"In Paris, our lives are one masked ball." - Gaston Leroux, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra
-
Juliette made it to the Grand Foyer with enough time to offer polite smiles to those who glanced her way and tuck herself against the wall, nestled safely in a corner close to the door where she knew she could hide from unwanted attention. She glanced around the room in the remaining minutes she had to spare, taking in the faces of those around her and paying close attention to the positions of all of the Nazi officers.
There were two exits to the room, the one through which she had entered and one at the other end - indeed, the Grand Foyer was more of a hallway than a room, though it was the grandest hallway Juliette had ever witnessed, to be certain. It was decked out in more gold than she could even comprehend the cost of, winding into intricate designs which all seemed to reach towards the main event; renaissance paintings that danced across the ceiling. Intricate and incredibly beautiful paintings of cherubs and heavenly figures, common people and nobles, told a story she couldn't even begin to dissect, shades of sky blue and forest green giving way to deep reds and purples. Juliette thought she could stare at those paintings for the rest of her life and never once get bored, and tore her eyes away with much reluctance.
She scanned the room once more until her eyes fell upon the courier's intended contact, his briefcase hanging at his side and tucked safely between him and the wall, though it was not the contents of that briefcase which were valuable. She would hardly have been surprised if it was empty.
Juliette estimated she had around thirty seconds before an unsuspecting Wilhelm Herbst was to make his entrance and she set about subtly making sure she was ready. She stood taller, pushed her shoulders back just a tad more, and let a soft smile draw up her lips. Gone once more was the girl who had just killed a man in the bathroom, though the image of the Oberführer had lodged itself in her brain and haunted her through apparitions which appeared in the face of every Nazi present.
Through her peripheral vision Juliette watched the man from the pictures enter the Foyer and accept a champagne flute as expected, before moving off in her general direction to mingle. The briefcase that had what she needed was gripped carefully in his right hand and he, too, made sure it was flanked by himself and the wall as he began to speak in fast German to an officer and his wife.
Juliette watched with practised interest that betrayed that she wasn't at all intrigued as to the contents of the conversation, but rather the man who was initiating it, and soon caught Wilhelm's eye over the officer's wife's shoulder. Shrinking under his gaze, Juliette drew her eyes to the floor and let her smile grow just slightly before looking back up at him through her lashes and dimpling prettily when she found his eyes still locked on her. His smile grew and she knew she had him.
Finally, something was going right for her tonight.
Wilhelm made quick work of politely ending his conversation before making his way directly over to her, downing the last of his champagne and handing it off to one of the waiters that lined the walls before coming to stand before her with a charming smile. Up close he looked younger than she knew he was; there was something about him that was incredibly boyish, even in spite of the perfectly pressed dress uniform and meticulously styled blond hair.
Wilhem Herbst looked young, innocent, and naïve, and funnily enough, that was exactly what she needed him to be.
"Mademoiselle," he began, his accent already less obvious than that of the Oberführer from before, "might I say that a similarly exquisite being has never walked the earth. I am sure the heavens opened and dropped you here if only to show the world what it was doing wrong."
Ah, she thought, so he's a smooth-talker.
"You flatter me far more than I fear I deserve, monsieur," she replied, matching his English though with a French accent, dipping her head demurely and exhaling all of the air out of her lungs only to hold what was left, forcing a blush into her cheeks.
"Would you tell me, my angel, what is your name?" he inquired, and where the Oberführer had commanded her submission, he was asking whether she would grant him the pleasure of knowing her. It was a welcome change of pace, though the uniform was much to his detriment.
Nice try, she thought.
"It is Marie, monsieur," she told him with a gentle smile, fluttering her lashes as she added, "Won't you tell me yours?"
"To my friends, I am Wilhelm."
"Are we friends?"
"I should very much like to be." And there was what she needed.
"Will you tell me, monsieur, what do you think of Paris? Do we not have the finest art in all of the world?" she inquired of him, gesturing to the ceiling above them and glancing at it once more, though he spared it only a single glance before returning his gaze to her face.
"The art in Paris is very beautiful, though it pales remarkably in comparison to its inhabitants. Mademoiselle Marie, have you ever been to Berlin?"
"I am afraid I haven't," she confided. The lie fell as easily from her lips as the air she exhaled.
"Oh, my dear, then you have not lived!" he announced, his words accented and so loud she might have thought he was seeking to address the whole room. "You will never find finer art than that in the Pergamon."
"Well, I am sure I can change your mind," she replied, breaking eye contact in order to gaze out across the room again, aware of his eyes on her as he considered her words. He would follow her, she knew it.
"Oh?"
"Have you yet visited, monsieur, the Opera's Dancers' Foyer?" She knew, of course, he hadn't. She knew he had only arrived seven minutes previously, and the Dancers' Foyer was rarely used for public events aside from by the corps de ballet of the Opera House, who wouldn't be there because the night's performances had not yet commenced.
"I am sure I haven't."
"Then allow me to attempt to change your mind, monsieur? It shall only take a moment." She knew that he knew he had time to spare before having to make the briefcase swap. It would be reckless to leave the Foyer and she knew it, but she was a more experienced spy than he; he was merely a courier, and a new one at that. Plus, she had him wrapped around her little finger. He would follow anywhere she led.
"Lead the way, mademoiselle."
As they slipped out of the Grand Foyer, which had filled up so much they left relatively unnoticed, she babbled off in a thick French accent the many times she had visited the Opera House and how one of her friends was in the corps de ballet. She could feel Wilhelm's eyes never once leave her face as she led him by the hand through the many hallways of the Opera House, not fully listening to what she was saying regardless, until they came upon the famed Foyer de la Danse.
It was substantially less well lit than the Grand Staircase and the Grand Foyer, but that added something to its beauty, Juliette thought. She had never seen the Dancers' Foyer before but something about it made her feel quite at home. A single, extravagant chandelier hung in the centre of the relatively small room, its many candles illuminating the gold plating of the columns that lined the walls and large floor-to-ceiling windows. The limited lighting which spread like a beacon from the chandelier bathed the room in an almost ethereal glow, half gothic and half romantic.
It was the kind of lighting that was deceiving, and where Juliette usually appeared so angelic, in the low light she left Wilhelm wondering 'beauty or beast'?
Juliette took the courier gently by the hand and led him across the room until their backs were pressed against the mirrors that covered the entirety of the north wall, and pointed upwards until his gaze followed her finger to the pale blue renaissance paintings that littered this ceiling, too. However, whilst the Grand Foyer's paintings had been all about extravagance and grandeur, these were much more elegant. There was a certain softness to them that spoke of a gentler time. Juliette had not known such a world, but smiled at the dream of it the paintings offered her.
In the candlelight these paintings were far more beautiful than the Grand Foyer's could ever be, she decided, and knew Wilhelm thought the same as his eyes remained transfixed on them. Or perhaps he was humouring her. She would never know, but it didn't particularly matter, for his attention was averted and that was all she needed.
"You are quite right. It is spectacular."
"If you think those are beautiful you should see the view from the window."
The blond man looked down at her with a smile for a few moments before crossing the room absentmindedly to look out of one of the windows at the dark Paris skyline. He had left his briefcase on the floor behind him where he had left it to rest whilst he looked at the ceiling.
Knowing she had no time to waste, Juliette crouched beside it and entered the numbered code before unlocking it silently, slipping out the envelope before replacing it with the identical one she had hidden in a strap on her thigh, the slit on the other side of her dress serving its purpose dutifully. Within the space of a few seconds, the briefcase was once again shut and locked, and Juliette tucked the correct envelope back up under her dress, rising to her feet before crossing the room just as Wilhelm looked back at her with a smile.
"It is quite the beautiful view, no?" she asked him softly, caressing a line from the centre of his back to his shoulder with a single finger.
"Not quite as beautiful as the view before me now." And then he kissed her, with much more fervour and passion than she had expected of a man so slight and with such charming words. Looks could be deceiving, she supposed.
When he pulled away his eyes seemed to land on the briefcase on the floor by the mirrors, for his eyes widened and his eyebrows hopped up.
"I am afraid I have some business I must attend to, mademoiselle," he told her, and she feigned great upset. He raised a hand to caress her cheek and smiled gently. "Wait for me here and I will return faster than you know it."
She nodded with a renewed smile and he left with the fake intel, sparing her a final glance and smile before he left her in silence. She waited the three minutes she knew it would take him to return to the Grand Foyer before making her exit.
Now she just had to get out of Paris, and back to the safe haven that was Aldbourne.