The Paris Architect: A Novel by Charles Belfoure Read Free Book Online Page A

Flower-patterned wallpaper and carpets with carved walnut furniture were more to her liking, like the things in the apartment where she grew up.
    Celeste pulled out a scarf from the stainless steel dresser inlaid with ebony wood, which rested against the wall opposite the bed. She paused and looked down at the bottom drawer, at what had been resting under the scarf. Baby blankets, dozens of them, in bright colors. She ran her hand over the soft lamb’s wool then picked one up and held it to her cheek.

6
    When an elderly porter led Lucien into Manet’s office at his factory in Chaville, Lucien was shocked to see German officers sitting in front of the old man’s ornate mahogany desk, smoking cigarettes and casually conversing with him. He had imagined a private meeting with Manet, in which he would learn the particulars of the project. Maybe a leisurely lunch afterward with a glass of real wine and roast duck. Manet would be paying, of course.
    Manet beamed a great avuncular smile when he saw Lucien and immediately rose from his chair. The Germans sat where they were, puffing away without the least bit of curiosity for the late arrival. Lucien was two minutes early, but being familiar with German punctuality, he knew they had arrived at least ten minutes early.
    “Ah, Lucien. Thank you for coming,” Manet said. “Let me introduce you to the members of our team.”
    Lucien took an immediate dislike to the word “team.” Team meant creative interference and problems.
    “This is Colonel Max Lieber of the Wehrmacht.”
    The stout, barrel-chested German rose, clicked his heels, and firmly shook Lucien’s hand. It was the first time Lucien had shaken hands with a German, and he was surprised that the officer did not try to squeeze the blood out of his hand. He imagined that Prussian military men often did that. Lieber looked like the stereotypical German soldier, with the short military haircut and bull neck that the French made fun of.
    “A great pleasure, Monsieur Bernard,” said the German, in a soft smooth voice that didn’t conform with his coarse features.
    “And this is Major Dieter Herzog, also of the Wehrmacht. He’s a structural engineer and head of construction and engineering of armaments facilities for the Paris region.”
    This German was in his mid-thirties, of average height, with a face that could have been mistaken for a film star’s. He put out his cigarette in the ashtray on Manet’s desk and slowly rose from his seat. He had a handshake exactly like Lieber’s. Handshaking must have been taught at officer’s school. Herzog’s clear blue eyes gazed into Lucien’s, but he just smiled and did not say anything.
    Lucien was still dazed by the presence of the Germans so close to him, in the tight confines of this office.
    “Please sit down, Lucien, and we’ll begin,” Manet said. “I have a plan of the site so we can get an idea of how the building will fit.”
    Manet unrolled a drawing and placed it on a clear spot on his desk. Lucien thought he should have pinned it up on the wall.
    “Monsieur Manet, may I pin this drawing on the wall over there so that we can get a better look?” asked Herzog in a polite manner. “It’ll be easier to draw on if we have to.”
    Lucien was impressed as Herzog took the drawing to the wall opposite the desk and secured it with some tacks. Without anyone saying a word, all four men dragged their chairs in front of the drawing. Herzog stood next to the drawing and studied it intently. He then pulled a small engineer’s scale out of his side tunic pocket and placed it on the drawing. Lucien knew that this man would be running the meeting and that from now on he would have to do whatever Herzog said.
    “Since the factory will be on one floor, with the exception of some mezzanine space, let’s assume a 50,000-square-meter footprint,” said Herzog as if he were talking to the drawing. He moved the scale around and then pulled a pencil out of the same pocket,