The Paris Architect: A Novel

Manet stooped down to take a closer look.

“We’ll hide him in here. It’s big enough for him to fit in. He can pull up the entire grating, get in, then put it back in place. A shallow metal pan will be connected to the underside of the grating, and we’ll fill it with water so it’ll look completely natural.”

The old feeling of excitement returned, which surprised Lucien. He thought it had been driven out of him by the Serraults’ death. The ingenuity of this idea started him on another high. He felt good about himself again and was smiling from ear to ear.

“That’s brilliant, but what about the pipe down there?”

“We’ll have to disconnect it. The drain is only used if the kitchen floor floods, so we don’t need it.” Lucien now began to think of the inhabitants of the spaces as real, breathing human beings and considered their comfort. Before they were just cargo. Instead of putting the imaginary person in to try out the space, he inserted himself to gauge its comfort. The drain was wide enough to fit an adult, but because of its depth, he would have to stoop or sit at the bottom.

“Have your men dig down deep to give him a little more room under the pan. Put some wood planks on the floor and a cushion.”

“What about a tunnel out into the garden? As a backup,” asked Manet.

“That’s a lot of work, and the sides and top of it have to be supported to prevent a cave-in. It has to extend way out in the garden so he can get out undetected.” Lucien knew Manet wanted a contingency plan after the fireplace mishap. It was a good idea.

“I can get it done in time.”

Lucien stood up and stared at the drain, thinking of every possible way it could fail. After a few minutes, he grinned at Manet. “Let’s do it.”

Manet patted him on the back “I’m glad you’re still on our side. With men like you in the fight, we’re sure to win.”

“Win? I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

“The Germans seemed invincible, but their luck has turned,” said Manet with a smile. “The British stopped them at El Alamein in July, and the Allies will probably invade North Africa soon. Rommel and his troops will be driven out because they have no petrol for their tanks. They can be the best soldiers in the world, but it won’t matter if they don’t have fuel.”

“From your lips to God’s ears. Isn’t that what the Jews say?”

***

As the two men went out the front door, Alain crouched lower behind the hedge inside the stone wall that formed the perimeter of the yard. He had been able to creep up to the first-floor windows but hadn’t been able to overhear anything. He’d seen them go into the basement and stay there for a long time. It had been too risky to peek into the windows, so he stayed where he was and waited until they came out. After shaking hands, both men got into their cars and left. Alain came out from behind the hedge and went to the rear of the house, where the basement level led to the yard. He peered through the windows and surveyed the kitchen very carefully, but nothing unusual caught his eye. But considering the time they’d spent there, he guessed the kitchen had been the focus of their attention.

It was all still a puzzle to Alain—the mysterious fireplace detail, now the trip to this out-of-the-way cottage. He was angry with himself for not being able to piece things together. He needed something more to make sense of it all. When he got back to his car, a dark green Peugeot that his cousin had lent him, Alain sat on the hood and smoked a cigarette, mulling over every detail he’d seen.





34





“At least he doesn’t look Jewish,” muttered Lucien.

Father Jacques chuckled and got up from his chair. “No, he doesn’t, and that makes our task a bit easier, but still, we always have to be careful. Every day children are betrayed to the Gestapo.”