Page 93 of Winter's End
Her mother’s voice was so full of fright, so pierced with moans and muffled sobs, that Zoe could not decipher the words.
“Mam,” she begged. “Slow down,behagen. I cannot understand. What is wrong?”
Her mother took a jagged breath. “Zoe…I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Your father …the Germans took him!”
Zoe sat heavily in the nearest chair. “What? When, Mam? Why?”
Her mother sniffled, blew her nose, took a deep, wobbly breath. “Inciting rebellion. That is what they said.” She blew her nose again. “Theybeathim, Zoe,” she said, finally. “They dragged him by his arms out the door…”
“Inciting rebellion…” Zoe tested the words, trying to imagine what in the name of God her mild-mannered father might have done.
But it was not relevant, not at this moment. Instead, she steeled herself against the memory of her child minder dragged by the Gestapo out of her home.
“Where did they take him, Mam?” she asked, trying desperately for calm. “Do you have any idea where they might have taken him?”
Her mother once again dissolved into tears. Zoe gave her a moment.
“Mam,” she tried again. “I need to know. Do you have any idea where he might be held?”
A new wave of sobbing. More nose blowing… “I do not know, Zoe, I do not know…Wait…wait…perhaps…”
“There is a barn,” her mother managed at last. “A big old barn on an abandoned farm just down the street from the old feed store…”
“Yes, I know it…”
“Early in the war, it is where the Nazis held scores of Jews during the roundup here in Enschede –”
Her voice broke. “Well, for a while anyway, until they were…transported elsewhere...”
“I did not know that,” Zoe said, her own dread mounting as she tried formulate a plan. “I am not certain what I can do, Mam,” she said. “But I have some friends I can call on. In the meantime,behagen, please, try to calm yourself.”
She listened as Mam’s breathing slowed. “Is there anyone you can call to stay with you?”
But this brought another spate of tears. “MevrouwVan der Wall is our nearest neighbor,” she said finally. “But her husband was taken, too!”
Zoe frowned.Van der Wall, too?
“Mam,” she said slowly. “You have no idea why they were taken?”
A long, tremulous breath. “Something about – identification papers,” she said finally. “A few of the men here have been urging people to turn over their papers to the Resistance, then report them as stolen and apply for new ones…”
Zoe closed her eyes, instantly reminded of the dozens of ID papers she had stolen. She would not have expected her conservative papa to so actively support the Resistance.
“All right, Mam,” she said finally, with as much calm as she could muster. “Please take care of yourself. Think of better times. Let me see if something can be done…”
MILA
Mila hunkered down in the privacy of her closet and tried once again to reach Pieter. But the call went unanswered, and she lay back against a row of long skirts and pounded a fist into her hand.
There was little doubt in her mind now that Pieter had, as Johan Steegen had suggested, gone back to Amsterdam to finish the failed assassination – without her.
The lack of detail about de Boer in the daily newspapers suggested that authorities wanted the public – and his would-be assassin – to know as little as possible about de Boer’s condition or his whereabouts. But there were a limited number of hospitals still operating in Amsterdam, and Pieter was resourceful enough to figure out quickly enough where the man was being treated.
Wherever he was, theverdomdpolice captain was undoubtedly heavily protected – but if Pieter could not get to him while he was still in hospital, Mila had little doubt he would stay close enough to try to finish the bastard once he was released to his home.
Rising, she returned to the three days-worth of newspapers strewn on her bed to read a few of the stories she had only skimmed. A piece in the Telegraaf caught her eye.
‘As neighboring Belgium is in the throes of liberation by advancing Allied forces,’ the story read, ‘the Dutch government is urging General Eisenhower’s chief of staff to begin an offensive to liberate the Netherlands…’
