Shadows of the World » Band of Brothers

06: Who Said Anything About Safe?

"'Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.'
[...] 'Safe?' said Mr Beaver, 'Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good.'" - C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

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The Parisian sky was bleeding a deep purple over the yellow of day, which was fighting the invasion but losing its spirit with every tick of the clock. Juliette watched in silence, attempting to track the progression of the embattled sky but getting lost in thought too often to properly trace the slow change of colour. Paris was pretty by day and beautiful by evening, but night was coming, and not with the elegance she had always associated with the 'City of Love', but with the threat of chaos.

The hotel room she had been told to sneak into was modest and somewhat empty - a side effect, she supposed, of the lack of tourism that accompanied not only a war in Europe but an invasion of Nazis. There was no real need to maintain the smaller, less grand of hotels when the Nazis would never glance their way a second time let alone consider using them, and tourists certainly weren't queuing up outside the strict boarders of the city to stay under the watchful gaze of the Germans. Juliette could hardly blame them; the older, higher up Nazis were always unsettling, something malicious lurking in their gaze even when they didn't suspect you of dissidence. And when they did, you knew you were in real trouble. That memory in particular was one Juliette still, even nine months later, couldn't properly stomach.

The small clock on the bedside table ticked away another minute and Juliette sighed, turning from the window to return to her seat at the dressing table. She was hasty to get the mission over with, but timing was critical here, even more so than it ever had been before. Working alone meant there was no room for error. She had to leave her room at precisely the right moment, enter the venue at precisely the right moment, and slip out at precisely the right moment to ensure she was able to get out of Paris before she was caught and link up with William.

Juliette took small comfort in knowing that at least one member of her team was in the same country as her, even though he was put up just outside the city on account of not having the necessary forged paperwork to get in (for all intents and purposes, William was still back in Aldbourne, but Alexis hadn't been able to bear sending Juliette completely alone). The Nazis were stricter about Paris than they were about anywhere else.

At least, she decided, she was used to Paris. Her and her team had been operating out of Paris almost since it was first occupied by the Germans. Of course, they had been moved across Europe - in the early years of the war they couldn't seem to train spies fast enough, so they had been spread rather thin and dropped across seemingly every European country she could name - but they were always returned to Paris at some point or other. Indeed, it was Paris they had just left before finding themselves in Aldbourne.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Juliette pulled on her most winning smile, just like she had been taught in training all those years ago. She had been trained as an undercover specialist because she appeared unsuspicious, in every sense of the word. She had big brown eyes that drew you in and a smile that made you want to trust her. Her slender form made her physically unimposing, and those fluttering eyelashes had been the downfall of many an unsuspecting Nazi. She was beautiful in that angelic way, all kind eyes and soft, lingering gazes. Beautiful in the way that made your heart ache. She was no seductress and she knew it, had even been told so in training, but that didn't mean that she couldn't manipulate her femininity to her advantage. Her beauty made people trust that she was as pretty inside as she was outside, and that was their weakness. That was the pressure point she could press and use to bring them to their knees every time. It always worked a charm.

Juliette forewent the red lipstick she would usually adorn for such a soirée and instead applied a soft pink, really playing up the softness she knew would disarm her target. She didn't need him to want to get her into bed, she needed him to want to follow anywhere she led, even unknowing of why he was following her in the first place. He had to not want much out of their interaction, so that she wouldn't have to give it to him. This operation was different to the ones she'd done before, where she would get them into bed and leave them breathless in more than one sense of the word. This time, he still had to be able to complete his own mission, and not suspect that anything was awry in the slightest.

Her hands trembled thinking about it. This mission was slippery and relied heavily on perfect timing. She only hoped her superiors hadn't overestimated her ability to charm men when playing on their lust wasn't her objective; she had never really been ordered to talk to the targets before.

Running her hand over the brown, bouncy curls that trailed down her back and adjusting the neckline of her dress she nodded to herself and went over the details, her lips moving silently as she mouthed the facts she needed to remember.

"My name is Marie de Chagny, I am twenty-three years old, birthday first of May. I was born in Bordeaux and moved to Paris in the September of 1938 to attend the University of Paris, studying Literature. I ended my studies upon the outbreak of war to make munitions in a nearby factory whereupon I was scouted to begin a career as a backing singer. I have worked with Edith Piaf, though others are not so worth mentioning. My target is a courier named Wilhelm Herbst, aged twenty-seven as of the nineteenth of August. He will enter with the documents in a briefcase, likely to take champagne at the door, before engaging in small talk around the outskirts of the room to make himself inconspicuous. He is due to swap briefcases with his own contact at 2218, thirty-three minutes after arriving. He will greet the man as old friends and speak boisterously to marginalise any company. Both briefcases will be set on the table beside them before they nod at each other, salute, and pick up the other's case. He will make small talk with those he passes and gradually make his way towards the door before exiting the facility at an estimated time of 2230."

Juliette sucked in a breath and nodded to herself, closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel the air leave her lungs when she exhaled. She could do this. She'd done similar hundreds of times over. She couldn't let the fact that she was alone this time get to her.

She looked over the three pictures of her target she'd been given one final time; one of his profile, one of the back of his head, and one head-on. Then she ripped them up. She'd studied the photographs so carefully she knew she'd recognise this man in a crowd of thousands. She had nothing to worry about.

Checking herself in the mirror one final time she fluffed her hair, sprayed some perfume, and smiled, hopeful that everything would go smoothly and she would return to William briskly and without incident. If all went well, she would be back in Aldbourne within a few hours, and to every unsuspecting eye in the village it would be as though nothing had happened at all.