breach German security and extract intelligence. She ran through the details of her cover story in her mind, ready for any questions he might throw at her.
Paris wasn’t a problem because she had spent time there on missions and knew the city well. She told herself to stay calm and the lunch would pass in due course, and then she wouldn’t need to see him again unless he showed up during the work with Uncle Charles.
‘In what part of Paris do you live?’
At that point a waiter appeared, and Heinrich was distracted from his questioning and ordered a long list of dishes without looking at the menu or consulting Lizzie. The waiter scrambled to note them down and rushed off to place the order and search for the wine.
