The Paris Architect: A Novel

“This couldn’t have happened without your support,” said Lucien guardedly. He didn’t want to get too mushy about it. When Herzog had been promoted to colonel, his former superior officer, the idiotic Colonel Lieber, had been transferred back to Berlin, leaving Herzog as the sole power overseeing the construction program. With Speer’s complete confidence, he got the buildings up and running fast, cranking out materiel for the German war effort way ahead of Berlin’s schedule. Now there was even talk of a promotion to general.

Herzog began walking toward the excavation for the foundation, and Lucien followed. Not only did he respect Herzog’s design sense, but the German also had a sharp eye for construction, knowing when a corner was being cut and not hesitating to order a subcontractor to tear work out and start again. Of course, they never protested. If one refused, a soldier would be called on to drag the poor devil away, never to be seen again. This happened on one occasion, reminding Lucien that Herzog was still a German officer loyal to the Fuehrer and intent on Germany’s total victory. But it was more of a personal mission for Herzog. He seemed determined to leave his mark on France for the Reich. After he was gone, the factories would still stand, evidence that he’d been there. Architects thought the same way. Their work would outlast them. A library would serve generations long after the architect was gone. With Lieber out of the way, Lucien had complete creative freedom. It wasn’t just a canard that an architect needed a good client to produce great art. Herzog was the ideal client.

“The bands of glass will really accentuate the horizontality, plus let a lot of natural light in,” said Herzog with a smile.

“The workers will be able to see better and produce more,” added Lucien, and both men laughed.

“Exactly. Those bands of black brick will definitely help productivity. I don’t know how but they do break down the scale of the front wall,” said Herzog with a wink.

They looked down into the excavations to examine the footings.

“I ordered them to be extra wide to distribute the loads to the ground,” said Herzog. “Sooner or later the buildings will be under Allied attack and will have to be able to take a pounding from bombers. The factory has to survive and be put back on line to keep producing. That’s Speer’s order.”

Herzog never talked about it, but Lucien saw that the Germans were increasingly uneasy about the progress of the war. Everything had been going their way until this fall, when the Allies had invaded North Africa and were slowly gaining the upper hand. Everyone expected an invasion from England. In anticipation, Herzog examined every detail of the building, especially the structural drawings. He had ordered more steel reinforcement in columns and arches, the thickness of steel window frames was increased, and concrete roof slabs were thickened. The design suggestions he made strengthened the overall building but were so aesthetically pleasing that Lucien could never object. Lucien envied his skills and tried to learn from him. Although he’d never finished his training at the Bauhaus, Herzog was a phenomenal designer, blessed with great structural intuition.

Satisfied with the progress of his building, Lucien bid good-bye to Herzog and walked back to his car, which was parked by the construction shed. Labrune was standing by the corner filling his pipe. Lucien waved at the old man.

“Great work, Labrune; keep it up.”

“Stinking traitor,” said Labrune, loud enough for Lucien to hear.

His ears burning, Lucien kept walking. The excitement of seeing his creation come to life suddenly vanished.





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