Sandrine heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She had dozed on and off since she’d got back, running over the events of the night in her mind, but was too full of adrenalin to go to sleep properly. She hated the fact that Raoul hadn’t stayed, though she knew it was the right thing to make contact with Robert to see if Yvette had heard anything more. It felt as if they had pushed their luck far enough, and she wished he wasn’t out on the streets as the day was dawning.
‘Sandrine?’ he called.
A rainbow of scattered light from the landing window slipped into the room with him. Sandrine felt relief flood through her. He was back, safe. Now he would come to bed and lie beside her. Kiss her. And, for a moment, at least, there would be nothing else.
‘Sandrine, wake up.’
She heard the urgency in his voice and sat up, instantly wide awake.
‘Raoul? What is it?’
‘I think he’s already here,’ he said, the words tumbling out.
‘He? Who, Authié?’
‘At Gestapo headquarters with Schiffner. Yvette said there was a visitor from Toulouse.’
‘Toulouse? Raoul, slow down. Start again.’
Raoul forced himself to draw breath. ‘Yes.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Sorry. Yvette didn’t come in until four. She said a visitor arrived unexpectedly. At first it was difficult, but then there was a telephone call and the atmosphere changed. The visitor was talking about his girlfriend, Yvette said, but I think she misunderstood.’ He hesitated. ‘She heard him say the word “Sophie”.’
Sandrine froze. ‘They were talking about me?’
‘I think so. She also heard them talking about the Cité. She assumed it was to do with the dinner tonight, but again . . .’
Sandrine swung her legs out of bed and started to get dressed. Raoul watched her for a moment, then stood up too.
‘Is there any proof it was Authié?’ she asked, stepping into her slip and dress, her fingers hurrying with the buttons. ‘From what she said, I mean?’
‘No, but it’s logical to assume it was.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You didn’t notice anything after I left you here last night?’
‘No, I did the usual checks before coming in. Madame Fournier was in her position at the window, as always, but there was no one watching the house so far as I could see.’
‘You’ve not heard anything from Marianne and Suzanne? You don’t know if they arrived in Coustaussa all right?’
‘No, but I told them not to call.’
Sandrine laced her shoes, then they both went quickly out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
‘If you’re right – if Yvette has passed on what she heard accurately – are you saying you think Authié’s come back because of “Citadel”? That his presence is nothing to do with the Codex?’
‘I don’t know. There’s no reason to think anything’s changed on that front. Monsieur Baillard is . . . well, we don’t know where he is. We’ve both kept our ears to the ground and heard nothing about the Codex.’ He sighed. ‘In any case, I’m not sure it even matters. Either way, he’s searching for you. It makes no difference why. The end result is the same.’
‘How would he know I’m “Sophie”?’ she said. ‘We’re jumping to conclusions based on a conversation overheard by Yvette. She could have got the wrong end of things entirely.’
‘True.’
Sandrine stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her thoughts racing ahead of themselves. ‘There’s no reason to think Authié knows about Coustaussa,’ she said slowly. ‘No one’s ever come looking for me there.’
Raoul frowned. ‘Are you sure? It must have been common knowledge you used to go out of town for the summer. Madame Fournier must have known.’
‘Yes, but my father never liked Monsieur Fournier, or trusted him. He was always courteous, of course, but careful about what he said. Even before the war.’
They walked down the corridor to the kitchen.
‘How many people know the house is called citadelle?’ Raoul asked.
‘Not many, actually. The name was a joke of my father’s, a bit of fun. He put up the sign, made it himself during the last summer we were there all together.’ She broke off, remembering her father’s face smiling with pride at his handiwork. ‘It only lasted for about two weeks. Papa wasn’t awfully practical and the sign wasn’t strong. It came down in the first storm.’
‘So it’s not officially registered under that name?’
Sandrine shook her head. ‘No, and what’s more, it’s actually registered in my mother’s maiden name. Saint-Loup.’ She saw the look of surprise on Raoul’s face. ‘It’s a huge family, cousins all over the place. It’s a very commonplace name.’
‘The first time I met her, Eloise Breillac told me you were distantly related. I’d forgotten until now.’
Sandrine smiled. ‘It was my mother’s family house, not his. Papa always meant to get the deeds changed into his name after she died, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.’ She paused. ‘Authié would have to dig deep into the records to find the connection. At least, that’s what I hope.’
Raoul was frowning. ‘But everyone knows Marieta is there, and her connection with you and Marianne. It only takes a neighbour here, or in Coustaussa, to say something in front of the wrong person. It’s hardly a secret.’
‘I know that,’ Sandrine said quietly. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about it.’
‘If Authié’s determined to find you, he will.’
‘I know that too.’ She looked at him, his eyes wild with worry and lack of sleep. ‘Let’s think it through. Not rush into anything.’
Sandrine filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil. She put a spoonful of tea into the china pot, then took two cups from the dresser and set them ready on the side with the remains of the honey.
‘I don’t think we can risk going through with the attack on Authié,’ Raoul said. ‘Even if it wasn’t him with Schiffner last night, he’ll arrive today. From what Yvette said, they’ve found the device. If that is the case, Authié won’t go anywhere near the Cité tonight. They’ll be waiting for us.’
Sandrine poured the hot water on to the leaves.
‘They’ll flood the Cité with men,’ he continued. ‘Milice, Gestapo, the Wehrmacht troops garrisoned there as back-up.’
She stirred the pot, then got the strainer and poured the tea into the cups. A half-spoonful of honey each for flavour. Then she joined him at the table.
‘I agree,’ she said.
Raoul stared. ‘You do?’
‘I agree that they might very well have found the device, and plan to simply lie in wait for us to return to detonate it.’ She took a deep breath, knowing that Raoul wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. ‘But I’ll still have to go back tonight.’
‘Why?’ he demanded.
‘It’s dangerous, Raoul. We can’t just leave the device there. Even if the Gestapo are watching the tower every minute of the day, who’s to say someone won’t find it – a child – and set it off by accident?’
Raoul threw his hands in the air. ‘You can’t seriously be considering going back to disable it? If I’m right and they have found it – and put guards in the tower itself – you’ll be caught.’
‘Innocent people could be killed,’ she said firmly. ‘We can’t leave it.’
‘If they’ve found it, you’ll never get into the Cité and out again without being seen. It’s impossible.’
‘Difficult, not impossible,’ she said.
‘Almost impossible then,’ he said sharply.
‘Look, they aren’t aware that we know they have – might have – discovered the bomb is there.’
‘You’ll be caught,’ he said again.
‘I don’t think so,’ Sandrine continued. ‘They will be expecting us to act at the moment Authié’s scheduled to arrive in the lices. Yes? When they see we’re not coming, they’ll either remove the device themselves or, more likely, put out that he will be there on another occasion, trying to encourage us to make a move the following day.’
‘Or, more likely,’ Raoul said, ‘they will simply sit it out. Wait for you for as long as it takes. Then arrest you,’ Raoul said.
Sandrine raised her hands, then let them drop. ‘I know it’s a risk, but I can’t see any other option.’
‘The logical option is to leave it. Hope it doesn’t get accidentally detonated. That’s the only sensible thing to do.’
‘I’m not prepared to do that,’ Sandrine said. ‘If we kill innocent people, then we’re just as bad. We sink to their level.’
Raoul paused. ‘OK, if you insist. I’ll go.’
Sandrine smiled. ‘You can’t possibly try to get into the Cité. You’ll be stopped straight away. They’re less suspicious of women.’
‘Not if they’re looking for “Sophie”,’ he said.
Sandrine didn’t answer. She knew he was right. For a moment, they both fell silent.
‘If you’re determined to go through with this,’ Raoul said eventually, ‘isn’t there someone who could go in your place? Authié will recognise you.’
Sandrine sighed. ‘We haven’t the time to find anyone and besides, I know the device, how it works. It’s got to be me.’
There was a knock at the back door. Sandrine glanced at the clock – it was just shy of six o’clock, very early for anyone to be calling. She stood up, immediately on her guard, as Raoul slipped behind the door to the cellar, out of sight. She heard the click as he released the safety catch on his revolver.
‘Who is it?’ Sandrine said.
‘Me,’ Lucie whispered through the wire mesh of the fly screen. ‘I’m on my own.’
Sandrine let out a long breath. Raoul stepped from his hiding place, putting his gun back in his pocket.
She put her hand to his cheek. ‘Before I let her in, are we agreed?’
‘I don’t like it.’
Sandrine nodded. ‘Neither do I,’ she said softly.
‘Authié has this address. He could be here at any moment.’
‘We’ll see the plan through tonight, then we’ll leave, I promise. Go to Coustaussa. There’s nothing more to worry about than there was before, it’s just going to take longer to get to Authié than we’d hoped.’
‘Sandrine,’ Lucie said, a little louder.
‘Ask Lucie to go with you,’ Raoul said suddenly. ‘You can’t go alone. Take her.’
Sandrine was about to say no, but then stopped. She could see the sense in his suggestion.
‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea.’
‘Authié won’t recognise her, she’s changed so much. And she’s not known to the Milice or the Gestapo, is she?’
‘No.’
‘Sandrine!’ Lucie repeated. ‘Let me in.’
‘But I won’t pressure her,’ Sandrine said, turning the key, ‘not if she doesn’t want to help. She’s got Jean-Jacques to think of.’
She opened the door. ‘You took your time,’ Lucie said.
There was a pause as she looked at Sandrine, then at Raoul. The colour slipped from her face.
‘What’s going on?’
‘We need your help,’ Sandrine said.
‘Are you sure?’ Sandrine said for the third time.
Lucie tapped the cigarette Raoul had given her on the side of the glass ashtray. She was pale and her eyes kept darting to and fro.
‘I’ve said so, haven’t I?’
‘I know, but I want you to be clear about what we’re asking of you. It will be dangerous.’
‘It’s dangerous, I understand. I get it.’
Sandrine exchanged a glance with Raoul, who shrugged.
‘No, I mean it, Lucie,’ Sandrine persisted. ‘This isn’t simply delivering a message or smuggling a little paper from one place to another.’
‘The consequences are the same, aren’t they?’ Lucie said. ‘I’d have been in trouble if we’d been stopped on Monday morning on our way to the Café des Deux Gares.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
Lucie shrugged. ‘Well then.’
Sandrine frowned. ‘But we’ve always agreed I’d say you didn’t know anything about it if we were stopped and searched.’
‘No one would have believed that for a moment,’ she said wryly. ‘You know as well as I do, I’d have been for it. Same as you, kid.’
Sandrine stared at her.
‘Sandrine,’ Raoul said gently, ‘if Lucie says she’s willing to help, then it’s her decision.’
Sandrine shook her head. She understood why Raoul wanted Lucie to go with her – it was the only thing he felt he could do to keep her safe – but it felt wrong. She was still not convinced Lucie was aware of what she was agreeing to.
‘Maybe it’s best if I go alone,’ she started to say.
‘No,’ Raoul said, his voice loud in the quiet of the early morning.
Lucie ground the stub out in the ashtray. ‘You want me to help create a diversion,’ she said.
‘Well, yes,’ Sandrine said carefully. ‘But if I’m caught, Lucie, and they realise you were helping me, then it will go badly for us both. Do you see?’
‘So it’s the same story,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ll say I didn’t know anything about it.’
‘They won’t believe you.’
‘I’ll persuade them,’ Lucie said firmly. ‘Look, I understand.’
‘What about Jean-Jacques?’
‘Tonsils,’ she said. ‘That’s what I came to tell you. I thought he was teething, but his temperature kept going up and up. Dr Giraud diagnosed it straight away.’
‘Well then, you can’t possibly leave him,’ Sandrine said in a rush. ‘In fact, shouldn’t you be with him now?’
‘Dr Giraud’s taken him into the Clinique du Bastion. He’s promised to operate as soon as he can, though it probably won’t be until tomorrow morning.’ The light faded from her face, revealing how worried she really was. ‘It’s too risky to smuggle me in too – and if Authié is back, I can’t risk my name being on any list – so, well, I had to leave him with Jeanne.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’ll go out of my mind if I have to sit around doing nothing.’
Now Sandrine was even more worried about Lucie’s involvement. The fact that she seemed to see this as a good way to keep her mind off her little boy in hospital proved absolutely that she didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.
‘Dr Giraud’s excellent,’ she said quickly. ‘J-J will be in safe hands. But, really, I think you should go home. Wait for news.’
‘I want to help,’ Lucie said firmly. ‘I can’t sit around worrying myself to a thread.’
Raoul stepped in. ‘Thank you,’ he said firmly. ‘I appreciate this. Sandrine does too.’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Sandrine said, but neither of them paid any attention.
‘What time will we leave to go to the Cité?’ Lucie said, turning to Sandrine. ‘You have a pass, you said? Will I need one too?’
Sandrine glanced up at the time, then gave in. Raoul was right. She had to have someone on lookout, and Lucie was willing to do it.
‘Yes, everyone’s been issued with an additional special pass for today,’ she said. She went to the kitchen table and got two cards from the drawer. ‘Suzanne made one for me and left the original too.’
Lucie stared at the blurred photograph. ‘It’s not a bad likeness. And if I do my hair in the same style, I think I can pass for . . .’ she peered at the name, ‘Marthe Perard.’
Raoul nodded. ‘Authié and Schiffner are supposed to tour the lices before dinner, which is scheduled for eight o’clock. Sandrine will need to be in place well before that.’
‘You’re not going through with it?’ Lucie asked. ‘Even if Authié does actually make an appearance?’
‘No,’ Sandrine answered, throwing a glance at Raoul. ‘No, in the circumstances, we decided it was too much of a risk. I’m just going to disable the device, so that nobody else gets injured, and get out.’ She paused. ‘There will be other opportunities with Authié.’
Lucie nodded, but didn’t ask anything more.
‘You won’t be able to come back here,’ Raoul said. ‘It’s likely—’
‘Possible,’ Sandrine interrupted.
‘Likely,’ Raoul reiterated, ‘Authié will come here as soon as he realises the mission’s been aborted. He has this address.’
Lucie blushed. And Sandrine realised that in the same way she still felt she should have done more to stop Max being taken, Lucie still felt guilty for talking to Leo Authié.
‘Oh, Lucie,’ she said in a rush, ‘it was such a long time ago. There’s nothing to make up for, not now.’
‘I know, kid,’ Lucie said. ‘But even so . . .’
‘It’s all forgotten.’
‘Forgotten, no.’ Lucie met her gaze. ‘Two years ago, you came with me to Le Vernet. Despite what I’d done, talking to Authié. It was stupid to go and I shouldn’t have let you take the risk. But I was an idiot and you came all the same.’ She caught her breath. ‘You did it for me. For Max, though you didn’t know him. And even before we knew Max wasn’t going to be coming back, you and Marianne took Liesl in too.’ She looked at Sandrine. ‘Do you see now, kid?’
For a moment, they just looked at one another.
‘Yes,’ Sandrine said. And for the first time since they had put the plan to Lucie, she thought it might be all right. She’d underestimated Lucie. Assumed she was walking into this without thinking, when in fact she knew precisely what she was doing. And why. ‘Yes, I see.’
‘Good,’ Lucie said briskly. ‘That’s settled then.’ She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, blew her nose, then nodded, to confirm the decision taken.
Sandrine glanced at Raoul and saw the relief in his face.
‘Happy now?’ she murmured, taking his hand.
He laughed. ‘Less unhappy.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think Authié will come here before tonight, but he might. You shouldn’t stay here.’
‘I agree.’
‘Where will you go? Can Robert Bonnet help?’
‘Home,’ he said quietly. He gave a long, weary sigh.
‘Do you mean the Quai Riquet?’ Sandrine said with surprise. She knew he felt bad about how infrequently he visited his mother, but he thought it kept her safer. ‘Has something happened? Has her neighbour been in touch with you?’
Raoul shook his head. ‘No. But when we leave tonight, we’re not likely to be back. Are we? Not now Authié’s here.’ He sighed. ‘I owe it to her to say goodbye.’
‘She didn’t know you last time, did she?’ Sandrine said quietly. ‘Are you sure it’s not better to leave her be?’
‘Other people have looked after her, when it should have been me,’ he said. ‘I’ve stayed away. For the right reasons, but I feel I owe it to her.’
‘Authié might have put the apartment under surveillance, have you considered that?’
‘I doubt it. I’ve barely been there in two years, anyone would say the same. There’s no reason for him to think I’d be there.’
Sandrine didn’t want him to go, though she accepted he had to spend the next twelve hours somewhere. But every time he went into the Bastide, she was terrified he’d be spotted and picked up. It hadn’t happened yet, but that didn’t mean anything. It only meant their luck had held.
‘I don’t think . . .’ she began, then stopped herself. ‘Be careful,’ she whispered.
‘Aren’t I always?’ He smiled. ‘Where shall we meet? You shouldn’t come back here either.’
‘No.’
Raoul rested his hand against her cheek. ‘What about chez Cazaintre?’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure the side gate’s open.’
Sandrine nodded. ‘All right.’
Lucie frowned. ‘Where’s that? Is it a bar? Would I have heard of it?’
Sandrine shook her head. ‘Cazaintre was the architect of the Jardin du Calvaire in the 1820s. It’s one of the places we use as a drop-off and collection point for Libertat.’
‘One of them?’
‘That’s right. “The Naiads” is the fountain in Place Carnot, “Monsieur Riquet’s bathing house” is the steps on the north side of the Canal du Midi and “Monsieur Courtejaire is asleep” means that the pick-up is Courtejaire’s grave in the cimetière Saint-Michael.’
Lucie smiled. ‘Smart.’
‘It’s worked so far,’ Sandrine said.
Raoul took her hand. ‘I’ll wait there until you come.’
She smiled, masking the way the nerves were already hammering in her chest.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. This time tomorrow, we’ll be in Coustaussa.’