I hug the building beside me, shifting out of view. The Nazi is as close as thirty yards away. I long to shout for Arie even more than before, now to alert him. I steal a look. He’s heading right for the enemy. How does he not see that? What the devil is he doing?

As if he’s heard my warning, he pauses. He’s seen the soldier, but too late. The German grips his weapon, turning toward Arie, who immediately raises both arms.

No—not both. One, sharp and straight.

A Sieg Heil salute.

I stand utterly frozen as he greets the soldier. Their words are indecipherable but there’s casualness in the exchange. Even smiles of being well acquainted. Then the German releases his rifle, letting it hang from his shoulder, and opens the door to invite Arie inside.

Chapter 58

Desperate for solidity, for reason, I press my back against the building, safe from the guard’s sight. I must have misinterpreted what I saw. I’d made such an error before, with Hutton, thinking his alarming behavior amounted to more than it did.

Of course, that didn’t involve a German soldier, and certainly not a Nazi salute. Then again, Arie could be pretending to work for the Germans. As a double agent. But if so, why wouldn’t he pass on word to London? Why risk them believing he’d betrayed his own people?

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t Arie I followed. That would explain everything. And yet the pit in my stomach affirms it was him, begging the questions: At what point do I stop dismissing the obvious? When do I quit scraping for excuses?

I peer around the corner and find the soldier still guarding the building. Several stories high and made of light stone, the place could be Gestapo headquarters for all I know.

I can’t deny that secrets are nothing new for Arie. Starting as a young boy, he became fully adept at keeping activities from others—sneaking out at night, even taking secret jobs to pay for surprise gifts. Now, with an icy shudder, I wonder how much else he’s been hiding and for how long.

Given the threat of patrollers, it’s unwise for me to stay. But how can I leave until understanding what I saw?

Finally, the man reemerges. While chatting again, he strikes a match to light the soldier’s cigarette. By the glow of the flame, there’s no denying Arie’s identity. Then he steps in my direction but quickly angles back when the German adds something more. Their shared laughter crawls under my skin.

Any second, Arie will resume his walk.