When she reached the top of the steps she saw Weber. A look of shock came over her face. She was disoriented by his unexpected presence, as if she had walked on stage and found herself in the wrong play. She stumbled, and the young agent caught her elbow and steadied her. She recovered her composure with characteristic speed and gave him a grateful smile. Well done, my girl, Dieter thought.
Then Weber stepped forward.
“No!” Dieter said involuntarily. No one heard him.
Weber took the agent by the arm and said something. Dieter’s heart sank as he realized Weber was making an arrest. Stephanie backed away from the little tableau, looking bewildered.
Dieter got up and walked quickly toward the group. He could only think that Weber had decided to grab the glory by capturing an agent. It was insane but possible.
Before Dieter got close, the agent shook off Weber’s hand and bolted.
Weber’s young companion in the check jacket reacted fast. He took two big strides after the agent, flung himself forward in a flying tackle, and threw his arms around the agent’s knees. The agent stumbled, but he was moving strongly, and the Gestapo man could not hold him. The agent recovered his balance, straightened up, and ran on, still clutching his suitcase.
The sudden running steps, and the grunts made by both men, sounded loud in the hushed cathedral, and everyone looked. The agent ran toward Dieter. Dieter saw what was going to happen and groaned. The second pair of Gestapo men stepped out of the north transept. The agent saw them and seemed to guess what they were, for he swerved left, but he was too late. One of the men stuck out a foot and tripped him. He fell headlong, his chunky body hitting the stone floor with a thwack. The suitcase went flying. Both Gestapo men jumped on him. Weber came running up, looking pleased.
“Shit,” Dieter said aloud, forgetting where he was. The mad fools were ruining everything.
Maybe he could still save the situation.
He reached into his jacket, drew his Walther P38, thumbed the safety catch, and pointed it at the Gestapo men who were holding the agent down. Speaking French, he yelled at the top of his voice, “Get off him now, or I shoot!”
Weber said, “Major, I-”
Dieter fired into the air. The report of the pistol crashed around the cathedral vaults, drowning Weber’s giveaway words. “Silence!” Dieter shouted in German. Weber looked scared and shut up.
Dieter poked the nose of the pistol hard into the face of one of the Gestapo men. Reverting to French, he screamed, “Off! Off! Get off him!”
With terrified faces the two men stood up and backed away.
Dieter looked at Stephanie. Calling her by Mademoiselle Lemas’s name, he shouted, “Jeanne! Go! Get away!” Stephanie began to run. She circled widely around the Gestapo men and dashed for the west door.
The agent was scrambling to his feet. “Go with her! Go with her!” Dieter shouted at him, pointing. The man grabbed his suitcase and ran, vaulting over the backs of the wooden choir stalls and haring down the middle of the nave.
Weber and his three associates looked bemused. “Lie facedown!” Dieter ordered them. As they obeyed, he backed away, still threatening them with the gun. Then he turned and ran after Stephanie and the agent.
As the other two fled through the doorway, Dieter stopped and spoke to Hans, who stood near the back of the church, looking stolid. “Talk to those damn fools,” Dieter said breathlessly. “Explain what we’re doing and make sure they don’t follow us.” He holstered the pistol and ran outside.
The engine of the Simca was turning over. Dieter pushed the agent into the cramped backseat and got into the front passenger seat. Stephanie stamped on the pedal and the little car shot out of the square like a champagne cork.
As they raced along the street, Dieter turned and looked through the back window. “No one following,” he said. “Slow down. We don’t want to get stopped by a gendarme.”
The agent said in French, “I’m Helicopter. What the hell happened in there?”