Shadows of the World » Band of Brothers

07: A Woman Like That

"I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind."
- Anne Sexton, Her Kind

-

The Grand Staircase of the Paris Opera House was truly resplendent. Juliette had only ever heard of it from the glowing words of her father, who spoke of France and of Paris with more fondness than he had ever used to speak of her. She often wondered whether he had regretted moving their small family from France when she was eleven years old; she seemed to remember that being around the time it had all gone wrong.

Regardless, of all the things her father had gotten wrong, his detailed and awestruck descriptions of the Opera House had been entirely right, if perhaps even slightly modest.

The great bustling of activity was jarring with all she knew of and had experienced during her time in Paris, what with the strict Nazi curfew of 9pm whereupon the city went dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop and it would sound deafening. Of course, what was Nazi implemented could also be tweaked for the benefit of the Nazis, too, so for this glistening event those invited and those invited alone were permitted and even encouraged to stay as long as they pleased, well into the night.

It was 2133 when she arrived, having gotten through the remarkable security in six minutes, and she knew she had twelve minutes before she could expect to see the courier she was targeting, Wilhelm Herbst, entering the Grand Foyer. Despite how much she longed to linger in the entrance hall and take in its grandeur, she had a job to do, and she had to time it perfectly to ensure she ended up in exactly the right place that she would be one of the lucky people Wilhelm engaged in small talk.

Making her way up the Grand Staircase she stuck to the left side, trailing her hand along the gold plated banister if only to be able to say that she'd done it. Her touch was feather light, afraid to corrupt its luxurious beauty, and as she gently pinched the material of her long dress up by her thigh in order to prevent tripping she hoped she appeared more demure and innocent than she felt as she ascended the large stairs.

The stairs split off to the left and right once she reached the top and she knew it was the left hand side she was to choose in order to make her way into the Grand Foyer, where both her target and his contact were due to meet. Crossing the short distance to the left staircase, having to head for the banister farther away from her on account of the lingering guests, just as she began to walk up the stairs a hand reached for her unoccupied wrist and grasped it.

"Mademoiselle," the voice spoke through a heavy German accent, and she turned to find a highly decorated Nazi smiling down at her. She smiled demurely back, glancing down in what was certain to appear as shyness but was actually her scanning his uniform in order to work out what she was dealing with. He was an Oberführer she realised quickly, which was very high up and thus very irritating. She would never be able to brush him off and get away with it, which meant her tight schedule was in grave danger.

"I am sure we have not met," he spoke in heavily accented French, and she looked back up at him with a smile brighter than she knew he would have expected and wanted to see; she needed to lose his interest, but the game was tricky. She couldn't make herself so unappealing as to draw suspicion as to why, but she also couldn't maintain the soft, polite act she had been going for, for men in positions of power did so love to dominate the vulnerable. It was a balancing act, though more than just a pair of plates were at risk of crashing down if she failed.