Free The Siren of Paris by David Leroy

money now left in his bank account. He would need to get a loan.
    “Do you want a ticket, sir?” the agent asked. David just walked away without answering. He walked back to the Opera Metro station, and stood on the platform in disgust. The train came, the passengers boarded, and the train left with David standing on the platform. He climbed the stairs back to the street and made his way toward the Place de la Concorde and the American Embassy.
    “They would never fire on the Italians,” David said over and over again to Marc. His eyes appeared to be looking past Marc, to someone behind him. He spoke quickly, with a tremble in his voice. “Is there any way that I could get a travel loan through—” He paused. “I know they would never fire on the Italians,” he repeated softer, and he appeared like a child.
    “I tried to get a ticket, but the rates are too high,” David added.
    “What was the date of their ship?” Marc asked.
    “May 28. Not sure which ship. I think the
Rex
,” David said. Marc could tell by David’s behavior that he would starve himself and likely sleep on the streets to take this ship.
    Marc took out his wallet and looked, then told the secretary he needed to run an errand. He walked to the bank and took out the money for David to get a ticket on the
Rex
. “You owe me nothing. Just try and slam some sense into the other two.” Outside the bank, David broke down in tears and then ran back to the Italian Line offices on Rue Auber.
    Sunday came again, and Marc welcomed the break for dinner with the gang, but missed the jovial conversations of the past.
    “Marc, those ships are floating targets. They have huge American flags on them, and they are stopping them at Gibraltar for hours. Sometimes even a few days,” Nigel said, dismissing him outright about taking David’s slot in July. “Don’t you think the British would like it if America would join the war? It does not have to be a German torpedo. Any torpedo could do it under the right circumstances.”
    “I think you are …” Then Marc stopped. He had tried to keep this thought from his mind over the months as he directed Americans to Genoa or Lisbon. He knew there were risks, but did not take seriously that a ship would be fired upon.
    “When are you leaving?” Dora asked David.
    “Well, the ship leaves on the twenty-eighth, but I want to get down there sooner than that, so I am thinking of leaving May 15.” Marc did not know why, but the simple fact of having a ticket gave David a complete new sense of peace.
    “And what about you?” Dora looked toward Nigel.
    “I still have business with the bank. If things turn, they have assured me they will make the arrangements,” Nigel responded, shrugging his shoulders.
    “I see. I heard you had a nice time with the LeRoy family,” Dora pressed.
    “I did not realize you knew them. Are they …”
    “Yes.”
    “You mean the family involved with bauxite and aluminum production? Are you sure?”
    “You have been a very busy boy running all about France for your bank,” Dora said, toasting her wine glass.
    “Dora, I think you know why, and I am impressed. Next time I will clear my appointments with you.” Nigel smiled.
    “They are very nice. I hope she is not wearing that silly perfume, Chypre, anymore. I got her some Shalimar last time I visited.”
    “I believe that was her scent at dinner,” Nigel stared back into Dora’s eyes.
    Marc began to feel a greater sense of disconnection with everyone around him. “This is not going to last forever, you know,” Marc said.
    “Dinner?” Dora asked.
    “No, this false peace. Soon, there will be no need to argue,” Marc said, and no one replied.
    Marc took Marie’s hand from across the table during dinner that same week.
    “But I do love you,” Marc pleaded with Marie.
    “I know, but Marc, it is not right. We cannot do this just so I can leave with you. What about my family? What about my life?”
    “Marie, they could come