The Paris Architect: A Novel

“Yes, but it’s half a meter thick so there will be plenty of depth for two people to stand side by side once we remove the bricks to hollow out a space.”


Lucien could tell that Manet was unconvinced about the plan. He looked around. There was another possibility for a hiding place in the apartment, which would be much easier to construct. An interior wall was deep enough to hide two people behind the wainscot paneling. But for Lucien, it was not as clever as using the front of the fireplace. He wanted something especially tricky, even if it meant extra work. The more ingenious the solution, he realized, the greater the thrill. The Germans might look up the flue but never behind the firebox. Lucien began to think of himself as a kind of magician who could make people vanish into thin air.

“Yes, this would work,” he said. “The fake wall would be faced with a lightweight brick veneer placed on a steel frame that could easily be moved back and forth in one piece.”

To set Manet’s mind at ease, Lucien added, “Please don’t worry, monsieur. I’ll design it so they’ll be completely safe.”

“Well, if you say so. But it seems so difficult. But if that’s what you want, then you shall have it. I trust your judgment.”

“I’ll deliver a drawing to you the day after tomorrow. Our same arrangement stands.”

“Of course, Lucien. No one will ever know. People are most grateful for your help even if they don’t know you exist. You have already saved two lives.”

Lucien had resumed thinking about the Citro?n and Adele but snapped back to attention when he heard this comment.

“I saved someone’s life?”

“Yes, indeed. Remember your steps in the hunting lodge in Le Chesnay? The ones that lifted up?”

“Someone actually used them?” Up until now, this had all seemed like a game to him with him designing a pretend hideout that no one would really use.

“The Gestapo tore the house apart but never found the two Jews. They walked over them and even sat on them but never found them.”

“And what happened to…”

“They are now in a safe location, rest assured. But they sent word to me that the hiding place saved them and how ingenious I was to think of it. I wished I could’ve told them who’d really thought of it.”

“I’m…glad it worked out.”

Lucien walked over to the fireplace and picked up a small jade statuette of a cat and examined it closely. He tried to imagine the two Jews under the stairs, listening to the Germans walking on top of them and searching for them. How terrified they must have been. Then a smile came over his face as he realized that he’d really outwitted the Gestapo with his architectural ingenuity. It had actually worked. They’d been mere centimeters away from their prey, but they hadn’t found them. He was quite proud of himself. Once, in an egotistical moment, Lucien had actually hoped the Gestapo would be tipped off so they could rip apart a place to test the cleverness of his hiding space. His mind was starting to race with ideas on how to detail the false wall when Manet yanked him out of his reverie.

“Lucien. Your Citro?n is awaiting you.”

As he drove off, Lucien was irritated that he wasn’t enjoying the ride in his beautiful new car. No, he wasn’t enjoying it because he began thinking of the two people he’d saved. That wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. This was about fitting an object of certain dimensions into an enclosed space with adequate clearances, rather like placing an object inside a box to be mailed. All for twenty-seven thousand francs and the opportunity to design a huge factory—to show the world that he could really do a great design. And now this wonderful car. And the unexpected pleasure of fooling the Germans.

He almost wished Manet had said nothing about the actual people involved. He didn’t want to think of them.





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