Page 32 of Winter's End
Zoe smiled. “You are the Pied Piper of Haarlem, it seems. He was always one of my heroes.”
“Thank you, I think.” He rose from his perch on the side of a bed. “I am not certain I deserve the title, but I would be honored to be your hero. Kurt Schneider.” He held out a hand.
Zoe recognized the accented Dutch. Her eyebrows rose.AGerman?
He seemed to sense her surprise. “Yes, I am German – a fallen German, if you will, and an identified enemy of the Reich.”
Zoe thought of Herr Zeller, the concert pianist. “You are not compelled to answer, but I will ask anyway. What did you do to earn the wrath of Hitler?”
He smiled, and the sun shone through his blue eyes. “My brother and I built yachts in Cologne, with a regular route into Rotterdam. Over time, we smuggled dozens of Jews and German dissenters like myself across the border – until the SS got wind of it and came after us.”
Zoe studied the neatly trimmed beard, the slightly crooked smile. “You were lucky to escape with your life.”
He raised his hands in a futile gesture. “My brother was not so lucky.”
Zoe nodded. “I am sorry…”
He inclined his head. “Thank you. As am I.”
“So,” she went on to lighten the moment, “were you always a storyteller, Kurt Schneider?”
He found his smile. “Alas, no. But I do love children, and reading stories helps to keep them from becoming unruly.”
Gerrit came up behind her. “Ah, Kurt, this is Dr. Zoe Visser. She is a veterinarian who works for the Resistance – and my very dear cousin. It was she who persuaded us to create this erstwhile hiding place.”
“Our gratitude,” Schneider said, putting a hand over his heart. “This is the second time I have been forced to flee from the Nazis. When I fled Germany, I settled in Haarlem, but my home is in the path of the defensive line they are rushing headlong to complete.”
His gaze settled on Zoe. “Fortunately, the bastards who pounded on my front door and gave me twenty-four hours to evacuate seemed to have no knowledge of my previous brush with the Gestapo. But I would not be surprised, somewhere up the line, to find myself still in their sights.”
Gerrit patted Schneider on the shoulder. “I will leave you, if I may,” he said. “I have matters to see to. Zoe, can you find your way downstairs?”
“Yes, of course – and thank you again, Gerrit. I will see you soon, I hope.”
Kurt Schneider bowed ever so slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Zoe Visser.” He smiled, and the room brightened.
One by one, the children trickled back. “More,MeneerKurt, please?”
Zoe stepped back. “Do not let me keep you.” She was embarrassed to find herself staring
MILA
Mila withdrew the drawings from her artist’s portfolio and set them on Pieter’s desk. She had done her best to project angles and distances, and she knew from the expression on Pieter’s face as he examined them that he was pleased with what he saw.
“This is good work, Mila. Thank you for taking the risk. I will get these to London straight away.”
“The strange thing, Pieter, is how remarkably low risk it was,” she said, leaning forward across the desk “As I told you, the few German patrols I saw seemed totally uninterested. They were too busy conferring with one another to pay me any notice – and the pair of SS officers at dinner last night managed barely to sit through dessert. Apart from mentioning the meeting at the Cinema, they had very little to say,”
Pieter met her gaze. “It was more than good fortune, Mila. I think I may know why they seemed so preoccupied.”
He kept his voice low. “Our intelligence tells us that some two-hundred thousand German troops and perhaps a thousand tanks were massed yesterday in the Ardennes Forest in Belgium. We think they are preparing to launch an invasion on the American front – some sort of payback, as it were, for their losses in Normandy last June…and perhaps a last-ditch effort, also, to turn the tide of the war in Hitler’s favor.”
Mila felt her blood quicken.
“We are doing what we can and we pray the American allies will prevail. If they do, it could mean an end to the war – and liberation.”
“But if not…”
“We can pray, Mila. God knows four years of hunger and misery have been more than enough to bear.”
