Page 10 of Hearts of Resistance
She smiled. ‘When I lived abroad in Paris,’ she replied in the same language.
‘Who did you live with there?’ he asked, in English this time.
She took his lead, answering in her native tongue. ‘I lived with a family. The daughter, Rose, was a close friend of mine when they lived in London, and when her family returned to Paris my parents arranged for me to go with them to broaden my language skills.’
‘Who is this Rose?’ he asked, switching languages again.
Hazel replied immediately in French. ‘She is from a nice family, and I had the most wonderful time there. She married a businessman who unfortunately passed away recently.’
‘Do you know anything about her husband?’
‘Nothing that I imagine would interest you.’
Smith chuckled. ‘You’d be surprised. Were you aware that he was affiliated with the Resistance? That he was a passionate supporter of this underground movement?’
Hazel considered his question. ‘No, I was not aware. But it doesn’t surprise me. He was a very wealthy man, but he was also very cultured and had a strong sense of humanity. I attended their wedding and I very much approved of Rose’s choice of husband.’
‘Do you feel that you know Paris well?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘How well do you know other parts of France?’
She gulped, not used to answering such intense, rapid-fire questions. ‘Well, I know Paris very well, as well as I know London in fact. And yes,’ Hazel said, trying to stay calm and answer the questions without racing, ‘I did explore other parts of France. Rose and her husband had a beautiful home on the coast, near Brest, and I was fortunate enough to have an extended holiday there with them after they were married.’
‘What would you do if a Nazi was running towards you?’ he asked in English.
‘Do I have a gun in this hypothetical situation?’ she asked back.
He smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s a simple answer. I’d shoot him,’ Hazel said bluntly. ‘Make no mistake, I hate the Nazis with all my heart, and as unskilled as I might be in the field, I’d do my best to shoot him dead.’ She was pleased not to hear a quiver in her voice, because the truth was that she’d hate to be put in a situation that required her to take another person’s life, Nazi or not.
Smith stood and walked around the room, no longer looking at her. He kept firing questions at her, tirelessly over and over, as if he had a hundred things ready to ask her. He was relentless. When he stopped pacing and stared at her, she took a deep breath and waited.
‘And what would you do if I asked you to leave here with me and disappear tonight? Would you come with me?’ His gaze was cold.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I don’t know who you are. All I know is that you’re asking me all sorts of questions, that I have no idea who you work for or what you do, and I still don’t know what role I’m auditioning for, or if one even exists.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Maybe my sources were right about you.’
She had no idea whatsourceshe could be talking about. She sat still, staring at him, pretending to be more confident than she was.
‘Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if I need to be.’
He crossed the room and opened the door, beckoning for her to walk out. Hazel stood and tried to walk as slowly as she could, head held high. She had no idea if the interview had been a dismal failure or if she was still in with a chance, so she stopped and looked him directly in the eye.
‘Goodbye, Hazel.’
He smiled and shut the door behind her, leaving her alone outside the room. She breathed a sigh of relief, realising how long she must have been holding her breath. There was a clock in the lobby, and when she passed it she saw she’d been in the room for at least forty minutes.
She could only hope that this elusive Smith, whoever he was, had liked what she’d said. Because she had a feeling this was the kind of job you got only one chance of securing, and either she’d blown it or managed to impress the person deciding her fate.
CHAPTER THREE
ROSE
BREST, FRANCE
