“From under this roof at least. If he’s found before he can get out of France, he’ll be shot. A manhunt is on for him.” She released a blissful sigh. “I can already breathe easier. You should, too, Stephane.”

“Yes…” Bucky said doubtfully. The thought he’d had earlier of the rescue squad using a bullet to spare themselves the trouble of dealing with the American traitor might not have been an idle one after all. He wondered if his father or the major had ordered the alternate plan to get the sergeant out of France. Uneasy in his mind, Bucky joined the others in the living room to hear the report of Dirk’s desertion. “He won’t get far,” the captain was saying to his colleagues and the agog Frenchmen. “Damned American. I knew never to trust the quisling. It will be the firing squad for him if he’s caught.”

He won’t be caught, Bucky could have told them, suddenly sure of Dirk Drechsler’s fate. The poor sap should never have left Texas. Somehow, he’d have to let Lapwing know that he no longer had to fear running into his best friend from childhood. Bucky suspected that he would be sad, but he could breathe easier, too.

*  *  *

On Tuesday evening, the day the story ran in Le Temps, Bridgette said to Sister Mary Frances, “Do you believe it was an accident?”

“What else could it be, ma chère amie? The metro platform at rush hour is one of the most dangerous places in Paris. Achim was standing too close to the tracks, no doubt to bully his way to be first onboard. He had been properly warned and chose not to listen. It was due to his own nature that he met his untimely death.”

Untimely, my eye! thought Bridgette, looking hard at Sister Mary Frances. Achim’s “accident,” only hours after she informed the major of the mother superior’s report, was too timely to be anything but deliberate. A chill seized her. She had not anticipated a drastic and permanent removal of the threat to her safety.

Sister Mary Frances placed cool fingers to Bridgette’s cheek. “You must carry on as you were, my child. You are fighting on the right side—God’s side—to rid the world of a great evil. Sometimes the greater good requires casualties. Achim was on the wrong side.”

Bridgette stared at her. Good Lord! The mother superior was in on this somehow. The nun had an idea of what had happened to Achim Fleischer. “Live in peace, my child,” the woman advised kindly. “Achim now is with God. I will pray that he is shown mercy.”