Paris: The Novel

explosions, huge flashes. This was the Dalou boys and their friends putting on a show.
    Both the police and the Gestapo men were totally distracted now. Max was face-to-face with Müller.
    And then Müller screamed.
    “We’re French. It’s a trap!” And his two companions were shouting as well. And Charlie saw Max stare at them and then swivel, bob his head down and double back toward him. As he came closer, Charlie saw one of the two Gestapo men still in the theater run around the theater door and take aim at Max, but he managed to bring the Sten gun around and got him with a short burst.
    Then Max was crashing through the doorway, and Charlie smacked it shut and locked it behind him, and then both ran down the passage and out through the window at the back. And they kept running into the narrow alleyway, and got over a garden wall, and burst into the building beyond.
    Max was panting as they reached the doorway that gave out into the street beyond. They looked out. There was nobody there except the small form of Thomas Gascon, at the edge of the trees, a hundred yards away, signaling to them that the coast was clear.
    They had just caught up with him, and were running up the slope when they heard the sound of boots in the street behind them. Four or five police were on the roadway. They were taking aim. Charlie heard a rattle of fire, felt something thud into him. The next moment he felt Max pulling the Sten gun out of his hands. The Sten gun chattered into life. He heard a scream. Max’s arm was under his left arm, Thomas Gascon’s under his right. The old man was amazingly strong. He felt himself stumbling forward. Max glanced back.
    “They won’t follow,” he said. “But within the hour, they’ll be searching house to house. We’ve got to get Charlie somewhere safe. Can you walk a bit, Charlie, if we help you?”
    “I think so.”
    “Well,” said Max to Thomas, “do you know a place we can hide around here?”
    “Yes,” said Thomas, “I do.”

    When Luc saw Thomas and his companions at his door, he was horrified.
    “We’ve got to get him out of sight,” Thomas whispered.
    “What do you mean?” Luc whispered back.
    “You know.” Thomas turned to Max. “We’re going into the garden at the back.”
    Luc seized Thomas by the arm and pulled him to one side.
    “Are you insane?” he hissed urgently. “That’s my hiding place. That’s just for you and me.”
    “It was a trap. He’s been shot. We have to hide him,” Thomas answered.
    Luc moaned.
    “You don’t understand. They’ll know my hiding place.”
    “Not if we’re quick. We left them back at the bottom of the hill. They’ve hardly started searching yet. Open the back door, for God’s sake.”
    “Oh, brother, you’ve just killed me,” Luc told him.
    But Thomas took no further notice.
    “We’ll need a lamp,” he said.

    It was a long night. At about midnight, the police rapped on the door of the house. Luc, half asleep, opened the door. He seemed puzzled, and asked them what it was all about. They searched the house, went into the garden at the back, opened the shed. But Luc had done a good job. There was no sign of people hiding or of any disturbance to the place at all. After searching the other buildings nearby, the police abruptly left.

    For Thomas and Max, alone with Charlie in the cave, the hours passed slowly. They hadn’t taken Charlie all the way down to the chamber at the end, but found a place around the first bend where there was enough room for him to lie comfortably. Some of the food supplies that Luc had stored were stacked just a few feet away.
    Max had looked carefully at the wound in Charlie’s back. Charlie was shivering a little.
    “Can we get a doctor?” Thomas asked.
    “Difficult now. Maybe in the morning,” said Max.
    “I just thought …”
    “I was in the war in Spain,” said Max quietly. “I saw a lot of people get hit. Just trust me.”
    A little after midnight, Charlie’s mind seemed to wander. He startedmurmuring. He said the name of Louise. Then Esmé. Then he grew quiet. He was breathing with difficulty.
    “Mon ami,”
said Max, “you know who I am?”
    “Yes, Max,” said Charlie.
    “We were betrayed tonight. Could it have been Corinne?”
    “Never. She would never …”
    “One can never be sure, Charlie. What if the Gestapo threatened her family?”
    “She came from England. She’s no family here, except for her son, Esmé.”
    “Where’s he?”
    “Down in