“I'm not sorry. Are you?”
She shook her head. “I thought of Armand yesterday … and what it must be like for him in Paris … and yet, somehow, I knew that what we were doing wouldn't change anything for him. I'll still be here for him when the war is over.” Nick knew it too, and he didn't resent it. It was something about her that he had always accepted … almost always. … He also knew that Europe was having a terrible winter, but he assumed that she knew it too. And there was no point talking about that. There was nothing she could do for Armand, and he knew how much she worried.
They drove slowly back by the coast road again, and got home at eight o'clock, after stopping for a quick dinner just before they reached San Francisco. She hadn't called home all weekend and she hoped the girls were all right, and she noticed that Nick hadn't called Johnny either. It was as though just for those three days they belonged to each other in another world, and no one else and no other world had ever existed. They talked about the children in the last half hour of the trip and Nick sighed.
“I know he'll be all right. But I worry so damn much about him.” And then he turned to Liane. “I want to ask you something … something special. …” Her heart raced, she knew suddenly it would be important.
“Sure. What?”
“If something happens to me … when I'm gone … will you promise me that you'll go see him?”
For a moment Liane was shocked into silence. “Do you suppose Hillary would let me?”
“She never knew about us. There's no reason why she wouldn't. And she's remarried now.” He sighed again. “If I could, I'd leave him with you, then I'd know he'd be in good hands forever.” Liane nodded slowly.
“Yes, I'll go to see him. I'll stay in touch with him over the years.” She smiled gently. “Like a guardian angel.” But then she touched Nick's hand. “But nothing's going to happen to you, Nick.”
“You never know.” He looked at her in the darkness as they pulled up in front of her uncle's house. “I meant what I asked you.”
“And I meant what I said. If that happens, I'll go to see him.” But it was something she couldn't bear to think about.
They got out of the car, and he put her bag in the front hall. There was no one around. The girls were already in bed and she hoped that they wouldn't see him, but he hadn't wanted her to take a cab from his hotel so he had brought her home. She turned to him then just outside the door and they kissed for a long time.
“I'll call you in the morning.”
“I love you, Nick.”
“I love you, Liane.” He kissed her again and then he left, and she went upstairs to her bedroom.
And Armand's responsibilities these days were even more extensive than before. The Germans had finally come to trust him. He spent many hours with their Propaganda Abteilung, in order to help impress on the French what a blessing had befallen them in the guise of the Germans. And he had frequent meetings with Staff Colonel Speidel, and General Barkhausen to discuss what they referred to as “War Booty Services.” It was here that Armand was secretly able to wreak havoc and sidetrack a lot of the treasures earmarked for Berlin. They simply disappeared and the Resistance was blamed, and no one seemed more irate than Armand. And as yet, no one suspected. And he also had frequent meetings with Dr. Michel, of the German Ministry of State Economy, to discuss the current state of the French economy, the controlling of prices, chemical industries, paper manufacture, labor problems, credit, insurance, coal, electric power, and assorted other minor areas.
Most of the big hotels had been taken over by the German High Command. General von Stutnitz, the Military Commander of Gross-Paris, was at the Crillon, Von Speidel and the others at the Majestic. The Verwaltungsstab were conveniently located near Armand's home in the Palais-Bourbon, and Oberkriegsverwaltungsrat Kruger, in charge of the city's budget, was at the Hotel de Ville. And General von Briesen, commander of the city of Paris itself, was at the Hotel Meurice, although eventually General Schaumburg took his place, and remained at the Meurice because he found it so enchanting.
And throughout the city posters in French issued terrifying warnings regarding information passed, acts of sabotage, violence, strikes, incitement to riot, or even the hoarding of articles for daily use, which were all punishable “with the utmost severity,” by a War Tribunal. And inevitably there were frequent violations, mostly by members of the Resistance, who, the Germans immediately informed the public, were “communist students” and who were shot publicly to teach everyone a lesson. Public executions in Paris were all most commonplace by 1942, and the atmosphere in the city was subdued and depressing. Only in the hidden Resistance meetings around Occupied France was the atmosphere one of excitement and tension. But everywhere else the cities and the towns and the countrysides seemed blanketed in silent oppression. And not only were the Germans out to get them, but the elements appeared to be too. All that winter, people had been dying like flies from the cold and the shortages of food. As Armand looked around him he saw a dying nation. And the Germans had long ceased pretending that the “unoccupied South” would go untouched. They had moved in there too, and now all of France was swallowed up. “But not for long,” De Gaulle still promised on his broadcasts from the BBC in London. And the most amazing man of all was a man called Moulin, who was almost single-handedly responsible for spurring on the Resistance. Without anyone understanding how he managed, he made constant trips to London to the organization of Resistance fighters waiting there and then would manage to infiltrate back into France again, to give everyone hope and new spirit.
Armand had only dared to meet with him once or twice. For him it was much too risky, and most of the time he dealt with him indirectly, particularly after the famous Edict of July 15 of the year before, when the Germans cracked down on art treasures all over France, demanding that any item valued at more than one hundred thousand francs be reported at once by their custodians or owners. It was these records that Armand was so busy destroying and misplacing in the winter of 1941 and the early months of 1942, and he knew that single-handedly he was already responsible for salvaging millions of dollars worth of treasures for France, in spite of the Germans. But more important than that, he was attempting to save lives, and that was becoming more and more dangerous for him. And for the last few weeks he had been sick from the desolate cold that attacked Paris. But he said nothing of it in the letter that Liane received the day after she got back from Carmel. All she could glean from it was that his work was going well. Yet she heard something else in his letter. Something she had never heard before. A kind of despair that almost reached desperation. She sensed through the things he didn't say that France was not faring well at the hands of the Germans, worse than anyone knew. And she stood at the window for a long time, looking out at the Golden Gate Bridge, after she had read the letter.