God's Formula by James LePore & Carlos Davis

Author:James LePore & Carlos Davis [LePore, James & Davis, Carlos]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Maraya21, Crime
ISBN: 9781611881745
Google: PJ76oAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1611881749
Publisher: The Story Plant
Published: 2014-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Paris, June 13, 1940, Noon

John Tolkien sat alone in the last row right of the Cinema George V on Champs Elysee, watching the credits roll for All This, and Heaven Too. The boy in the blue shirt had pointed to a seat and disappeared. Except for a couple passionately kissing near the front, the theater was empty—dark and empty. Why it was open for business, with the Werhmacht encircling a ghost-like Paris, the professor could not guess. Perhaps its owner knew the man who would be meeting him—was doing his bit to thwart the Germans. Vive La Resistance. On the screen, Bette Davis and Charles Boyer had given way to secondary characters, their names in much smaller sized print, not unlike the way research assistants were credited in articles written by highly regarded professors. The Phamous PhD’s, Tolkien called them, when thinking about his meager scholarly output, which decidedly did not include The Hobbit. Oh, well…the sudden but very quiet movement of a person taking the seat next to him brought an abrupt end to these musings.

“Professor Tolkien,” the man said.

“Yes.”

“The boys have left.”

Silence, except for the opening scene of the movie—teenage school girls in pinafore dresses being introduced one by one to their new French teacher, the prim and proper and sad-looking Mademoiselle Desportes.

“Who are you?” Tolkien asked. He stole a glance at the man, who was older than he expected, perhaps fifty, and who was large—he barely fit into the theater’s cushioned seat—and who wore a rough beard.

“I am a friend of Father LaToure. You have no choice but to trust me, Monsieur Tolkien.”

“Where are they? The boys?”

“We had to get them away. The people in the neighborhood saw the Friedeman boy on the street ranting in German. They were asking questions. The Germans will be here tomorrow. We could not take the chance of someone talking to them.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Dentz has sent a deputation to St. Denis to negotiate the surrender of the city. There will be tanks and German soldiers marching on the Place de la Concord by seven tomorrow morning.”

“Dentz?”

“The military commander of Paris.”

“We would have taken them.”

“We only confirmed your mission this morning.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yes, and worse. You must leave Paris. If you are caught, you will be hung.”

“What about you, whoever you are?”

“I am a national rail conductor. I will stay and work. The trains must run. Perhaps I will blow up one or two before it is over.”

“Tell me where the boys are.”

“They have been taken south.”

“Where, exactly.”

“Foix, near the Spanish border. They were entrusted to an elderly couple, originally from Foix, Jean and Paulette Foret.”

“Who are they?”

“They lost two sons in the fighting at the river Meuse. Rommel. They are going to join a resistance group in Foix.”

Silence. On the screen, Mademoiselle Desportes, on the verge of tears, was rushing out of the classroom.

“Is there really a French resistance?”

“We will see. So far it consists of various groups of misfits.”

“How will I find the boys in Foix?”

“If you insist on trying, go to the Chapel of Notre Dame de Montgauzy.

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