hours at small outdoor cafés on the Champs-Élysées, or on the Left Bank near the Pont
Neuf. There were hundreds of men in German uniforms, many of them with young French
girls. The French civilian men were either too old or lame, and Noelle supposed that the
younger ones had been sent to camps or conscripted for military duty. She could tell the
Germans at a glance, even when they were not in uniform. They had a look of arrogance
stamped on their faces, the look that conquerors have had since the days of Alexander and
Hadrian. Noelle did not hate them, nor did she like them. They simply did not touch her.
She was filled with a busy inner life, carefully planning out each move. She knew
exactly what her goal was, and she knew that nothing could stop her. As soon as she was
able to afford it, she engaged a private detective who had handled a divorce for a model
with whom she worked. The detective’s name was Christian Barbet, and he operated out
of a small, shabby office on the rue St. Lazare. The sign on the door read:
ENQUÊTES
PRIVÉES ET COMMERCIALES
RECHERCHES
RENSEIGNEMENTS
CONFIDENTIELS
FILATURES
PREUVES
The sign was almost larger than the office. Barbet was short and bald with yellow, broken
teeth, narrow squinting eyes and nicotine-stained fingers.
“What can I do for you?” he asked Noelle.
“I want information about someone in England.”
He blinked suspiciously. “What kind of information?”
“Anything. Whether he’s married, who he sees. Anything at all. I want to start a
scrapbook on him.”
Barbet gingerly scratched his crotch and stared at her.
“Is he an Englishman?”
“An American. He’s a pilot with the Eagle Squadron of the RAF.”
Barbet rubbed the top of his head, uneasily. “I don’t know,” he grumbled. “We’re at
war. If they caught me trying to get information out of England about a flyer—”
His voice trailed off and he shrugged expressively. “The Germans shoot first and ask
questions afterward.”
“I don’t want any military information,” Noelle assured him. She opened her purse
and took out a wad of franc notes. Barbet studied them hungrily.
“I have connections in England,” he said cautiously, “but it will be expensive.”