Bridgette’s mouth fell open. “Achim…” Her voice dropped to a gentle plea. “What has happened? You’re not the same. Have I done something to offend you?” She moved closer, but he stepped back as if she’d breathed dragon fire. For an instant his hard gaze softened to something like sorrow, but it vanished as quickly as a switched-off light.

“I am perfectly fine,” he said coldly. “Now I must see to my duty. Good evening, mademoiselle.”

Bridgette observed him walk away to assume his “duty,” which consisted of walking a few yards to plant himself in full view of the evening metro rush, leaving her to push open the heavy courtyard door that he had come to perform as a routine courtesy upon her return in the evening. It could be a flimsy, petty thing that had set him against her, Bridgette told herself. Achim Fleischer was soon to be inducted into the Vichy Milice, that ultra-hated body of French police that discouraged associations with people of their jurisdictions, and he might have recognized his friendship with Mademoiselle Dufor as no longer appropriate. But Bridgette remained unconvinced. Hatred had flamed on his face, the kind that stemmed from deep betrayal, but when had she betrayed Achim Fleischer? A greater concern was his suspicion that the mural was more than an aquatic landscape. Bridgette would give him a few days. Maybe she could worm out of him the reason for his change of mood before deciding whether to report his about-face to the major.

*  *  *

An hour after he’d dropped his need for a cutout into the mail slot, Brad had passed by the wall again with hope that Labrador had acted upon his request. His hope was rewarded at the glance of the dark parallel lines cleverly stroked in as part of the shading on the mollusk, and he’d taken off to meet his cutout to deposit the treasure he’d found in Major General March’s study. The brush pass went off without a hitch. Brad expected the list of German agents to arrive in Bern today. Major Renault would act fast once the names were in his hands, and then he and Lapwing would know whether to scram or to stay in place. The waiting would be terrible and require a risky number of passes by the mural. The cop had not been there this morning or on Monday, and Brad had hoped he’d disappeared for good.