“Certainly not,” Georges replied. “I was merely curious.”
But Ponty had one more nail to hammer home. “All our rooms are manned at all times. Even my own office, now sitting empty, is guarded. We don’t let up our vigilance, ever!”
I was glad I was with Georges, with his cosmopolitan air. He smiled suavely, including us all into his fraternity. “And we are most grateful for that vigilance, sir. The whole country is grateful.”
Ponty took obvious satisfaction in the compliment. His eyes darted quickly to me and I nodded, hoping my unspoken affirmation would lessen the sense of rivalry.
Georges continued. “The whole thing is just so amazing to me. I’ve come here so often to deliver, and I’ve seen your men loading for large deliveries. The logistics are just too awesome to comprehend. It seems as though every man in France is out there helping load munitions for the front.”
Ponty’s eyes twinkled. He was obviously somewhat taken with Georges. Often in my career and in my life, I’d noticed that once a person has tapped one emotion in another, a door may be opened to other emotions. Georges had angered Ponty, and the director’s response had compromised his natural reserve and professional manner. Once Georges had cooled his anger, the door was open to friendship. We were all, suddenly, members of the same club-men of similar natures caught up in the most serious of endeavors, unable to trust or love or find release from the unbearable tensions of the times.
Ponty smiled warmly now. “I’ll let you both in on something, then, since you’ve been so astute. When we have heavy shipments, everyone helps, even myself. For fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes, we are all pack mules. Except, of course, for the guards at the explosives rooms. They never, ever leave their posts.”
Georges returned Ponty’s smile. “Your secret is safe with us, eh, Jules?”
“To our graves,” I responded.
“And now,” Ponty said, opening the double doors, “let me show you…”
Our tour continued for the next hour or so. None of the other rooms, it turned out, was as closely guarded as the explosives room, though security everywhere was tight.
The factory made everything from bullets and bombs to rifles and cannons. The next cavernous room was dedicated to working out the rough edges of a motorized armored car with mounted cannons, which Ponty thought would become a powerful new battlefield weapon. The preliminary sketches and models we saw were impressive, but it seemed to me that they still had a long way to go. Ponty hoped to complete a working model within six months, though, and Georges, after careful consideration, pronounced himself in agreement with that verdict. There were many other research rooms which Ponty could not show us. He apologized for this, and we both assured him we understood completely and had very much enjoyed the look around. Finally Maurice-he was “Maurice” by then-showed us to the door and bade us adieu.
“We don’t have visitors very often,” he said, “and, as you said, we don’t want them, but it’s been a pleasure showing you both around.” Maurice turned to me. “Jules, I’m glad that you decided to satisfy your curiosity.” With that, we shook hands and he disappeared back into the building.
Walking back to the car, Georges and I were thoughtful. It was now dusk. The factories would be closing within the hour, and I wanted to get back home.
“Life is sure full of surprises,” Georges remarked, elbowing me slightly.
I said nothing but thought instead of the questions I would have for Tania.
“Very impressive place,” Georges said, diplomatically changing the subject. “I wouldn’t be too worried about a breach of security if I were Maurice. That anteroom scared me to death, to say nothing of the boilers.”
“Yes,” I said. “Unless the Germans take St. Etienne-in which case we’ll have lost the war anyway-I’d say that factory is safe. Awfully modern building, isn’t it?”
“I loved it. I could have stayed all day.”
Something was bothering me, so I thought I’d better say it. “Yes, I noticed how acute your interest was. I thought you’d be bored in there, though I was glad you accompanied me.”
“Bored? Not at all. Fascinated, truly fascinated. Perhaps I’ve never mentioned it, Jules, but my initial love was architecture. I studied it for years in school, and only my father’s passionate belief that all art was somewhat effete-backed by his promise to withhold any financial aid to myself-persuaded me to enter the dynamic and exciting world of business.” He seemed genuinely bitter, the sarcasm heavy.
“I didn’t mean…” I began, sorry that I had touched a nerve.
“No. That’s all right. People, in the end, do what they truly want to do, I suppose.”
We talked on for a few more minutes before I dropped him off at a hotel. As usual, in spite of the large delivery today, he had calls to make for the remainder of the week, the weekend notwithstanding.
“Unfortunately, the need for my products keeps increasing. It may be good for business, but I find it difficult to rejoice in the fact.”
“Will you be able to make it by next Wednesday?” I asked.
“I assume so. I’ll leave a message if I’m delayed.”
“Fine. Until then.”
The drive home was long and uneventful. I usually don’t like to drive at night, and by the time I had reached the road to Valence, it was completely dark. My headlights flushed a few animals along the way, but otherwise I saw nothing and heard only the sound of the engine, which drowned out my soft humming of the “Marseillaise.”
7
After dinner-a simple coq au vin and a bottle of beaujolais-Tania and I sat in the kitchen with brandy. The living room still made us nervous, and Fritz said he didn’t mind the intrusion. So we sat on wooden chairs across the table from one another. It was a quiet night. The large stone fireplace crackled from time to time, and Fritz, cleaning up, moved easily about. When he’d finished, he turned down the lamps and left us alone. The room was a montage of pale yellow light and black shadows. Something, probably a mouse, scampered across the floor.
Tania was wearing a light blouse with a tan wraparound skirt that came to a few inches above her ankles. She was beautiful enough to get away with that kind of dress, though it would properly be considered fairly risqué. Her long hair fell across her face, and looking across at her I found it very hard to believe that she was beginning her fifth decade. I got up, came around the table, and kissed her.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I went to see your friend Ponty today.”
Her shoulders stiffened a little. “What were you doing at the arms factory?”
“Georges had to deliver there, and I decided it would be a nice break to put off my appointment today and see this place you’ve talked about so much. It is a very impressive sight, though I wish they could do something about the smoke.”
“I know,” she said. “Isn’t the smell terrible?”
“Horrible. But I suppose when one works with sulfur, that’s impossible to avoid.”
We heard Fritz moving about behind us in his room. He usually did exercises and then read a bit before going to bed.
“How did you find Maurice?” she asked.
I described our tour, including the little episode at the door to the explosives room. Tania smiled and said that sounded just like Maurice. We sipped at our brandy, and the silence came back to surround us. There would never be a better time.
“Tania,” I began, then stopped, terrified. To me she was the most attractive woman in the world, and if I pressed on now I ran the risk of losing her. But I really had no choice-if I couldn’t ask, I had already lost her. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ponty’s proposal?”
Her shoulders sagged slightly as she put her snifter down. “Oh,” she said, “he told you about that?”
“It quite hurt me,” I said truthfully.