Brad said he understood. The captain sat back and released a sigh of relief. Brad figured that Claude Allard would assume his new guide had been placed with him to gather intelligence from his German clients as well as to report river transports of military troops and equipment. However, the real purpose of Brad’s mission was to ingratiate himself to Major General Konrad March, an avid angler like himself and chief of the Abwehr in Paris. The general had forgone living in the luxurious Hotel Lutetia in the heart of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, the Abwehr’s headquarters, to reside in an imposing house seized from a wealthy Jewish family. The house’s attractions were that it was located within a line’s cast of the River Seine and was more suitable for raising a seven-year-old son. Just over the hedge separating the general’s confiscated quarters from the mansion next door, Brad lived above the stables in a small apartment rented from the property owner, a widow who had fallen on bad times. He had been briefed on the weekend pattern of the general’s visits to the riverbank, and he planned to use the information to introduce himself as soon as possible.

Brad’s thoughts were halted by a small, middle-aged man hurrying toward him. A yellow star on the left breast of his flapping jacket identified him as a Jew. The poor guy was obviously trying to make it home to beat the Nazi-imposed six o’clock deadline. Rage flared in Brad at the insult forced upon people like his aunt’s husband. He hoped the man made it. Infractions of the curfew carried harsh penalties, like the beatings he’d witnessed inflicted in the Latin Quarter. More to his disgust was that some Parisians carried whistles to alert the police that a Jew had broken curfew. Apprehension meant a reward for the betrayer—a loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, piece of meat.