The Paris Architect: A Novel

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The Germans had surprised Juliette Trenet; she’d been napping when they’d pulled up to the house. Disoriented, Juliette had had a hard time remembering where her bag was, but she’d found it under the huge butcher block table in the center of the kitchen. She had just managed to pull the drain pan and grate in place when they’d broken down the locked front door with what sounded like a battering ram. Even with the metal pan full of water above her head, she could still hear the soldiers filling up the house, smashing things left and right, ripping into the walls and ceilings looking for her. She was amazed that all this effort was on account of her. Maybe they were looking for someone else. The Germans came down into the kitchen and flipped over the huge table; it shook the earth when it hit the stone floor, making Juliette shake with fright. Hearing the sound of boots pounding on the stone floor just centimeters away from her was unbearable; she wanted to scream out and had to jam her fist in her mouth. The recess under the drain was wide enough with a few centimeters to spare on either side of her arms, which hugged her body. But it was only a meter and a half deep so Juliette had to crouch on a pillow. Her fear became so great that she closed her eyes and grasped her legs, curling up in a fetal position, her body trembling uncontrollably.

It was the shock of all this happening to her so suddenly that was so wrenching. She’d been enjoying her stay in the comfortable house; it had almost been like a continuous weekend holiday, a million times better than living in an empty lions’ den. She couldn’t believe her luck in finding such a place. Now she was about to die. The noise and commotion didn’t let up, and the soldiers kept stepping right over the drain. Juliette began to unravel. She started to weep. With herculean effort, she had to fight the powerful urge to stand straight up and ram her head against the underside of the drain pan, making it fly up in the air so she’d rise suddenly above the floor, surprising the hell out of the soldiers. Juliette would yell, “Here I am, you Nazi shits. Kill me and get it over with.”