Page 78 of Winter's End
Zoe sighed.Would it come soon enough to keep the top floor of the hospital hidden? Soon enough to keep Kurt and the others safe, and Gerritt from an almost certain charge of treason?
Zoe stripped the used protective paper from the examination table. There was only a single roll of it left in the supply room. What would she do when it ran out altogether? When no antibiotics remained? When hope, like the last of their dwindling supplies dissolved, like so much soapy water, down the drain?
MILA
The morning edition of the German language newspaper ran the story above the fold on page one, along with lurid headlines and photographs.
Mila devoured the details; Amsterdam police captain shot in the street in front of theLeidspleinfountain by an as-yet unknown assailant…attempted assassination…critical condition…held under guard in hospital…massive search for assailant…
Exasperated, she threw back her head. The traitor was alive. The painstaking scenario she and Pieter had planned was a failure.
She was finishing her tea, alone in the dining room, when Reit appeared with a package.
“This came for you,Missen, last evening.”
“Thank you, Reit.”
She took the flat package, used a silver knife to slit it open, and stared wordlessly at the contents; inside a colorful cardboard sleeve, with a sensual photograph of the artiste, a recording of Marlene Deitrich’s ‘Lili Marleen.’
Mila sighed, recalling the dinner party when she had stopped the conversation about the Cinema blast with her wish for the popular recording.
She fished inside the package, and brought out a note, written in loopy German script. ‘With kindest regards to a beautiful lady.’ It was signed,ObersturmfuhrerFranz Becker.
No doubt the leering wretch would expect something in return – likely her company away from under the eye of her father.
Unlikely that would happen!Not if she had any say in the matter…
Tossingthe record and its wrappings over the newspaper on the table, she called to the housekeeper in the kitchen. “Thank you, Reit. You may clear these things. I will be out for a while.”
Grabbing a cashmere coat and scarf from a hook by the door, she set off into the morning. The sky was a dull and sullen grey, and the last of winter’s withered brown leaves swirled at her feet at the curbsides. It was not as cold as it had been of late, but she strode the few kilometers to Pieter’s office against a persistent wind.
His response to the news of de Boer’s survival, she knew, would be both practical and rational. He was far less emotional than she…
And yet…. she felt her face flush. His kiss last night had been anything but restrained. If she closed her eyes, she could taste his lips, urgent and wanting, and her body responding with a rush she dared not think about.
She walked faster, low heels tapping on cobblestones, looked over her shoulder by habit, and made her way to the brick building that had become her second home. Not for the first time, she wondered if a plumbing service had ever operated in the space, or if the prominent signage had been a ruse by Resistance planners from the outset.
It was not too far a leap to wonder if the SS had eyes on it….
...
Pieter kissed her on both cheeks, then to her surprise, pressed his lips lightly against hers. She liked the way her body fit against his, as though it had been made for that purpose.
“You are cold,” he murmured into her hair. “And beautiful with your cheeks all rosy.”
She leaned in again, but he pulled back. “Not here. Not now,” he said softly.
She nodded agreement, seating herself as he crossed behind the desk. “So,” she said. “You have read the news.”
“Of course.” He sat back in his chair, arms folded in front of him. “But we know little of his condition. Now we can only hope for the best – or the worst, as it were, if he is critical. Either way, we delivered a message. If de Boer survives, he will guess we are aware of his treachery.”
Practical. Rational. As Mila had expected. “Pieter, my concern is pushback…”
“The bastard and his allies will have to find me first, and that will never happen.”
“The driver…”
Pieter shook his head. “I spoke with the driver late last night. He was crestfallen. He abhors the man. Investigators will get nothing from him.”
