The Paris Architect: A Novel

“It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you, Monsieur Bernard. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”


Whenever a German paid a Frenchman a compliment, one had to decide whether it was a backhanded compliment or whether he was being sincere. Lucien sensed Schlegal was being honest, but because he had a weakness for compliments, he could’ve been mistaken. Finally, Lucien relaxed a bit in his wooden chair; he had been scared stiff waiting twenty minutes for Schlegal to come in. In that time, Lucien couldn’t keep himself from looking constantly out the window to the flat at 12 rue des Saussaies—which, to his rotten luck, was just across from Schlegal’s window.

When Lucien got the telephone call from Schlegal, he almost fainted, he was that frightened. He would’ve jumped in the Citro?n and driven straight into the English Channel. But the Gestapo officer was effusive and cheerful, saying that he knew what great work the architect was doing for the armament division’s construction and engineering section. Lucien immediately thought that Herzog had told Schlegal about him, so he didn’t panic. Schlegal asked him to come in, and Lucien assumed it was about some design work. But then again, it could be a trap to lure him in and torture him until he revealed what he knew about Manet’s operation. His ego, though, convinced him that this meeting was all about his architectural talents, so he came. He knew he had to. After his encounter with the Resistance, Lucien had convinced himself he wasn’t a collaborator. But working for the Gestapo was something different. If he was forced to design for them, there could be some serious repercussions, like being garroted or shot in the head by the Resistance. They’d probably watched him go into Gestapo headquarters. Again, his first thought wasn’t about himself, but of what would happen to Pierre.

“Thank you, Colonel.” He couldn’t really repay the compliment by saying he’d heard good things about the Gestapo’s work; that would sound a bit insincere.

“You’ve done some marvelous buildings for the Reich. I’ve seen them. They’re a bit avant-garde for my taste, of course, but the high command in Paris is quite pleased with the results, and that’s what counts. Isn’t it?”

“The Reich has been satisfied with my work. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t give me more work, I suppose.”

“Exactly. You’re probably wondering why I asked you here today. It’s for a professional consultation on a very unusual architectural matter.”

The flow of compliments had eased his fear and anxiety, but now Lucien narrowed his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair. This was about his Jew work. Lucien knew that the very moment Schlegal asked him about the hiding places, the reaction on his face would give him away. He had to keep a blank expression no matter what. The Gestapo officer’s next question seemed years in coming.

“We’ve come across a hiding place. A very ingenious hiding place under a stair. And we’re trying to find out who in Paris could construct such a beautiful piece of woodworking. I guess that’s what you’d call it—woodworking?”

“Yes, that’s the correct term. Please continue.”

“It’s a hinged stair that someone can hide under.”

So Adele was fucking Schlegal. He could see why. He was extremely handsome and, most importantly, all-powerful. He could do or get everything she wanted. The stair was in Adele’s country house, in her bedroom to be exact, which was where she’d been sleeping with this Gestapo officer in addition to him. No doubt, Adele had told Schlegal that he might know something about the stair since he was an architect. If she were in the room right now, he would have strangled her in front of the Gestapo devil.

Lucien was scared, but he knew that the next few minutes could determine his fate, so his performance had to be convincing. He couldn’t panic.

“This is a brand-new stair?”

“No, they cleverly reused the old one.”

Lucien smiled. He enjoyed being complimented in this roundabout manner.