Free Chasing Mona Lisa by Tricia Goyer; Mike Yorkey Page B

rescue us.”
    “At this point, who cares? This really could be it.” Rambouillet smiled at the women. His eyes narrowed into thin half-moons as his cheeks pressed upward. “I know. What can you believe? But this one makes sense to me. The Métro shut down an hour ago, so something major must be happening.”
    “Great news.” Anne clasped her hands together, a wide grin brightening her face. “Just to think, after all this time—”
    “No time to celebrate yet.” Colette tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “Until we see that swastika come down at the Hôtel Meurice, the Germans are still in charge.”
    “I agree.” Rambouillet strode back to his desk and pressed his hands on the surface. “Which means you must leave.”
    “Leave? But why?” Colette felt the weakening of her knees once again. To stand up to the German major was hard enough, but walking away was impossible.
    “You know how it is with informants these days,” Rambouillet stated. “Someone could have called the Germans and told them about today’s incident in the courtyard. The boches pay good money for information like that. Whom can you trust?”
    He glanced to his window. “I don’t think we should take any chances. It’s more dangerous for all of us—and for the art—if you remain here. You need to leave now.”
    Colette reacted with mixed feelings. On one hand, it was the best plan for her personal safety, but then again, it was her job to be here. She didn’t want to leave the Louvre at this momentous time in history.
    “You said the Métro stopped running. I’d have to walk, and who knows how safe the streets are.” Colette hoped that sounded like a good enough excuse for her to stay.
    “That’s why I’m authorizing Anne to go with you. We can’t take the chance of a German staff car pulling up to the front door looking for a missing major. I’m requesting this for your safety as well as ours.”
    Colette realized that she couldn’t put her colleagues at risk. She looked at Anne, who nodded. “I’ll go get my things.”
    Five minutes later, Colette and Anne stepped outside the Louvre’s front entrance. The courtyard was deserted. The museum had been officially closed all week because of the wartime uncertainty.
    Colette scanned the horizon, marred by a thin film of smoke. She noticed a piece of white paper, burned black around the edges, floating to the ground. Looking skyward, a light rain of ash fell from the hazy sky.
    “My place?” Colette asked.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re more than a ninety-minute walk away. Same as me. I doubt we’ll find anyone to give us a ride on the Rue de Rivoli. It’s like everyone has disappeared.”
    Colette’s face brightened. “My mother lives off the Rue de Madrid in the 8th arrondissement. No more than forty-five minutes on foot. But we’d have to walk in the vicinity of the Hôtel Meurice.” She bit her lip, knowing they’d pass by the heart of the German command. “I don’t think anyone will bother us if we stay in the Tuileries Gardens.”
    “Good idea. And we wouldn’t know what we’d run into if we took a detour.”
    The two women departed the Louvre courtyard, linked arm in arm, in the direction of Napoleon’s Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel. They passed by the monument and continued along the gravel pathways into the Tuileries Gardens, staying on the left side of the park, parallel the Seine.
    Barely a ripple moved across the river’s emerald-colored surface. Barges, flat-bottomed boats, and Bateaux Mouches—the famous open-air tourist boats that roamed the Seine—were cinched tight to their moorings. The dozens of love-struck couples who normally lingered along the banks were absent.
    Anne followed her gaze toward the empty stone embankments. “You miss him, don’t you?”
    “How did you—?” Then again, Anne knew she and Bernard often sought solitude along the Seine during long lunch breaks.
    “I haven’t seen Bernard all