Escape From Paris (41 page)

Linda landed hard. Her feet skidded from beneath her on the icy roof. She slammed onto her back. She lay in a twisted heap, heart thudding, waiting for shouts and shots.

The bells rang on the clear icy air.

Carefully, Linda managed to get up on her hands and knees.

Lights flickered on the roof above her.

She crawled until she was hidden behind the rusty iron work of a ventilator shaft.

Flashlights danced above her. One light pointed down into the alleyway.

“
Nein
,” a man called.

In a moment, the lights were gone.

Linda hesitated. Should she stay on the roof, wait until morning? But then she would have to go out into the streets in daylight and they were looking for her. She was conspicuous with her blond hair and light blue coat.

Now was the time.

On the narrow roof stairs, she paused to brush tar and dirt from her coat and to straighten her hair. Before she could lose her resolve, she began to hurry down the stairs. On the second floor, a large family group was heading downstairs. Linda kept close behind them. On the street outside, she kept to the outside of the sidewalk then turned to her left away from the Gestapo car that still sat beside her building.

The streets echoed with footsteps. So many were spilling out of darkened buildings on their way to midnight Mass. She walked fast. Six blocks, ten, fifteen. She began to hope.

She was almost to the Church when she began to wonder whether the Gestapo was looking for Father Laurent, too. Her steps slowed. At the end of the block near the Church, she searched for a telltale Gestapo car.

There were only church goers on foot. No German cars marred the street.

Linda was swept up in the stream of people. The Church was jammed. She slipped into a crowded pew and knelt. The service began with the processional. The boys choir came first, their lovely high voices raised in a song of exultation, then the adult choir, the altar boys and finally, the clergy, in their glorious white vestments.

When she saw Father Laurent, Linda closed her eyes and rested her head on her clasped hands. He was here. She was going to be safe. Oh Jonathan, I am coming.

She understood little of the Latin mass, but the glory and exultation of the massed voices promised something beyond this night in Occupied Paris.

When the Mass ended, she followed the crowd up the aisle. Father Laurent saw her and reached out a warm hand. She bent close and whispered, “The Gestapo came.” He understood at once and turned her toward the door leading down to the basement. “My office,” he murmured.

It was cold in the office. Linda paced up and down, trying to keep warm and trying to ignore the fear that pulled at her.

The door opened so quietly she was caught by surprise, then alarm. Who was this plump funnily shaped man?

“Linda! Oh, Linda.”

“Eleanor. Eleanor. Eleanor.”

The sisters embraced, both crying and talking at once. But, when Eleanor heard Linda out, she too was worried. “Father Laurent will have to escape with us. If they came for you, they must know all about the escape line.”

“Why doesn't he come?” Linda asked nervously. “Every second that we wait could bring the Gestapo closer. Oh Eleanor, I can't bear it if we are captured now.”

Eleanor smiled, trying to reassure Linda, but she too listened for sounds in the corridor. The Gestapo would as soon invade a Church as anywhere.

“Eleanor, let's leave now, not wait for Father Laurent.”

“Linda,” she said gently, “we don't have anywhere to go. We must wait. And hope.”

Linda bit her lip. This was stupid, stupid, stupid..

They both turned strained faces when the door opened.

Father Laurent hurried inside. “My daughters, how wonderful it is to see you both.”

“Father, we must hurry,” Linda urged frantically. “The Gestapo may be here any minute. Have you made plans?”

Father Laurent took her cold hands in his. “Don't be frightened, Linda. You are safe now.”

“How can you be sure? I tell you, they knew my name. They came for me.”

He was nodding. “I have talked to a friend in the Surete. They were indeed coming for you. A woman named Yvette Bizien saw you at the train station and followed you to the Latin Quarter apartment. She knew that the Gestapo had arrested Eleanor and was looking for you. She turned you in for the reward.”

“That means the rest of the escape line is safe, doesn't it, Father?” Eleanor asked excitedly.

“Yes.” His smile was triumphant.

Linda looked at Eleanor and the priest in a kind of wonder because the safety of the escape line meant so much to them. Nothing, to them, mattered as much as the route to freedom for trapped English soldiers. She wished she too could be as brave as they. Her shoulders sagged. She had tried, tried her best but she would never be brave.

Eleanor was smiling at her. “Did Linda tell you, Father, how she escaped?”

Eleanor described Linda's night, the coming of the car, the race up to the roof, the slipping sliding journey to the parapet and the final desperate leap.

Father Laurent looked at her with admiration. “You never cease to amaze me, mademoiselle. You are so young and so brave.”

Linda looked at him and tears glistened in her eyes. She wasn't brave. Not at all. And she was very near the end of her endurance. She knew, suddenly, that she could not leave the Church. She could not walk down the streets, try to take the train, not with the hideous gray-green of German uniforms everywhere about.

She simply could not do it.

Then she heard and understood what Father Laurent was saying . . . 

“The message came last night. Sister Angelique heard it on the BBC. I cannot think there could be a better moment in time for me to tell you than on this Christmas morning,” he was saying softly. “She wrote down the message.” He cleared his throat. “This is what the BBC announcer read in the list of personal messages, ‘Robert and Franz are halfway to Pasadena and Jonathan is safe at home.'”

CAROLYN HART
is the author of forty-nine mysteries. Hart's fiftieth mystery novel,
Dead, White and Blue
, will be published in May 2013. Her books have won Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity awards. She has twice appeared at the National Book Festival in Washington, DC. She is thrilled that some of her long-ago books are having a new life. She lives in Oklahoma City with her husband, Phil.