Sometimes this was the way. The network had to be regularly broken so that the people involved did not know one another. It protected them all. Only those moving along the network encountered more than two or three of the links of the chain.

The greatest precaution against discovery was that no single individual knew too much, and those who helped were familiar with a minimum of others like themselves. They must not know what went on before or beyond the time when travelers in danger came into their hands.

The farmer who had deposited them at this particular site, which was not his, did not know whose building it was or where they were bound next. He only knew sufficient instructions to take them halfway. Then they would be met by another, in the middle of the night at a prearranged point, one who knew nothing of the farmer, his hay wagon, or the building, but who did possess the directions necessary for the remainder of their night’s journey and the password that would be required of them at its end. He knew nothing beyond that.

There was a small moon. They set out alone with the scant instructions they possessed.

Through the deserted countryside they walked, Jakob, as was his custom, leading the way. The partnership could not have been more perfect under the circumstances. Heziah Wissen listened to and memorized every detail of every instruction, which Jakob Kropf then let his hands and feet interpret in leading the little band. Each needed the other. The rabbi was happy to submit to the leadership of Jakob’s feet, Jakob to the wisdom of Heziah’s judgment.

The mutuality of friendship and trust between them was of a very practical sort.

It worked. And it had kept all eight of them alive and moving steadily toward their unknown destination.

They met what was supposed to be their final contact sometime between one and three in the morning, in a deserted field next to an abandoned shack.

Words between them had been scant. It was always best that way. The network was in the business of helping and saving lives, not making friends. The man had given the rabbi their directions for the rest of the night and the password, which he must not forget if they were to gain admittance.

They thanked him. He disappeared.

They continued on.

They would meet no one else. The rest of the way they would have to make on their own.

By daybreak they had still not reached the edge of the wood. Under cover of the trees, the moon’s light had not been sufficient to keep easily to the paths and dirt roads. They had made some errors, had to backtrack, and Jakob had done well to keep them moving in the right direction at all.

Now it was dawn, and he knew they could not make their destination. The man by the shack had been specific and insistent.