Page 30 of The Secret Librarian

Chapter Fifteen

Camille

Camille kept her eyes shut and her breathing even as Kiefer got out of bed, wanting him to believe she was still asleep.

She listened as he stretched and padded across the room into the adjoining bathroom, knowing that she was going to have to time it perfectly to look through his things before he came back.

She had the distinct feeling that she was running out of time.

That if she didn’t find something soon, she’d lose her chance, especially with Lourenco Santos breathing down her neck at every turn.

It also felt like something bigger now; that it was about more than just Hugo.

She didn’t want anyone else to be betrayed like she and Hugo had been, and the only thing she despised more than the enemy was a traitor.

When she heard the door click shut, she pushed the covers back and rose, tiptoeing across the room and hovering beside his things.

He always took his clothes off and placed them in a specific order, and she looked carefully over everything to make sure she could put it all back in its place once she’d finished.

First she checked his jacket, keeping one ear on the bathroom to make certain she could hear him.

The water was running, but she knew how easily he could deceive her if he suspected what she was doing.

She pushed her hand into each pocket, but all she found was an engraved metal case, and a quick glance inside showed a few cigarettes and nothing more.

She closed the case and slipped it back inside his jacket, pausing to listen and glance up again before reaching for his trousers.

Bingo.

She pulled out a photograph, and a piece of paper that was folded down into quarters.

The room was dark, and she took a risk in dashing to the window and pulling back the heavy velvet drape to see what she was in possession of.

If he came out of the bathroom now, she’d have to hide what she had until she could get them back in his trousers, and she knew that would prove almost impossible.

The photograph was of a woman and a very young girl, both blonde with bright smiles, staring straight into the camera. She cringed, knowing that it was probably his wife, despite the fact he’d insisted when they met that he wasn’t married. She moved on to the note.

It was a letter, and as she slowly read the words in German, she realised that this too was a personal item, not the incriminating evidence she’d hoped for.

‘Did you find what you were looking for?’

Camille froze. Her pulse ignited as she looked up to find Kiefer standing in the doorway to the bathroom; like a wolf that had found an intruder in its lair.

‘Kiefer, I can explain ...’ she began, quickly glancing around the room and trying to find something, anything, that she could use as a weapon.

Kiefer was dressed only in a towel, which was wrapped around his waist, and he came towards her, slowly, one hand raised.

She stayed silent and took a few steps backwards, but he simply sat down on the bed and gestured for her to pass him what was in her hand.

Camille hesitantly shuffled forward, dropping the photograph and letter to the bed between them, without getting close enough for him to grab hold of her.

His expression was impossible to decipher.

‘Is this what you expected to find when you rifled through my pockets?’ he asked.

Camille blinked. He’d caught her red-handed, but she wasn’t going down that easily.

‘I heard a rumour you were married,’ she said. ‘So yes, I suppose I did find what I expected.’

‘Ahh, I see. And here I was thinking you were looking for something more sinister,’ he said, as if he didn’t believe her for an instant.

‘More sinister?’ she repeated, with a laugh that she hoped was convincing. ‘You thought perhaps I was working for the Allies to uncover your secrets?’

Camille pursed her lips when he shrugged, trying to read him.

‘I’m just a woman who wants her man to herself.’

His gaze narrowed and it was clear that, in that moment, he trusted her as much as she trusted him.

‘That is my wife, Mathilde, and my daughter, Elke, in the photograph. I know you’re thinking the worst of me, but I love them both very much. I would never have been with another woman if I was still in Berlin, if that means anything.’

Camille carefully edged her way across the room and sat in the chair opposite Kiefer.

She was nervous about how calm he was; he was either more relaxed than she could have imagined, or it was the calm before the storm.

She kept her eyes fixed on him, almost too scared to blink, waiting for him to lash out at her for going through his personal effects. But he didn’t.

‘You don’t have to be scared of me, Camille, I’m not going to hurt you. My secret is that I’m a married man, it’s not as if I’m the first man to pretend he didn’t have a wife to lure a beautiful woman to his bed.’

She wanted to tell him that he was also a Nazi, which was something she feared very much in itself, but she kept her mouth shut. She had no interest in antagonising him, given her precarious situation.

‘I feared you wouldn’t be interested in me if you knew about them, and I’ve been away for so long that ...’ His voice trailed off.

‘You wanted someone to warm your bed at night,’ she finished for him. ‘Is that it?’

‘More than that, I needed the company. It’s been a long time alone for someone who’s used to the warmth of a woman.’

Camille softened, but only a little. Just because she hadn’t found anything sinister in his pockets didn’t mean he wasn’t who she thought he might be. There was every chance that Kiefer knew precisely what and who she was looking for and was playing a very clever game.

‘But I’m not the only one keeping a secret, Camille, am I?’

She swallowed, considering her words. Her heart began to race again. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Camille, I’m leaving at the end of next week. I’m being sent back to Berlin, so there’s no need for us to keep playing this game. You answer my question and I’ll let you ask me one. Fair?’

‘Alright then,’ Camille said, steadying herself in an effort to appear calm, her palms clasped. ‘What is it you think you know about me?’

‘Well, I know that you’re helping French Jewish refugees and that you’re under suspicion of producing false documentation for them.

’ His smile was hard to read. ‘Perhaps you’re here on false documentation too, but I’m prepared to turn a blind eye to that, given our relationship. It seems only fair.’

She tried not to react outwardly, but inside her heart was pounding. Kiefer had the power to send her to jail, to invalidate the visas of handfuls of families waiting in Rossio Square, and she would never forgive herself if he did that.

‘You’ve followed me?’

‘It’s what I do,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I knew who you were before I invited you to my bed. I’m embarrassed that you thought anything less of me.’

‘Well,’ she said, trying to appear confident rather than the scared little rabbit she was inside. ‘It seems that we’ve both been rather busy investigating each other.’ She sighed. ‘So, what are you going to do?’

‘With you?’ He laughed. ‘Camille, I only have a week left here, I’m not going to do anything. If anything, I admire you.’

‘ You admire me ?’ She almost choked on the words.

‘Standing up for what you believe in isn’t easy. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t grow up knowing Jewish families who look like the people out there in the streets.’

‘That’s why you never turned me in?’ she asked. ‘You’ll have me believe that you’re sympathetic to those you’re accusing me of helping?’

‘Those Jews are already here.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps it eased my conscience knowing that you were helping a handful of them, or perhaps I just liked you and didn’t want to give you up. But what you’re doing has to end.’

She let what he was saying settle, surprised at how calm he was. She also didn’t correct his statement that she was only helping a handful. She’d doctored more papers than she could count since she’d arrived in Lisbon.

‘Why then does what you’re accusing me of have to end, if you care so little?’

He leaned forward. ‘Because I’ve been given a promotion, and it’s now my job to make sure no one uses false visas as a way of fleeing their fate. There will be no more Jews allowed entry to Lisbon, and if anyone is caught creating false documents, they will be shot.’

Camille held her composure, but only just. She didn’t doubt the severity of Kiefer’s words. ‘You’re working with the PVDE?’

‘There’s a reason they haven’t arrested you yet, Camille. But there are no more favours, not when it comes to the documentation. It’s my neck on the line now, and I need to ensure a positive reception when I arrive back in Berlin next week. I’ll be telling them I found the rat I was searching for.’

She fought to breathe, her chest feeling constricted. ‘Someone else will take the fall for this? If you protect me, you’ll blame another?’

He stroked his chin. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps your little American friend could be the one?’

‘No,’ she said, too quickly, showing him how much Avery meant to her. ‘No, not her. If someone needs to go down for this, it will be me.’

‘Perhaps I can find another way. If you promise me that your little game is over, of course.’

Camille thought of the words she’d whispered the night she’d taken Avery to the square with her, the families that still needed her help. She’d only helped French families until now, but the two of them had vowed to help as many refugees as they could, wherever they came from in Europe.