Page 33 of Winter's End
His green eyes darkened.
“My guess is that news of the attempted siege is beginning to trickle down to the rank and file. The tension – and speculation about what is happening at the front – could account for this distraction you noticed.”
Mila considered.
“It could also be the reason,” Pieter went on, “why German officers will be meeting at the Cinema tonight. Undoubtedly, there is news to be shared, perhaps even a shuffling of troops.”
Mila listened, excited to think an end to the war might be in sight, but reluctant to re-live the fading optimism that had followed the Normandy invasion.
She looked down at the drawings on his desk.
“In any case, thank you, Pieter,” she said, “for trusting me with this assignment. God speed to the Allied forces. And if there is anything more I can do…”
Pieter smiled. “That is very like you, Mila. As if you have not already done so much,” he tapped at the drawings.”
Mila placed her hands on the desktop, surprised to find months of rancor rising to the surface. “Pieter, I am tired of being on the sidelines. That mission at the coast yesterday stirred my blood. I am capable and careful, and I am sick of this war and of an endless tide of Hitler’s Nazis sitting on our graves. I pray the end of the war is near, but until it comes, I am ready to get my hands dirty. I ask again, what can I do?”
Pieter’s green eyes bored into her.
“I am a trained marksman, Pieter, in case you did not know,” she said. “I have trained at the shooting range, alongside my father, since I was twelve years old, and I daresay I can handle a firearm as well as anyone – and better than most.”
Pieter sat back in his seat. “So. A German speaker, a trained marksman, and a beautiful woman…perfect qualifications for a spy.”
It stopped her for a moment. Was he mocking her? But she kept to her purpose. “Good, then,” she said. “Throw me into the trenches. Give me the chance to show you what I am made of.”
Pieter was still for nearly a minute. The he leaned toward her. “You know Johan Steegen,ja? He has an auto repair shop on the Damstraat?”
“I do. My father trusts his beloved Daimler to him.”
“Good. Steegen maintains for us a small arsenal among his stock of automobile parts. I will be at his shop in one hour. If you can meet us there – with the Daimler if you can, so that all seems legitimate – you may be able to help us to make the most of this evening’s German meeting at the Cinema.”
Mila was prepared when her father asked why she wanted the Daimler.
“I’m taking it to Amsterdam,” she told him, “I will lunch there with my friend, Anna Nykerk. Never fear, Papa, I will be home in time for dinner – and I will send your regards to the Nykerks.”
...
She drove the car into a bay at Steegen’s auto shop minutes before noon. Johan and Pieter were deep in discussion when she swung through the shop’s glass door.
“MevreowBrouwer,” Johan inclined his head.
“Mila, please. How are you, Johan?”
“As well as any,” Steen said, as they moved off to a small office and closed the door. “Doing my best from day to day.”
Pieter wasted no time. “As you may know, Mila,” he said, “the Cinema here is open three days a week from noon until four, mostly showing short films and a lot of German propaganda. It is open today for the matinee before the Reich meeting this evening.”
Mila nodded.
“The meeting presents a unique opportunity for us to rid the Reich of an untold number of officers. But it is dangerous, Mila. This is something Daan Mulder and I might have carried out ourselves but the timing is wrong. He and I are heading up another risky operation elsewhere tonight.”
He paused. In any case, a lovely German speaker out for an entertainment might be the better option.”
Mila listened.
“If you think you are up to it, you will attend today’s matinee,” Pieter said, looking over at Steegen.
Johan held out his hand, palm open, and Pieter held up one of two small devices.
