I have the final installment of a four part pre-publication sneak peek. Written by an architect whose knowledge imbues every page, this story becomes more gripping with every soul hidden and every life saved. Lucien thought this was an amusing comment that he was obliged to let out his great belly laugh, the kind that annoyed his wife but always delighted his mistress. His face showed no emotion at all.
Lucien was taken aback. What the hell kind of question was that? But before giving Manet his gut response—that they were money-grubbing thieves—he took a deep breath. Lucien had grown up in a very anti-Semitic household.
The word Jew had always been followed by the word bastard. Lucien thought. Lucien was well aware that Jews had to wear a felt star. Gentiles had begun to wear the yellow stars or yellow flowers or handkerchiefs in protest. Lucien knew about Drancy.
It was an unfinished block of apartment buildings near Le Bourget Airport that an architect friend, Maurice Pappon, had worked on. A year earlier, it became the main detention camp for the Paris region, though it had no water, electric, or sanitary service. Pappon had told him that Drancy prisoners were forced onto trains to be relocated somewhere in the east.
Mothers with babies in their arms jumped from windows. Did you know that, monsieur? Lucien was aware of this.
