Page 45 of The Librarian Spy

“Do you see her face?” Marcel nodded to Elaine with a hard expression. “If you tell France Max is dead, our people will be stricken too, and you will lose support, not gain more.”

Elaine immediately schooled her features to mask her emotions, a lesson she would not forget. Even among friends.

“It is news,” Marcel agreed solemnly. “But our job is to gather new recruits, not turn them away by informing them that General de Gaulle’s most trusted man was tortured to death by Hauptsturmführer Barbie.” He turned his attention to Elaine and spoke with a gentler tone. “Max was not the only man maintaining the networks in Lyon. We will endure.”

“I hear he did not talk despite the brutal torture he endured.” Jean’s voice was soft with an awed reverence.

“Still, it is not a story that needs to be published,” Marcel said with finality and walked away with a stack of fresh newsprint in his arms.

“Tortured?” Elaine asked through numb lips.

Jean nodded, brooding aloud. “It is true bravery and strength alone that keeps one from talking.”

Like Joseph.

Could she be so strong? No matter how hard she concentrated, it was impossible to weigh her own fortitude against such an unknown scale.

“None of us knows how we would react,” Jean said, as though he too were lost in the same macabre thought. “I think we all hope to be so valiant and pray we never have to find out.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets, his long form bent over, as if walking into a hearty wind, and returned to the small office they used for creating false identity cards.

“Ma chérie,” Nicole’s voice called out. She sauntered in with Josette at her side, their ever-present shopping baskets looped in the crooks of their elbows. Rather than go to Marcel, Nicole marched over to Elaine and hugged her. “How we’ve missed you.”

Elaine squeezed Nicole’s slim frame in return, noting the prominent outline of the other woman’s ribs and vertebrae as she did so. No doubt Elaine felt the same in their embrace.

It was a reminder of the pervasive hunger that gnawed at their unfulfilled bellies and fogged their minds with weariness. In any event, seeing Nicole and Josette again was still a rare and wonderful delight.

Or at least Nicole.

Josette’s youthful glow had dimmed to an unhealthy pallor in the time since Elaine had seen her last; even the luster of her brown curls seemed to have dulled. “It’s good to see you,” she said in a shy whisper, her smile tight.

The printing press churned in the background, and though Elaine was deaf to its clatter, Josette flinched with every bang.

“I trust these brutes are treating you well,” Nicole said aloud and looked pointedly at the men in a mock threat.

“She’s a fast learner.” Antoine lifted his head from his art and offered a kind smile at Elaine. “We’re glad to have her.”

“I’m thinking of teaching her how to use the Minerva.” Marcel indicated to the smaller press.

“Are you?” Elaine’s pulse spiked at the possibility of moving beyond the small duplicating machine and her clerical duties. Printing wasn’t done by women. But then, there were few men now to choose from. Why not a woman?

“I’ll need to go to Grenoble soon.” Marcel removed a stack of papers from the press and relocated them to the table where several others lay. They not only printed Combat, which was written by their team, but also Défence de la France for the southern region.

“Grenoble?” Nicole interjected. “Why, I’ve just come from there and have your stamps.”

What she held in the wicker’s false bottom was a precious treasure. The stamps were priceless in a time when rubber was so difficult to obtain and so integral. As each new stamp was introduced for travel passes and identity papers and everything in between, an inside contact who worked as a secretary in Lyon’s town hall provided them with information to replicate the originals.

“You can bring them over there.” Elaine pointed to the room where Jean had gone and smiled to herself as Nicole click-clacked her way toward him.

Elaine turned her attention to Josette. “Are you doing well?”

The printing press banged, and Josette cringed. “Yes.” The smile she plastered on her dry lips was anything other than genuine. “Of course I am.”

Despite her obvious attempt to nudge away Elaine’s concern, Josette’s nerves were raw, her fear so visceral Elaine caught its metallic odor over the pulpy, velvety aromas of ink and paper.

“Denise has gone to join the Maquis, so it’s just Nicole and I now.” Josette brought her hand to her mouth and nipped at the cropped nail bed with her front teeth, the action distracted and without thought.

Her behavior was distressing.