The Sixth Seal

The big, black Mercedes barreled down the narrow streets, responding eagerly under Niklas’ guidance. Hannah could tell how much the young man enjoyed driving it. She wondered briefly what he would have made of his life had it not been for the war.

He pulled the car onto a large circular drive in front of a two-story stone building. Its architecture resembled that of the Capitole, if somewhat less grand. Still, it looked much too big to be a library.

Apparently sensing her confusion, he explained. “Welcome to the university. Its archives are the largest in the city.”

“Certainly,” she said, as if she had already known the fact.

“Of course, there are no students or professors here at the moment. All studies have been canceled by the Vichy until further notice.”

“Is there anyone staffing the library?”

He turned off the engine. “Yes. At least I think so. There should be a few of the staff left. Command is using it as another office, and I believe the archives contain quite a few useful maps.”

“Naturally.”

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing...I mean...naturally this would be a good place to headquarter...given the resources.”

She opened the door, but before she could climb out, he was at her side, holding out his hand.

“Thank you.” She tried to mask her repulsion at his touch.

He shut the door behind her, and then gently guided her toward the entrance. When they were at the top of the steps, he opened the door and ushered her inside. The university was less grand than the Capitole, but it was still quite impressive in its own right. The floors were marble with simple but elegant patterns that mirrored the latticework design of the ceiling. The walls a rich, buttery hue that made the building feel more inviting than it had any right to be, given the current state of affairs.

“The library is a few halls down.” He pointed down the expansive corridor.

A cacophony of clicks and clacks floated to her as they passed by an open doorway. Rows and rows of typewriters sat neatly in the center of tiny wooden tables. One of the women nearest the door looked up from her work long enough to watch them as they walked by.

“So many offices here,” she remarked to him. “Your forces have taken up a much bigger presence in the city than I originally imagined.”

He nodded. “Yes, nearly five thousand troops now,” he said. “With more arriving every day.”

But why? Toulouse is hardly a key strategic site. She smiled at him and nodded. The hope that the Nazi’s were oblivious to the power they had in their possession faded with each new office they passed.

She considered asking him if he knew why the city was being fortified to such a large extent, but he hurried a few steps in front of her and opened another door.

“Here we are, Miss, the archives.”

“So when will you be coming back for me?”

He furrowed his brow. “Coming back? Oh, no, I’m supposed to stay with you.”

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m afraid I have my orders, Miss Klein.” He ushered her through the doorway.

She could see there was no point in arguing. He was the type to follow orders to the letter, just the sort of young man the Nazis preferred. She decided to try another approach. Maybe if she could keep him busy, he wouldn’t notice if she slipped away. The library was certainly big enough to get lost in. The first floor had several rows of walnut reading tables capped with brass lamps and ringed by low-backed chairs. The tables were flanked by massive oak shelves that looked as though they had been there for ages. The second floor, which could be seen from the first, was lined neatly with a bewildering array of oak shelves. A wrought-iron spiral staircase connected it to the first floor.

“Since you have to stay, maybe you can make yourself useful.” She pointed toward a card catalog cabinet sitting on a table just opposite the library counter. “I’ll make a list of some reference books that I need, and you can collect those while I look through the archives.”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn’t protest. Instead, he reached behind the counter and grabbed a slip of paper and a pen and handed it to her. “Here, make your list.”

Before she could take the paper, a woman stepped out from behind one of the shelves. She stopped when she caught sight of Niklas. Her look reminded Hannah of a surprised animal, wild-eyed and ready to flee. The poor woman’s hair was disheveled and her skin sallow. She clutched a couple of books tightly to her chest.

“May I help you?” she asked. Her voice barely audible. She cast her eyes to the floor.

Hannah thought Niklas looked as though he were going to say something unpleasant, so she spoke before he had the chance. “Could you point me in the direction of the archives? Specifically ancient texts.”

“Yes, Miss.” The woman nodded and walked quickly to the counter. “The room is upstairs, but it’s locked. Let me get my keys and I’ll open it for you.”

As the woman placed the books on the counter, and then made her way around it, Hannah took the paper and pen from Niklas. She scrawled a hurried list of books that she thought might keep him busy for a while.

“Here, see if you can find these books and any others that relate to these subjects. Just put them on one of the tables. I’m going to check out the archives, so I might be awhile.”

He took the list, eyed it and her, and then made his way toward the catalog.

“I’ve found my key, Miss.” The woman held up the key, her hand shaking slightly. “If you’ll just follow me.”

The woman walked in short, unsteady steps to the staircase. She gripped the railing tightly as she slowly wound her way up the stairs. Hannah kept one hand free to catch her if she fell backward. As the woman’s hand slid up the railing, she noticed a small tattooed Star of David on her wrist.

The towering shelves formed a long, narrow passage leading to a solitary door at the far end. She could smell the leather-bound volumes as they passed by. It reminded her of a happier time, when she was a little girl in her grandfather’s study, before the war, before the knowledge of herself.

When they reached the door, the woman attempted to put the key in the lock. Her hand shook even more than before. Hannah placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. The woman flinched.

“Here, let me help you.” She put her hand over the woman’s. “You look tired...By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

The woman looked up into her eyes. She could sense the trepidation behind them. Her lips quivered, trying to form the words. Finally, she managed to get them out. “My name is Amelia.”

“Why don’t you take a break? Go get some water and sit down for a while. I can manage on my own.”

Amelia looked around as though part of a conspiracy. “I’m not allowed another break for a few hours.”

She had heard rumors of the Nazis literally working people to death, but she had never really witnessed it first-hand. She wondered how long it had been since this woman had eaten.

“Is there a commissary here?”

Amelia nodded.

Hannah took off her security badge and handed it to her. “Here, I want you to go to the commissary and tell them you’ve been ordered to deliver lunch to Miss Klein in the archives. If they give you any trouble, tell them I’m working directly for Doctor Altman and he has given me free reign over this facility.”

She accepted the badge, but Hannah could tell she was confused and perhaps a little reluctant. She took Amelia’s wrist and gently rubbed the Star of David. She brought it to her lips and kissed it. There was a glimmer of recognition. A perceptible wave of relief washed over her.

“When you return, bring the food into the archive room. I may not be here when you get back, so I want you to find a secluded spot where you can eat in private.”

Amelia’s eyes were rimmed with tears. “God bless you.”

She nodded, then unlocked the door and put the key back in Amelia’s hand. “Go ahead. And remember to show them my badge.”

An abrupt squeaking noise startled Amelia. She turned quickly, nearly dropping the keys. Both women stood still, holding their breath, until the front of a book cart poked around the end of the shelves at the end of the row. Hannah heard Amelia sigh and saw her body relax.

“Sorry. It’s just Peter. He often comes by and helps me put books back on the shelves.”

Peter looked no older than ten or twelve. His tousled chestnut hair stuck out from beneath a cap that was a size too big. He grinned when he caught sight of Amelia, revealing a missing front tooth.

“Hello, Amelia. There weren’t very many books left out, so I almost got them all put away.” He pushed the squeaky cart to one side of the aisle, and walked up to meet the newcomer.

Amelia turned to Hannah. “Peter, this is Miss Klein. She will be doing some research in the archives. Why don’t you see if you can help her while I go downstairs.”

“Yes, Amelia.” He nodded and pushed his cap back on his head.

She watched Amelia walk back down the aisle. She started to follow her to make sure she made it down the stairs when Peter grabbed her hand.

“Are you Hannah?”

“How did you know my name?”

“Jacques told me to keep an eye out for you. Actually he told all of us, me and the other boys, to keep an eye out for you. He wants to meet with you.”

Her heart raced. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the archive room, her voice in a hushed whisper. “Have you heard from the Bishop?”

“No, Miss. I don’t go to the church much. Usually Jacob or Charles takes the food to the Bishop. I mostly run errands for Jacques and help Amelia when I can.”

“But Jacques must have met with the Bishop if he knew to look for me, so the Bishop must be alright.” Despite the obvious logic, she was still very worried about what had happened to the poor man after the SS had found her on his doorstep.

“I suppose, Miss. Can you come with me now to see Jacques?” He pulled on her hand.

She looked back down the aisle, wondering where Niklas was and whether or not her list was keeping him busy.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I know a back way out of the library.”

The tall shelves made her feel like a mouse in a maze. Peter led her through row after row until, at last, they stood in a large alcove. The room beyond held several rows of tables with odd-looking machines perched on them. A small stack of punch cards sat on the closest table. She picked one off the top and examined it. There was a row of abbreviations and below them the card had been punched out in several places. A swastika was embossed toward the upper middle of the card and the title underneath it read, census.“They’re census cards, Miss. The Nazis use them to keep track of the Jewish people.”

So that’s how they’ve been so successful at rounding up and corralling her people like cattle. Leave it to the Nazis to automate genocide. The anger that lived deep inside her began bubbling its way to the surface. She wanted nothing more than to throw each and every one of these vile machines to the floor. A gentle tug on her sleeve brought her back to her senses.

“Don’t worry. These Hollerith’s don’t work anyway. Me and the boys took out a few of the pieces.”

She chuckled, her anger subsiding. “Won’t they just repair them?”

“Probably, but it takes ’em a long time. Nobody here knows how. They have to get someone all the way from Berlin to come work on them.”

She put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re on our side, Peter.”

He smiled, and then pulled her forward. “Come on, Miss. We need to hurry.”

He led her around the tables of broken machines and stopped in front of a large window. He lifted the latch and pushed the two panes outward. He was over the threshold and standing on the fire escape in a matter of seconds.

He poked his head back in. “This way, Miss, don’t worry, they don’t use this side of the building much.”

When she was through, he closed the window and then motioned her to follow him down. Her boots clicked on the iron steps, each one making her tenser than the last. He stopped in front of her, peering cautiously into an open window. A moment later he waved her on. They continued down the next flight until they came to the end.

“We’ll have to jump down, Miss. It’s too hard to put the ladder back up from below.” He winked at her. “We don’t want ’em Nazis getting suspicious.”

He climbed over the edge, hung on with both hands, swung his feet out a little, and then dropped to the ground. He landed on his feet, then fell on his bottom, looking none the worse for wear. He stood and dusted himself off before motioning for her to jump. She wished she had put on her breeches this morning instead of her uniform skirt. Oh well, she thought, perhaps a brief peep show would be Peter’s reward for all of his hard work. She turned around and slid over the edge, her skirt slowly riding up until she managed to get her lower half over the railing. She kept a firm grip on the edge and slowly rocked her body back and forth. When she felt the time was right, she released and landed firmly on the ground. She stood, pressed her skirt back in place, and looked at Peter. His mouth was agape.

She smiled and shook his shoulder. “Hadn’t we best be getting along?”

A slight color rushed to his cheeks. He shook himself out of his reverie. “Oh, yes, Miss. This way.”

The back of the University looked to be a commons. Wrought iron benches sat at regular intervals along the tree-lined pathways that spiraled outward from a stone fountain. A carving of Venus in dark gray marble created the focal point of the fountain. There was no water flowing down from Venus or the strategically placed clamshells below her, but it was still a work of art worthy of admiration. It reminded her of what she was fighting for.

Just like most of the streets, the commons was also deserted. Apparently the Nazis are all work and no play.

“We need to run fast to the hedgerow along the street. Hopefully nobody will see us through the windows.”

She nodded. The boy took off like he’d been wound up tight. She followed, catching up with him quickly. They ran side by side down a graveled pathway, through a line of trees, out into an open area, back through another line of trees and out again, until finally reaching the hedgerow. He put up a hand and motioned for her to keep low. He pushed through a narrow opening in the hedge and paused.

“Alright, Miss. We need to run across the street and into the alley as fast as we can.”

Without hesitation, he pushed through the hedge and darted into the street. By the time she had wiggled her body through the hedge, Peter was already across. He stood in the alley waving his arms frantically. Then she heard the familiar sound of a Citroen’s engine. She froze, then pushed back into the hedge, hoping she was still hidden well enough. He pressed himself to the alley wall, as the engine grew louder.

A moment later a black Citroen rumbled past, two Nazi flags waving from its fenders. Had that been Henryk inside? He was the last person she wanted to run into. She hadn’t seen him since the night she had spoken with the Bishop. She assumed he was planning some kind of corrective training.

The Citroen turned a corner. She waited until its noisy growl faded from earshot. Peter waved her on from across the street. She pushed through the hedge and darted across without looking back.

“That was close, Miss. Good thing you’re such a fast runner.”

She took of his cap, tousled his hair even further, and then set the hat back askew on his head. “Good thing I have such a good guide.”

He straightened his cap and smiled at her, then led her down the alley. When they reached a rough door near the end, he knocked three times in quick succession, then three times more, and finally ended with two short knocks. The door opened just enough to reveal a wary eye.

A gravelly voice came from within. “Is this the one Jacques spoke of?”

Peter nodded.

“Very well,” said the man. He opened the door and ushered them into a tiny kitchen.

Once she was inside, the man shut the door, and then pushed her up against it.

“Sorry, Miss. Jacques doesn’t let outsiders in with weapons.”

“I understand.”

He patted her down. She tensed, but kept control of herself.

When he was done, he took a step back. “I am Gregory, but I’m of no importance. Jacques is the man you want.”

The stout man rubbed his palms on a dirty apron, then ran his fingers through a head of thick, dark hair. Despite his height, there was something about him that was commanding, forceful even. She could tell from his demeanor that he was a man of little nonsense. No doubt he was an invaluable asset to the Resistance. He uttered something to a slender young man washing dishes in the opposite corner of the little kitchen. They young man jumped to action, quickly gathering items from the pantry.

“Best to talk business over a meal. Let’s introduce you to Jacques while the kitchen puts some food together.”

Gregory guided them out of the narrow kitchen, through a curtained doorway and into a small dining area. There were several patrons who looked to be local. She detected the briefest note of panic on their faces when they saw her, but Gregory waved to them and they turned back to their conversations.

“This way.” Gregory held back another curtain as they passed through.

They were alone in a private dining area, occupied by a single table, surrounded by four ornate wooden chairs. The walls were a deep red crowned at the ceiling in gold filigree. A single, large painting of the battle of Waterloo stretched from floor to ceiling behind the table. The room was oddly over formal for such an establishment, but it was also strangely welcoming.

Gregory pulled the dining table away from the wall, slid a chair out of his way, and then pulled back on the thick gilded frame of the painting. He knocked with the same series of taps as Peter had upon their arrival. The door opened inward to reveal a dimly lit room with a small table at its center.

There were several men on the inside, but she knew instinctively which one was Jacques, and he wasn’t the one at the door. Jacques sat at the head of the table, papers spread out before him. He looked up and caught her gaze. His dark, black hair was pulled tightly back, framing a rugged yet gentle face. Even in the dim light, she could see his deep blue eyes sizing her up. His voice matched his features, rugged yet gentle.

“Please come in, Hannah.”

She nodded and then turned to Peter, leaning down to look him in the eyes. “I need you to go back to the library for me. If Niklas starts asking about me, try to stall him, make something up. Oh, and watch out for Amelia for me.” This time she winked at him.

He smiled, took off his cap and tried to straighten his hair as if presenting himself for duty. “Yes, Miss.”

She gave him a salute and watched him scurry off. Gregory helped her through the narrow opening into the hidden room. He closed the door behind her. She could hear him sliding the table and chairs back into place.

“Please have a seat. We have much to discuss.” Jacques’ cool eyes met hers.