Maude gave her a don’t-be-so-stupid frown, then caught the eye of Christian. In a pantomime of comprehension she registered surprise, put her hand over her mouth in horror, then said unconvincingly, “Of course, you’re quite right, excuse me.”
Christian was not a suspicious man, however, and he smiled at Maude and said, “You’ve been asleep for two hours. We’re on the outskirts of Pans. But, as you can see, the train is not moving.”
Maude gave him the benefit of her most dazzling smile. “When do you think we will arrive?”
“There, Mademoiselle, you ask too much of me. I am merely human. Only God can tell the future.”
Maude laughed as if he had said something deliciously witty, and Flick relaxed.
Then Diana woke up and said loudly, in English, “Good God, my head hurts, what bloody time is it?”
A moment later she saw the gendannes and realized instantly what she had done-but it was too late.
“She spoke English!” said Christian.
Flick saw Ruby reach for her gun.
“You’re British!” he said to Diana. He looked at Maude. “You too!” As his gaze went around the compartment he realized the truth. “All of you!”
Flick reached across and grabbed Ruby’s wrist as her gun was halfway out of her raincoat pocket.
Christian saw the gesture, looked down at what Ruby had in her hand, and said, “And armed!” His astonishment would have been comical if they had not been in danger of their lives.
Diana said, “Oh, Christ, that’s torn it.”
The train jerked and moved forward.
Christian lowered his voice. “You’re all agents of the Allies!”
Flick waited on tenterhooks to see what he would do. If he drew his gun, Ruby would shoot him. Then they would all have to jump from the train. With luck, they might disappear into the slums beside the railway tracks before the Gestapo was alerted. The train picked up speed. She wondered whether they should jump now, before they were moving too fast.
Several frozen seconds passed. Then Christian smiled. “Good luck!” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Your secret is safe with us!”
They were sympathizers-thank God. Flick slumped with relief. “Thank you,” she said.
Christian said, “When will the invasion come?”
He was naive to think that someone who really knew such a secret would reveal it so casually, but to keep him motivated she said, “Any day now. Maybe Tuesday.”
“Truly? This is wonderful. Long live France!”
Flick said, “I’m so glad you are on our side.”
“I have always been against the Germans.” Christian puffed himself up a little. “In my job, I have been able to render some useful services to the Resistance, in a discreet way.” He tapped the side of his nose.
Flick did not believe him for a second. No doubt he was against the Germans: most French people were, after four years of scarce food, old clothes, and curfews. But if he really had worked with the Resistance he would not have told anyone-on the contrary, he would have been terrified of people finding out.
However, that did not matter. The important thing was that he could see which way the wind was blowing, and he was not going to turn Allied agents over to the Gestapo a few days before the invasion. There was too strong a chance he would end up being punished for it.
The train slowed down, and Flick saw that they were coming into the Gare d’Orsay station. She stood up. Christian kissed her hand and said with a tremor in his voice, “You are a brave woman. Good luck!”
She left the carriage first. As she stepped onto the platform, she saw a workman pasting up a poster. Something struck her as familiar. She looked more closely at the poster, and her heart stopped.
It was a picture of her.
She had never seen it before, and she had no recollection of ever having had her photograph taken in a swimsuit. The background was cloudy, as if it had been painted over, so there were no clues there. The poster gave her name, plus one of her old aliases, Fran‡oise Boule, and said she was a murderess.