The next day saw them following the highway's turn west toward the city. They entered from the north and approached the central portion on the Rue de la Chapelle.
"Well, Paris was the next stop on my tour anyway," Bill joked, hoping to ease the tension.
"Indeed."
"Hey, lighten up. Paris in the springtime and all that."
Sorry. I'm just . . . nervous." She looked out the window at nothing special. "It's been a long time and so much has changed."
"Cities change. Fort Wayne used to be--"
"Not that. Situation. People. Attitudes. Turn left here."
Bill executed the turn with some difficulty because of his arm. He had insisted on driving because he thought it looked more natural with a man driving. Molly had called him a chauvinist and taken the passenger side.
"Now right here."
Another turn and they moved south on the Boulevard de Strasbourg. Molly pointed out some tourist landmarks along the way. When they came to the bridge over the Seine, Bill decided he really was in Paris.
"Over there to your left, on the island, is the Cathedral of--I say, it's not there!" She leaned her head out the window. "We should be able to see Notre Dame clearly, but I can't see it." She drew back into the car. "At any rate, there to your right is the Palais de Justice. And there's a crowd about it. I wonder why?"
"Want to check it out?"
"Perhaps we should. It might help us discover the disposition of the city toward people like us."
"Where can we park?"
"Over there."
Bill slid the car into a parking space and they crossed the street to mingle with the crowd. As they moved through the wall of people the scene in the courtyard of the Palais became clearer and clearer.
It wasn't a pretty sight. Seven people, two of them women, Bill judged, stood tied to stakes set laterally across the courtyard. Seven knots of soldiers stood before the stakes with rifles in hand. Behind them, in the center of the open space stood a low gallows with a man on it, the rope already around his neck. The faces were too far away to make out any features, but none of the bodies showed the marks of fear. None of the condemned wore blindfolds.
A man in a three-piece suit stepped to a portable microphone off to one side and began to read in French over the poor-quality PA system. As he read Bill whispered to Molly, "What's he saying?"
Molly stared at the prisoners. Her face had bleached white.
Bill nudged her with his elbow. "What's he saying?"
She blinked hard. "I'm sorry. He says that these people are traitors to the nation and to mankind. Bill, they're Christians. That's their act of treason. The man on the gallows is their pastor."
An officer barked a command as the man in the suit concluded the order of execution. The soldiers snapped to attention. Bill didn't need to know French to understand the next three words.
The crisp words, then a sound like thunder. Seven chests exploded. Seven heads fell forward. A man in white with a stethoscope stepped to each victim in turn, to make sure. The man on the gallows looked away. He appeared to cry. Bill felt sick. It was true. They were executing Christians for being Christians. Neither he nor Molly moved.
The man in the three-piece suit stepped onto the gallows. As he put his hand on the release lever he shouted something without the aid of the PA, which had about the same effect as when he used it. Bill nudged Molly.
"He says that, now that this--infidel-- that he has seen those he led into evil pay for the folly of listening to him, the State will now be merciful and end his miserable life."
"Cruelty then kindness, huh?"
The man in the noose was speaking now. Molly gaped in fascination. Bill bumped her again.
"He's saying that all those executed will outlive their murderers. He's giving a testimony to eternal life in Christ. He's speaking so quickly I can't make out all of it. But he seems to be saying that the State has merely killed bodies, not souls. But those who embrace the State's policies will never see eternal life. Oh, Bill, listen to that!"
The man was singing. Bill didn't recognize the words, but the tune of "How Great Thou Art" filled the cramped air of the Palais. The man in the suit appeared furious. Even from the distance between them, Bill could see him trembling. His hands snapped the lever forward and the singing stopped.
Bill grabbed Molly by the shoulders and twisted her toward him with the warning, "Don't look."
As he kept her turned from the grisly scene he took one more glance at the man in the three-piece suit. The man gestured toward the still-kicking body and announced, "C'est finis!" Ironic, Bill thought. Jesus' own words. " It is finished.' A deafening cheer rose from the crowd as Bill and Molly made their way back toward the car.
Bill stood unlocking the doors when a voice hailed them. A man in a police uniform trotted across the street, calling to them. "Madame! Monsieur! S'il vous plait!" He stood by Bill, chattering in French.
"No speakie. Do you speak English?"
"Ah, you are an American, Monsieur?"
"I used to be. When there was an America."
"As you wish, Monsieur. And you, Madame?"
"British. Might I inquire what we may do for you, sir?"
"You left before the closing ceremonies. I must know for what reason."
Bill answered, "We just rolled into town. We didn't know there was a party going on. We saw the crowd and got curious. Didn't know there was a closing ceremony. Sorry. We're new in town."
"May I see your passports, please?"
Molly dug hers out of her purse while Bill drew his from his hip pocket. "Here you go. Just don't tell me mine's no good because the country doesn't exist."
"Certainly not, Monsieur. Who would be so cruel?"
Bill decided not to comment on the cruelty he had just witnessed. "It's been said here and there."
"Someone in France said this to you?"
"Yeah. Then laughed. Everybody's a comedian."
"My apologies for such a one, Monsieur. I must ask your destination. Also, why the two of you travel together."
"Bill is my nephew. He was visiting me in London when the war occurred. I'm helping him find a new home, since London seems to have certain, shall we say, hostilities toward Americans."
"And your destination?"
Bill cut Molly off. "I have a cousin in Hamburg. We're going there to see if he'll take me in. Like Aunt Molly said, London's getting hazardous to Americans' health. We heard Germany's better. Aunt Molly came along to make sure I don't get lost on the way."
"I see. And your cousin's name is?"
"Hans Franzen."
"C'est bon. It is well. You may go."
They drove away, Bill still at the wheel. Molly glared at him. "Hamburg? And of all the names you could have invented, Hans Franzen?"
"First thing that came to my mind. Couldn't tell you why. But it worked."
"I know, but Hans Franzen?? Now you'd better pray he isn't a fan of old American episodes of 'Saturday Night Live.'" She laughed so hard she shook the car. Bill joined her.
"We should have asked where's a good place to get gas and food. We need both."
"I know a few places. Turn left here, please."
"Please?"
"I want to see something."
"Okay."
He followed her directions. Soon they paralleled the river on the south side of the island. Molly pointed. "There. That's where Notre Dame should be."
They saw a dishearteningly large pile of stone rubble. "Looks like they blew it up."
"The fools. It was such a magnificent structure. it was--"
"It was a monument to the religion that started the war." Bill looked her in the eye. "I think we ought to get out of this town ASAP."
"I agree. Turn right and we'll find a petrol stop."
Bill pumped gas while Molly went to freshen up. The price was in Francs per litre, so Bill couldn't tell whether he was paying a good price or not. But at the moment he didn't really care. He just wanted to get out of Paris. He paid the bill in pounds, which only confused him more. The bored teenage blonde behind the counter consulted an exchange table, punched a calculator a few times and gave him a handful of change (she didn't count it out) with a very curt "Merci." Bill decided that at least one good thing would come out of the unification of Europe: everybody would use the same money, and maybe then he could figure out what was going on and who was ripping him off. For the time being he assumed everybody was.
Molly returned to the car and claimed the driver's seat. "Your arm hurts. I'll drive."
"How can you tell my arm hurts?"
"You cringe every time you move it."
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean it hurts." He grinned over the pain and handed her the keys. "But, then, why shouldnt I let a lovely lady chauffeur me around?"
She grinned back. "In the absence of one, will I suffice?"
He didn't answer, but placed himself in the left seat. As Molly started forward a police car but them off. Both cars squealed to a stop. Bill snapped forward and a sword of pain zipped through his bad arm.
The policeman stood at Molly's window almost at once. Molly thumped his middle with the door as she stormed out of the car, babbling in French. The gendarme babbled back and in a few seconds they were shouting at each other, still in French.
Bill got out and whistled as loudly as he could. The twin streams of French stopped. "Would somebody care to tell me what's going on here?"
The officer, who was at least as tall and muscular as Bill, bowed politely. "Your pardon, Monsieur. We have been following you since your conversation with the gendarme at the Palais."
Bill folded his arms across his chest and tried not to show the pain. He hoped he looked indignant as he said, "Why?"
"Two reasons, Monsieur. Your license plate, it is expired. And your cousin, Hans Franzen. Hamburg reports that there is no such person in that city."
"Yeah, well, he doesn't live right in Hamburg. Some little town right by it. I can't pronounce the name without spitting all over myself."
"We will, how you say, investigate that. But the plates are another matter, Monsieur."
"I couldn't tell you about that. The guy we bought the car from said the license was good through next month."
"I see. And the man's name was?"
"Couldn't tell you. He said it so fast I couldn't catch it. No speak, and all that."
"I see. Madame, did you hear the man's name?"
"No, I didn't," Molly Answered. "Bill insisted on doing the haggling. He's a chauvinist, you know."
The officer's rugged face appeared impatient. "Madame. Monsieur. It will go much more well for you if you tell me the truth. You, Monsieur, have no cousin in Hamburg. If you were going to Germany your route should have taken you far to the north of Paris. Now, why do you not tell me the full truth?"
Bill shrugged. "All right. We had to get out of England because they don't like Americans there. When we came down the highway we ran into a bunch of roadblocks and got all turned around. I figured since we were on the road to Paris anyway I'd like to see it. I was on a European tour when my return trip got cancelled. We're headed for Switzerland because we heard things are better for Americans there. That's the story."
" I see." The gendarme studied Bill for a moment. "Why did you lie?"
"We weren't sure but what things were as bad here as they are in England. That's also why we switched plates. Try to throw off as many hostile eyes from our track as we could, you know?"
"I see. Step over here please, Monsieur." He made his way to the gas pump. He put his right index finger on top of the pump, disturbing the light film of dust on the chromed surface. "By what path did you intend to travel to Switzerland? This way?" He drew a small arc in the dust like a wide arch.
Bill stared, his mouth hanging open, first at the line on the pump, then at the man's face. The officer nodded knowingly.
Bill positioned his finger. "No, it was more this way." He drew an arc underneath the first one, intersecting the two and overlapping them at one end. Together they formed a crude image of a fish.
"I see. Very well, Monsieur." He wiped the dust with its evidence off the surface of the pump. "You may find it difficult to leave the city for a day or two. I must file my report. I assume that, in the event I need more information from you, I will find you at number six, Rue de Chacon, tonight around eight o'clock?"
It took Bill a second to catch on. "Oh. Yeah. That's where you can find us. If you need more information."
The policeman whipped himself to attention with a light click of his heels. "Very good, Monsieur. Madame." He bowed to Molly. "Enjoy your stay in Paris. Adieu." He hopped in his car and drove away.
Bill looked at Molly. She shrugged. They got back in the car and melded with the traffic. Molly asked, "What was that all about?"
Bill leaned back, rubbing his arm. "He's one of us. Remember how ancient Christians identified themselves by drawing a fish in the dirt?"
"That's what he did?"
"Yeah. He also said we couldn't get out of town at the moment. Meet him tonight at the Rue de Chacon, number six. Know where it is?"
"No, I don't. Do you?''
"You're asking me? I can just barely say it."
"We'll get a map. What time are we to meet him?"
"Eight." Bill checked his watch. "Where can we hang out for seven hours?"
"Would you like to see the Eiffel Tower?"
"Sure. Sounds like fun."
For the first time since he was preparing to fly out of London, Bill felt like a tourist again. He soaked up all the sights, including the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe. They took a walk in the park by the Eiffel Tower and ate lunch at a French McDonald's. From there, Molly took him to several museums and libraries until they all closed.
At six they consulted the city map they had bought to find Rue de Chacon. Bill was saying, "We need a strategy to be sure we're not walking into a trap."
"I agree. Perhaps we can establish surveillance on the place and see who enters before we reveal ourselves."
"Why do we sound like the FBI or something?"
"Unfortunately, we must. If we ever hope to reestablish any sense of normalcy to our lives we've got to be careful."
Bill slumped down in the vinyl bucket. "I feel like I'm glued to this seat. By the way, when we get to Switzerland, then what?"
"I don't know. Try to establish a life there, I suppose."
Bill didn't want to pursue the obvious question: life together or separately? "How's our money holding out?"
"Not as well as I had hoped. Diverting to Paris is costing us more than we had anticipated."
"Well, if all else fails we can rob a bank somewhere."
He laughed at her shocked expression. "Just kidding, just kidding. But I'm sure I can find a little work at farms along the way or something."
"Don't do that to me!"
"Sorry. "
She sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I know you were only trying to lift my spirits. I'm not in a very good humor, I'm afraid."
Bill reached over and stroked her arm. "Hey, it's all right. It was a bad joke. Now, why don't we go set up so we can watch who goes into that place? It's better than sitting here stewing."
"An excellent idea." She moved the shift lever and drove off.
They watched the red door with the big number six for over an hour. It led into what appeared to be an old apartment building that faced one of Paris' narrow back streets. Bill wondered if neighbors on either side of the street could reach out their windows and touch each other.
At about a quarter to eight, when the street was draped in a thick darkness due to lack of streetlights and the natural light-blocking effects of the dense clustering of buildings, people began to arrive in groups of two or three.
"There he is!" Even in the darkness, broken only by the light that escaped when the door opened, neither could mistake the policeman's great bulk. A young woman stood beside him, and she appeared to be carrying a package. Bill and Molly exchanged worried glances. Bill said, "Well, I guess this is it."
"I suppose so."
He wanted to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. He surveyed her eyes, her face, her gentle hands--he couldn't say it. Instead he whispered, "Let's go."
They stepped out of the small gap between buildings where they had hid and moved carefully toward the dark portal. A famous line from Dante's Inferno flashed through Bill's mind and he fought it down. The door loomed ahead.
Now they stood before it. The door appeared gray in the darkness, the big white six a lesser shade of gray. Molly held Bill's left arm with both hands. Her hands shook, which tickled his arm. With his feet crying out to run away, Bill reached out his right hand and knocked twice on the door.
A small wicket-type hatch opened and a voice said, "Oui?"
Bill cleared his throat. "Uh, we were told to be here tonight."
"I see. Who gave you this order, Monsieur?"
"A big guy. Broad shoulders, good looking guy, about my size. Told us to be here at eight."
"You do not know the gentleman's name, Monsieur?"
"No. At the time he was in a gendarme's uniform."
"Ah, then you are the police. Go away, Monsieur."
"No no no no, we're not the police. He was. At least I think he was. But I'm sure he said to meet him here."
"Indeed? What did he say to you, Monsieur?"
A chord sounded in Bill's mind. He smiled. "He said he'd find me here if he needed more information about my car. Something about my license plates."
The wicket closed and the door opened slightly. "Inside. At once," the voice directed.
They squeezed into a hallway that was obviously intended for single-file walking. A lonely bare lightbulb grew out of the ceiling and provided the only light.
The old man at the door looked as much like Albert Einstein as anyone Bill had ever seen. Bill held out his hand. "Hi there. I'm--"
"No names, Monsieur. It is too dangerous. We will assign you names. But first, I regret I must ask you to wear these." He held out two lengths of black cloth.
Bill took the one nearest him. Molly just looked at it. "Blindfolds?"
Bill already had his around his eyes and fumbled with the two ends behind his head. "Take it easy. It makes sense. If somebody gets caught they don't know who or where. They can't be, ah, coerced into leading unfriendlies back to the spot." He turned his draped face in the general direction of the old man. "Am I right?"
"You are very perceptive, Monsieur. Now, I must ask you to don yours, Madame."
Molly reluctantly complied, then Mr. Einstein took Bill's hand and Bill took Molly's in his other hand. They walked for what seemed like an hour, twisting, ducking, up, down, here, there, until at last the man dropped Bill's hand and they stopped.
"You may remove your hoodwinks, my friends."
They slipped the cloths over their heads and blinked several times. The light was just as dim here as it had been out in the hall, but after the total blackness it seemed like a fireball.
As the chemical levels in his eyes adjusted, Bill scanned the room. The cross-section of typical urban population seated in a circle could just as easily have been his old Bible study group back in Fort Wayne. Or it could have been a typical jury. He found the eyes that belonged to the man who invited them. The eyes now smiled, as did the rest of the face. He rose from his chair and gave Bill his hand. "Welcome, my friends, welcome. We apologize for the intrigue, but I assure you it is necessary." He turned to the group. "Friends, may I present two traveling members of our Master's body, Joseph and Mary."
Bill and Molly exchanged glances. Molly almost laughed. Bill took her hand and winked at her.
A pretty young woman with long dark hair and deep brown eyes spoke up. "Please join us, Joseph and Mary. I am Ruth, and your friend who asked you here is Boaz." Bill and Molly both recognized the woman who had arrived with Boaz. They now saw that the package she carried was a baby.
Old Man Einstein joined the circle. All eyes followed him and he smiled. "Let us lift our hearts to our Master."
Voices whispered all around the room, some in French, some in a speech Bill couldn't catch. He leaned over to Molly and whispered, "What are they saying?"
"I can't make it out."
Boaz stepped quietly to them and knelt beside their chairs. He whispered, "We do not pray aloud, my friends. The walls have ears. We pray quietly, some in what you English call tongues. Please feel free to express your hearts to the Lord as you feel led to do." He patted both of them on the knees and returned to his seat. Ruth reached her hand over and laced her fingers through his. The movement made the baby whimper a little.
Bill stole a peek at Molly. She had her eyes closed and her lips moved slightly. Inside himself he said, "Lord, I don't really know what to say. Thanks for getting us this far and leading us to these people. Please bring us to a safe place. But, Lord, you know what's really nagging at me. Even if we get to safety, what happens then? I can't even think about living apart from her, but she looks at me like I'm a child. What should I do? I really need your mind right now, Lord, because I think I--I love her."
His eyes popped open. Molly still prayed. Bill felt sweaty. It was the first time he had admitted it to himself. But he knew if he admitted it to her she'd tell him he didn't any such thing. To her they were friends and companions, almost relatives. But nothing more.
The people were singing softly. Bill didn't recognize the tune. Several people held their hands in the air. The singing stopped and a young man, younger than Bill, spoke.
"My children, you have endured much. There is yet much to endure. But never forget: I am with you. And I will always be with you. Persevere to the end. Do not give up. I will yet set things right, and prevail over the evil in this world. Persevere, my little ones. Persevere." Then he turned to Bill and Molly. "Do not go to Switzerland. I have prepared you a place of safety elsewhere. Follow me, one step at a time, and I will lead you to it. I will protect you and bring you there." He looked Bill squarely in the eyes. "And you, whom these have dubbed Joseph. Do not be afraid to speak what is in your heart. I have prepared the way, and your perceptions are those of your own senses, not of my revealing. There is much you do not realize." The young man then blinked a few times and shifted in his chair. "Joseph, I do not know the things of which the Lord has spoken to you through me. But I sense that you know."
Bill nodded slowly, his face reflecting wonder. "Yeah. I know." Then he snapped himself out of it. "How did you know we were heading for Switzerland?"
The young man wouldn't meet Bill's gaze any more. "I did not know, my friend. The Lord only just now told me."
Bill looked over at Boaz. Boaz held up his hand in the position of an oath. "As God is my witness, Joseph, I said nothing. The Lord often uses Timothy this way in our gatherings."
In desperation, Bill turned to Molly. "Don't look at me," she replied to his questioning look. "I certainly didn't tell him. I believe that was straight from the Throne."
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it was, at that." Bill smiled at the young man. "Thanks. I needed that."
"Thank the Lord, Joseph. I am only His tool."
When the worship meeting ended Bill and Molly, A.K.A. Joseph and Mary, rose to go. After the blindfolded trip back out of the building they waited around the corner where Boaz had instructed them to wait. Molly acted nervous. "What do you suppose he intends to do?"
"Good question. But I think we can trust him."
"What was that part of Timothy's message about speaking what's in your heart to whomever?"
Bill almost choked. "Ahh, well, uh, how about we discuss that later? I'll tell you all about it sometime."
Molly raised her eyebrows. "I don't understand. Is there something to do with me?"
A hiss came from behind them. They both jumped and turned toward it. It was Boaz. "This way. Quickly."
Saved by the bell, Bill thought. Aloud he said, "How did you--never mind. Come on, Mary." He took her hand and followed Boaz through the narrow passage between the tenements.
Once on the next street Boaz said, "Take me to your car."
As Molly led the way Bill asked, "Where's Ruth an the baby?"
"They departed by a different path. It is safer that way."
"Your family?"
Boaz didn't answer. They reached the car and Boaz withdrew a large envelope from the front of his pants. He gave it to Bill. "License plates, registration, some money and a safe conduct pass out of the city."
Once again Bill started to ask, "How did you--never mind. The less we know, the better, right?"
"You begin to understand our ways, my friend. Now, put those plates on the car."
Bill's experienced fingers changed the plates in less than two minutes. He took the new registration and put it in the glove compartment. He and Molly tried to refuse the money, but Boaz wouldn't hear of it. "It was provided especially for you through one of our members. Please, take it. You will need it."
Molly tucked it in her purse. "Very well. Now, what do we do with this?" She held up the conduct pass.
"You may encounter resistance as you try to exit the city. Show them that pass and they will allow you to leave."
Bill scratched his head at the French words. "What does it say?"
"It says you are tourists from England, that you have been examined and found satisfactory by representatives of the central committee. It lists your next stop as Lyons, so you must leave by the Paris-Lyons motorway. Do not forget this."
Molly put the pass on the dashboard. "Very well." She looked at Boaz. "And what of you? How will you fare?"
He smiled in the dim light. "The Lord has His plans for all of us. I will stay here with my friends and encourage them, as they encourage me. Our prayers go with you, my friends. And remember the prophecy. Do not go to Switzerland."
"Any idea why?"
"None, except that the Swiss have joined the conference for Unification. It seems they are no longer neutral in world affairs."
Bill nodded. "That's good to know. Should we leave right away?"
"No. In the morning. Leaving at night will appear suspicious."
Bill felt tears coming. "You've done so much for us. I feel like we're abandoning you. We'll never see you again, will we?"
Boaz sniffed. "We will meet again, but not in this life, I fear. We must part now. Farewell, my friends."
He caught Bill in a giant bear hug. Bill wept openly on his shoulder. Boaz released him, kissed him on each cheek and approached Molly. "Mary, you are a very special lady. The Lord go with you and watch over you. He hugged her and they both cried freely.
Bill got in the car behind the wheel. Molly climbed in and turned to Boaz as the engine sprang to life. "Thank everyone for us. And may the Lord protect you all."
"Goodbye, my friends." Boaz disappeared into the shadows.
Bill started down the street. "Where to now?"
"If we find a campsite instead of a hotel we can save some money."
He handed her the map. "Point me in the right direction."
They lay on the ground by the car, using coats for blankets and rolled-up jeans for pillows. In the warm Spring air, they didn't need much covering.
"The rest room over there has showers in it," Molly said. "We can clean up before we start tomorrow."
Bill gazed at the stars that peeked out through the city's ambient light. "Uh-huh."
"By the by, you never did answer my question."
"What question?"
"That message. Does it have something to do with me? You seemed awfully evasive."
"Now, Mother. Don't get paranoid," he laughed. "It's just something I need to work out with myself."
"If you'd rather not tell me, simply say so."
"So."
Molly laughed. "I suppose that's my answer, eh?"
"I'd just rather not talk about it right now."
"Very well." She smiled sweetly and turned over.