The Paris Architect: A Novel

On top of the main beams was overlaid a series of smaller ones at right angles on which thick plank flooring was attached with pegging. These beams were about thirty centimeters deep, which told Lucien a person could lie down on his back within them. The plank flooring could be removed and hinged to create a trap door of sorts. To prevent a person from falling through the plaster ceiling between the main beams, some board reinforcing would have to be installed. During a search, though, Gestapo boots would be running on top of the guests just a couple of centimeters from their faces. As he’d realized at the rue de Galilée, the cleverest design wouldn’t work if Manet’s guests panicked and cried out. This seemed too risky.

He discovered a window seat in an oriel window on the second floor at the rear of the house that was deep enough and wide enough to work as a hiding place. As he walked through the house, considering more options, the excitement was building up within him again. He found himself enjoying the challenge of outwitting the Germans, realizing it was a more powerful lure than the fifteen thousand francs. He could see crazed Germans tearing through the house in a hopeless effort to find their quarry. But all the time, the Jews would be right under their noses. Then finally, a Gestapo officer would give the order to leave, saying the Jews weren’t there. Thinking about this had the effect of a handful of amphetamines, and Lucien quickened his pace through the rooms, forcing poor Manet to struggle to keep up with him.

“Why not the back of a closet?” asked Manet as they entered the master bedroom.

“That’s the first place they’d look,” said Lucien impatiently.

He stopped and saw how tired Manet was. Lucien wasn’t ready to make his final decision and needed to continue looking.

“Please, monsieur. Go downstairs and wait for me. Let me help you.”

“I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

Lucien held Manet’s elbow as they mounted a short flight of steps that led to a small study. As he put his foot on the first step, it slipped and Lucien fell forward, bashing his knee into the steps.

“Goddamn it!” he cried, clutching his knee in pain.

Manet stooped to help him up.

“Let me be, I’m all right,” said Lucien.

Manet sat on the steps to rest.

“Why did they put the steps here?” asked Manet.

“It’s just to give the floor a level change and provide more headroom for the library that’s right below us.”

“I see. It’s to separate the study from the bedroom here.”

“Yes, just four steps,” said Lucien. “It’s a nice detail. I would’ve done the same thing.”

As he massaged his kneecap, he gazed at the steps.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Lucien hobbled downstairs, leaving Manet sitting there with a puzzled look.

Two minutes later, he came back quite excited, with only a trace of a limp.

“It’ll work. It’ll work!” He was exultant. “They can hide under these stairs.”

“How would they get under there?”

“Simple. I’ll hinge the steps at the top. They’ll lift them open, slip in, and drop them back down. There’ll be a latch on the inside so no one could lift it up. I’ll keep the carpet runner in place, and it’ll hide the joint where it opens up.” Both ends of the steps ran into walls so there were no sides; they seemed to melt into the interior of the bedroom. The Germans would probably never notice them. He knew from the fine workmanship on the rue Galilée job that Manet’s people could make the stair hinges undetectable. The existing steps would be carefully dismantled then reassembled onto a wooden frame with hinges along its top. The same runner that matched the carpet would cover the steps. Lucien was exultant over his design, brimming with pride as if he’d just won the Prix de Rome. Delighted with his own ingenuity, he experienced the same sense of exhilaration that had swept over him at the rue Galilée.

“That’s brilliant, my boy. But what would they lie on?”

“On a thin mattress. And there’s just enough room for two people to lie side by side.”

“I knew you’d do it,” said Manet, clapping Lucien on his back. “I’ll need a drawing as quickly as possible.”

“Of course, monsieur, right away.”

“My guests will be quite pleased to hear the news. They’ll—”

“Stop. I don’t want to know a damn thing.”

“Yes, Monsieur Bernard, I apologize. It’s the excitement of the moment.”

“And one more thing.”

“Yes, monsieur?”

“This is absolutely the last job I’m doing.”

“Absolutely,” replied Manet.





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