Part Five: Outright War — Chapter 6 - The Barman of the Ritz

MAY 5, 1943

For some days now, Frank has been puzzled by the presence of a dozen old bicycles mounted on chocks at the back of the hairdressing salon. One of the bellboys tells him that Elmiger has hired a team of cyclists, their bicycles connected to generators, to power the hairdryers of women getting a perm. A real stroke of genius. There are power cuts all over Paris, but here at the Ritz the guests can still get their hair done. Outside, Jews are being hunted down, children are being shot at Mont Valérien, and people are starving to death, but when it comes to hair curlers, a luxury hotel has to be faultless.

The Ritz, a palace of illusions.

Süss disappears into the shadows. Following close behind, Frank gropes his way through the cellars of the Ritz. Last night, on the telephone, Süss had sounded worried when he arranged to meet Frank in the cellar they used to store luggage, but he gave no other details—except to be as discreet as possible.

“Monsieur Süss?” Frank calls, muffling his voice with his hand. “I can’t see you, are you there?”

What a weird place. At once sinister and serene. Not a sound from the outside world, the place is dry and dark, the walls impossibly thick. It is like a crypt. Many of the Ritz’s guests fled Paris in the spring of 1940, leaving their belongings behind. All these trunks and suitcases piled up like coffins, a graveyard of memories. They have not been opened for years. What has become of their owners? Where do they live today? In New York, Rio, or London? Are they dead or alive? Will they ever get their items back? The Nazis have not yet poked their noses into these treasures of the past.

Down here, at least, there is no war. There never was. Such peace… Up there, people are looting, raiding, and killing; in the cellars of the Ritz, the past sleeps peacefully.

Süss leads him towards the hidden door, the entrance to the tunnel.

In the glow of the flashlight, Frank can see that he’s even paler than he was last week. No sooner have they arrived than Süss blurts out his story.

“I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble, Frank. I’ve just heard from a reliable source that, for the past three months, the Gestapo have been investigating me.”

“On what grounds?”

“The SS suspect me of spying for the British.”

“But… you’re not, are you?”

“They think the fact I’m close to Göring is just a cover. After all I’ve done for that fat pig!”

“Do you think Göring’s henchmen are trying to get rid of you?”

“It’s something I’ve considered. But the truth is, I don’t know.”

“Why haven’t they arrested you?”

“Because I’m part of a wider investigation. The SS are convinced that there’s a whole network of spies in the Ritz.”

Frank is thinking fast. This is bad news.

“How did you find out about all this?”

“Through Bedaux.”

“Charles Bedaux?”

“He negotiated his freedom with the Allies in Algiers. He’s now working for them. I swear, with Bedaux, betrayal is a character trait.”

“And you trust him?”

Süss’s sly half-smile tells Frank that he still has a lot to learn about what is going on outside his bar.

“We’ve been in contact since last summer. He’s bought a dozen artworks from Jewish families, at a fair market price, not at a discount. He was really helpful. He’s paid out a fortune and he’s never complained. His arrest was a real blow.”

“But Bedaux loathes the Jews!”

“Let’s just say he was covering his back. And he wasn’t wrong.”

“I feel sick to my stomach…”

Süss’s hopeless smile broadens.

“How is it possible that you are still so outraged by the injustices of this world, Frank? Regardless of his actions, Bedaux warned me that the Gestapo have been spying on us.”

Clearly, there will never be an end to this war.

“Meier, come closer to the pillar and lean down to your left.”

Frank curses his increasingly arthritic joints.

“Right there, at the bottom, can you see the small cabinet embedded in the stone?”

Frank had not noticed the little door embedded in the sandstone column. Granted, there is little light in the cellar and the cabinet is well hidden. It is made of bronze and gilded brass with a central bas-relief of Christ, hand raised, head surrounded by a golden halo, that looks as though it dates back to biblical times. Frank opens it carefully, revealing a small alcove.

“What can you see?”

“There’s a red silk scarf.”

“If I have to flee, I’ll take it with me. So, if I suddenly disappear, come and check. If the scarf is gone, you’ll know that I’m safe and that I escaped through the tunnel. And you’ll know that you need to be very careful.”

“Where would you go?”

“It’s better for both of us if I don’t say any more. One other thing, Frank: it was Blanche Auzello who left the lights on in the kitchen. I caught her red-handed.”

“And you turned her in?” Frank says incredulously.

“Of course not! Why on earth would I? What I mean to say is, now that Blanche is in the hands of the Nazis, she’s a loose cannon.”

“But if you didn’t turn her in, who did?”

“Who do you think?”

Frank hesitates.

“The Widow?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure.”

As he stares at the alcove, Frank silently begs Blanche to hang on.

She always dreamed of being a heroine, now she has the chance to show the world what she’s made of. If she can survive this ordeal, there is a chance that I will get through this. If not…

“Do everything you possibly can to make Lafont’s reception a success,” Süss advises. “Be passionate, be charming. You won’t get another chance. Prove your loyalty to them. Protect yourself, Frank!”

As Frank sees Süss carefully hang a little oil lamp on the wall, he realizes that his mind is made up. He is saying goodbye. Frank is overcome with emotion.

“I want to thank you, Monsieur Süss, you’ve given me a great deal of moral support. You’ve shown me a path through the chaos.”

As he makes his way back to the kitchens, Süss flashes Frank a smile.

“That’s the solidarity of the wandering soul, Frank.”