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The ride was uneventful. Shaking off cold inside the hospital, she took the elevator to the second floor and peered into Gerritt’s office. It was empty – and as usual, though most of his office staff knew her by now, she was told only that he was out.
She made sure the elevator was empty and took it to the fifth floor.
Sher picked her way around the familiar jumble of mattresses, sawhorses, ladders, and paint buckets and made her way down the hall, peering behind her as she slipped behind the false wall and rapped out the designated code.
The door opened. It never ceased to amaze her how quiet the room was, given its dozens of occupants.
Gerritt came forward, airbrushing her cheek. “Cousin…”
“Hello, Gerritt. How are you managing? I worry every day.”
“With good reason,” Gerritt sighed.
A toddler crawled between their feet, a mischievous little towhead quicky retrieved by his mother – or his hiding mother – and shushed him silently before he could cry out. All around them, people read, slept, spoke in low tones.
Zoe’s gaze swept the room, found Kurt in his storyteller’s spot, and waved. He looked up, smiled, and waved back.
Gerritt led her to a pair of wooden stools, seated himself across from her. “So! As promised, I presented a list of patients and staff to the German commander – edited of course. He surveyed it rather thoroughly, I thought, almost as though he was looking for specific names. He did not question the list…just asked for my word that they were current and accurate.”
Zoe waited.
“He tucked it into his briefcase with a caveat – a caution, really, more than a threat. He said he would be back, expecting updates every week as the roster changed…”
Gerritt ran a hand over his face. “He asked for my assurance that I would be truthful and forthcoming, so that ‘no further action need to be taken.’ I must tell you, Zoe, it was a chilling moment. There was no mistaking the warning behind the words.”
“But he gave no indication of what he was looking for – or whom?”
“No. But I pray with everything in me that we can end this charade, and soon. I cannot afford to put myself or this hospital in jeopardy for very much longer.”
Zoe sighed. “I understand, Gerritt. I do. No amount of gratitude can minimize the risk you are taking. If liberation does not come soon, I do not know what any of us will do.”
“Am I interrupting?” Kurt appeared at their side.
“No,” Zoe managed a wan smile. “We were weighing the safety of maintaining this charade in the face of escalating scrutiny.”
Kurt came close enough that she could count the hairs on his upper lip. “I heard on the BBC last night that the Soviets are nearing the Auschwitz death camp,” he whispered. “It seems the SS is beginning to evacuate the surviving Jewish prisoners.”
His mouth tightened. “They clearly want the camps emptied before the Allies arrive, but the poor souls are out on foot, forced to march in the freezing weather,” he said. “The BBC is calling it a death march.”
Zoe grimaced, then looked up. “You have a radio?”
“In my knapsack. I listen when I can, mostly late at night when I am able to press it to my ear while most of the others are sleeping.”
“A death march.Lieve god,” Gerritt said. “There is no end to what we will suffer if the war does not end soon.”
Kurt looked from one to the other. “As one who may be actively hunted,” he said, “I join you in a prayer that it does.”
MILA
The dimly lit bistro was small but elegant, crystal chandeliers over white linen tables, a pleasing cacophony of muted conversation. She heard the pleasing clink of silver and glassware, the occasional pop of a champagne cork. Mila could not recall the last time she had encountered such gentility outside of her father’s dining room.
She had little difficulty gaining entrance to the German stronghold. She had only to smile at the young maître and drop the name of the German officer who had suggested she lunch there while in Amsterdam.
The young man took in every aspect of her bearing and attire, and promptly bowed from the waist.
“Will someone be joining you, Mademoiselle?”