If you're following the playlist, we're now up to Le Chant des Partisans.
Danielle's eyes were narrowed and thoughtful. She took a moment to inhale and exhale a plume of smoke.
"Thank you for telling me, Delphine. I knew about the food but had no word on the medicines, which must mean Pascal has actively been trying to keep this operation quiet." She turned to look at Luc, one of her steadiest and most trusted allies. "There's always some angle of power with him, some manipulation. Make sure we're well covered at the meeting tonight." Luc nodded, a gesture as good as a contract with him. Danielle looked back at Delphine.
"I want you to come with us, Delphine. I… previously I had been trying to protect you somewhat, knowing your experiences and potential visibility, but by bringing me this news of your own volition… I think it's both fair and advantageous for you to be there when we meet with Col. Rol's envoys."
Delphine's eyes widened.
"So, you are actually meeting with them tonight? I would love to be there for that. As you know, science, medicine, it's so important to me and our cause. I hate to think treatments that could save lives are being limited…"
She didn't speak of the tiny, barely-glowing hope inside her, the one that she was trying not to recognize or admit, even to herself. That these Americans might know a way to contact Cosima, her Dove.
"Yes, at nine o'clock, so you'd better get yourself something to eat before we go. And yes, that is something we will have to get to the bottom of."
Delphine nodded and headed toward the Lafrange's kitchen.
"And Delphine," Danielle called, causing Delphine to turn and look at her from the doorway, "thank you."
It wasn't long before the three of them plus Jean-Marc, another associate of theirs, were on their way to the meeting place. Even Delphine noticed subtle signals that were given, and spotted some allies of Danielle's near them on the streets they walked. Danielle had protection around them. Delphine wondered how suspicious she should have been of other arms of the resistance all this time. There was always the chance of a double agent, like — she winced at the thought of the name — Sabine. But that she would also have to be cautious about disagreements and power plays within the resistance was sobering and disappointing.
They reached the small bar and nightclub — now reduced to more a place to meet quietly and drink cheap wine than for revelry — and Delphine noted the sign: Le Petit Chiot. Inside, there were just a few people scattered about, mostly huddled over drinks and cigarettes. The bartender looked up, saw Danielle, and nodded. They proceeded to a door at the back, which led to a private room with more presentable furnishings.
Claude and Bernard were there. Claude found himself at the end of an elbow in the ribs and a withering look when he automatically raised his hand to dumbly wave at Delphine.
A taller man, broad and rugged, sat at a table near the middle of the room. He was well-muscled, with a handsome face marred by a once-broken nose and a thick coat of beard stubble. There was something both attractive and intimidating about him. He half-rose and indicated the seat across from him.
"Danielle," he said, his voice deep. His eyes moved to take in Delphine and he rose to his full height. "And mademoiselle…?"
"Cut the crap, Pascal, I'm sure you know who she is," Danielle said as she sat, her face and voice, despite her words, teasing and light. "Or have too many of your little birds flown away?"
Pascal's face twisted into half-smile.
"You're always so clever, Danielle. And, yes, Mademoiselle Cormier, enchantée. I've heard you have been blossoming into the Florence Nightingale of Paris." He took her hand and kissed it.
Delphine felt her cheeks flush slightly in spite of herself. In reality, she felt more distrusting of the man than charmed, but she could see how his charisma had called other men to serve him. She caught the slightest roll of Danielle's eyes out of her peripheral vision.
"So, what's on the table today," Danielle prompted, getting down to business. "News of what the Germans are planning from your sector? Food distribution? Thoughts on when the Allies might arrive?"
Delphine stepped back to the loose circle of people not sitting at the table as Pascal seated himself.
"The Germans have built formidable defenses around the perimeter of city," he stated, matter-of-factly. "They know things aren't going their way and many are pulling out, but we can't trust the Americans to listen to De Gaulle's ramblings and press into the city now. It would cost them too much. We've amassed good supplies of food and sufficient weapons for us to make a strong move to liberate the city ourselves, as the French people of Paris."
Delphine chewed on her lip. She had heard small bits of information, rumours that the Germans were on their last legs in France, besieged at all sides, stories of rebelling resistance fighters taking control of the police prefecture. There were even whispers that Hitler had ordered the complete destruction of the City of Light, an order which was being postponed and held off by General von Choltitz, the German military commander of Paris, after being convinced by the mayor of Paris, who was a known collaborationist, not to reduce this city of historic importance and beauty to rubble. All of these ideas raised hope in her mind, but, in her position, she had little evidence, and didn't know what to believe. What was more, Parisians who resisted were also still being captured and shot down by the occupying Nazis. As brave as she was, she didn't want her unlikely escape from death to be for nothing but a slightly later death due to being too rash and visible to the Germans. Her nearly-healed wounds ached just thinking about it.
This man Pascal spoke gruffly, but assuredly. He may have knowledge Danielle didn't have, or he may just have different opinions. No matter what, Delphine was set on standing by her friend.
Danielle raised an eyebrow and settled back in her chair. She seemed serious, but unimpressed.
"Pascal, even you must know that the arms you have couldn't possibly last against an entrenched German force. It would just get more citizens killed. Meanwhile, the Free French are taking positions where they count, in government offices. And don't forget, LeClerc is a man of action," she pointed a finger at him, almost scolding, while referring to the General in command of Free French 2nd division that was working with the Allies. "You know how he fought in Africa. I have little doubt he will move his division toward Paris at the earliest opportunity."
Pascal chuckled humourlessly.
"Oh, yes? His reputation is so low among the Americans, they'll allow him nothing. Not to mention there's no way they'll allow a group with so many nationalities and men of dark skin be the liberators of Paris. They'll want that honour all to themselves, whenever they finally feel they have time to do it. Better to stand up for ourselves. In times like these, all citizens are soldiers."
They stared at each other for a moment. Danielle sighed.
"Well, you know I disagree with you as you with me. I'm not urging any of my people to violently rebel just yet. The odds are too bad. Maybe, as you say, they will change. And we will talk about it again. But in the meantime, I think there are some pressing local matters we could discuss, such as your success moving food to the districts, not to mention other useful supplies. I firmly believe this is something we could all benefit from working on together."
"Hm," Pascal answered coolly, "Certain things are better handled by smaller forces. However, in view of how Dr. Lafrange and your other friends have been providing good aid to the sick and wounded, we may be able to include you in distributing some newly-sourced antibiotics, under our guidance and all in good faith, of course."
"Yes, I was wondering about those antibiotics—" Danielle began, but was interrupted by some raised voices outside the door. The whole group turned their attention to the portal, several of them putting their hands on weapons concealed on their bodies. Delphine froze, hand clutching a chair beside her. Her body tensed, willing her to run if necessary.
The voices quieted, although they were still sharp. Then, there was a sudden sequence of knocks on the door.
"Come in," Pascal called, his voice powerful. The door opened.
A tall, gawky young man in glasses came stumbling in, sweating and breathing heavily. His eyes took in the group and widened, frightened, but as they saw him, Pascal's men seemed less than threatened. He took a step toward Pascal.
"I… you didn't tell me about the meeting," he wheezed. He looked as though he had run some distance to get there. "We've got to talk… about the medicine, about getting information…"
His French was poor and he was not at all intimidating, but he seemed determined. His accent sounds American, Delphine thought, her body straightening, ears attuned. Could he be one of the scientists?
Pascal scowled at the man, but his voice remained level.
"Monsieur Smith, we're in the middle of some important talks, and I was just about to get into the subjects you mention, but I don't really need your input at this time. Wouldn't you better…"
Smith actually interrupted him.
"I wouldn't better anything. We've, we're making these medicines for a reason, and… and, I'm sorry, but if there's any chance we can get any word on—"
Pascal's voice came back at him, clearly annoyed now.
"Monsieur Smith, Scott, I assure you that these things are being discussed, but this is not the place and time for you to participate right now."
Danielle had turned in her chair to see Scott, and she reached out to him, prompting him to take another, unsure step forward as she took his hand. Her shrewdness was just perceptible under a gentle expression.
"Monsieur Smith, I'm Danielle Fournier. How do you do. If you are working with medicines I'm sure my friend Delphine and one of our associates would be happy to discuss it with you in the other room — perhaps over a drink? — while Pascal and I finish here."
"Delphine…?" Scott asked, seemingly stopped in his mental tracks. He scanned the room, turning his head until his gaze landed on Delphine, who took a small step forward.
"Hello, Mr. Smith. I'm Delphine—"
His look became incredulous as he took in her chopped brown hair, the glasses, the wounds, and then recognized the face underneath from the photographs in her file.
"Delphine? Delphine Cormier? I… I-I'm Scott," he stuttered. "Scott? I worked with the Dove. Cosima."
Delphine's mouth dropped open. She hadn't realized her knees were giving out until Danielle's guard beside her caught her at the waist. She straightened up, but couldn't seem to get a word out.
Danielle's eyes sparkled with interest.
"It seems you two may know each other. Perhaps you have important things to discuss, too. Jean-Marc, please be a dear and escort these two to a comfortable area to sit, have a drink, and talk in? And please remain close. I want their safety assured."
Jean-Luc nodded and took Delphine's arm, quickly guiding her to the door. Pascal, eyes narrowed, made a gesture at one of his men, who walked up to Scott and put his hand on his shoulder, guiding him out the door and staying with him, closing it behind them. There was a moment of quiet.
"Well," Danielle said, turning back to meet Pascal's gaze, "isn't this interesting?"