Shadows of the World » Band of Brothers

09: One Masked Ball

"In Paris, our lives are one masked ball." - Gaston Leroux, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra

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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."