The boy continued on to Etienne’s. Aservant came to the door this time and as much as Lisette wished toexplain, she feared getting too close. If they already knewEtienne’s involvement, someone could be watching him now. It wasthe same reason she remained across the street from Pasquel’s doorand traveled opposite of Claude.
Still, she was confident he wouldunderstand they had been compromised and needed to leave Parisimmediately.
As much as she hated for Claude toreturn home, she knew he must. If he didn’t, the soldiers wouldbecome suspicious. The boy began his way back up the streets, thecroissant long gone. Lisette followed, her heart heavy with fear ofwhat they might find.
She watched as Claude turned onto thestreet in front of his house before she ducked into the narrowstreet and made her way to the back of the Vaux home. She silentlyopened the back door, expecting to find Jean Pierre where she lefthim, but the spot was vacant. Shots rang out from the front of thehouse as she stepped into the kitchen.
Lisette rushed into the parlor, knifeclutched in her hand. Vaux’s head lay on his desk. Crimson bloodstained the parchment and a gun remained clasped in his hand. Asoldier lay on the floor in front of the desk, hand over his bloodychest with eyes unseeing towards the ceiling.
Two other soldiers were on the rug infront of a settee. She assumed they were dead as well. Jean Pierrefought with the fourth man, his gun on the floor by the door. Itwas a matter of strength between the two, with the other manbending Jean Pierre backwards, hands clasped around his throat.Lisette didn’t hesitate. She rushed forwards. Before she couldreach Jean Pierre, the soldier paused, gasped, and collapsed atJean Pierre’s feet, a knife protruding out of his belly. Herstomach revolted at the carnage. She had been trained for this andwas prepared to take a life, or so she had thought. This was thefirst time her skills had been tested or she witnesseddeath.
Jean Pierre straightened and rolledthe man out of the way.
“Papa,” Claude called from the foyer.Lisette panicked. She couldn’t let the little boy see the deadsoldiers, and most certainly not his father. What would become ofthe child? His mother died a few years ago, and essentially he wasnow alone in the room.
She rushed past Jean Pierre to stopClaude.
“Stay where you are,Claude,” Vaux called from behind her.
Lisette turned to find Vaux sitting, ahand to his forehead. Blood still ran through his fingers, but shewas relieved just the same to know he wasn’t dead. She continueduntil she came to Claude and kept him from the entry of the parlor.“Your papa would like you to wait here while his business isconcluded.”
The boy nodded solemnly.
“Burn everything,” JeanPierre order while pages rustled beyond her sight.
“I’ll gather a fewbelongings and meet you by the back door.” Vaux entered the foyer.He had found a handkerchief and pressed it against his forehead,though it was quickly turning red. He smiled gently at his son. “Myhead is harder than they anticipated.” He tousled his son’s hair.“Wait here with Lisette, and I will be back in amoment.”
She gestured to Claude to sit on abench away from the front door where he still could not see furtherinto the house and placed herself by a window where she could watchthe street. No other soldiers were about, and the soldiers’ horsesremained tied to a post outside. They needed to get out of here inthe event anyone came to check on the men, though they probablydidn’t expect them to return anytime soon.
Vaux vaulted down the stairs, twotraveling bags in his hands, as Jean Pierre came to the door.Flames crackled behind him.
“You are burning thehouse?” Alarm rose in her breast.
“I told him to. We can’trisk anything being discovered.” Vaux stopped by Claude and focusedon Lisette. “You warned Etienne and Pasquel?”
“Yes.”
“They will let the othersknow. Now, we need to get out of Paris before it is too late.” Heheld his hand out to Claude, who hopped down from his seat and tookit. The party turned down the hall and made their way to the backdoor. After checking to make sure the back of the house and narrowstreet were still empty, they made their way into the shadows. Vauxheaded north with his son. Lisette and Jean Pierre turned towardsthe river. Her arm linked with his, looking as if they were doingnothing more than going out for a morning stroll. Her heart stillbeat a mad tattoo, and she fought to keep from checking over hershoulder.
The streets were more crowded withpeople, carriages, and horses. It was easier to blend in anddisappear. They wove southwest along streets and avenues until theycame to the Seine. A cold wind whipped around them. Jean Pierreturned up the collar of his coat. They continued west along theriver, and the further they traveled, the more the crowds thinned.Lisette cast glances in many directions as they walked. She wishedshe knew where Jean Pierre was headed, but he hadn’t bothered tosay a word to her after they left the house. Her contact forgetting out of the country was in the opposite direction. She hopedthey were walking towards his, because it was unsafe to bewandering the streets for Paris without a plan.
When they reached another of the manystone bridges, Jean Pierre directed her down the steps leadingtowards the water edge. At least below they were out of the directwind, though they weren’t completely sheltered. The blue sky andbright sun were deceiving, as one would think it would be a bitwarmer.
Several fishermen sat along the walls,casting their lines into the water. Ahead was a cluster of smallfishing boats mixed in with larger boast. “Some of the men whodon’t have families choose to live on their boat,” Jean Pierreexplained.
She stopped. “Would your contact own aboat?” The words were a whisper, but she didn’t take her eyes offthe soldiers.
Bloody hell. Soldiers stood atMaurice’s boat. He turned Lisette under the bridge. John glanceddown at the woman who clutched his arm. To anyone observing, shelooked like a serene young woman,
