“False info—all tough to verify. And some real intel that I knew had just been intercepted.” The last word drags with a hint of a slur. “Since that wouldn’t be enough, I gave up some of the underground’s weapons. The local network had a munitions cache, in a shed for drying flower bulbs. I was supposed to add my case to the pile. So tipping off the storage location also gave me an alibi to explain my missing stash. In the large scheme, it seemed a small price.”

By that rationale, I can’t deny that the trade comes off as palatable. Regardless, he does, and will, have more to account for. “At HQ, they said a cell’s meeting was raided. That you were the only one who didn’t show up.”

“It wasn’t a cell,” he corrects, not impatiently. “Like I was saying, it was the top leadership of several from around the country. Our saboteur groups had all taken hefty hits, which is where I came in, to aid coordination and supplies. Controllers usually keep disjointed for security, but forming a national effort, sharing resources and plans, the networks could all benefit if done right.”

I take this in, comprehending. “But if that meeting were to be raided,” I muse aloud, “in a single swipe, leaders are wiped out, others deterred. Morale squashed. Networks face collapse.”

He nods. “All of which Ziegler would love to take credit for.”

No wonder the commander was willing to bargain, up front anyway. Again though, how far did Arie’s concessions go?

“Did you do it?” I persist bluntly. “Did you tip him off about the meeting?”

A brief, unsettling beat. “I gave him the date and time—”

“Arie,” I breathe.

“But a false location,” he stresses. “I needed Ziegler out of the house. His wife barely lets Evelien out of her sight. But his housekeeper swore the wife would be gone at an event. And with the cook away at the market, I’d have a chance to snatch Evelien back.”

The implications induce mental whiplash, a single one dominating the rest. “He kept your niece? At his home?”

Arie struggles to answer, plainly having said more than intended, and my heart twists. “She’s fine there,” he says. “For the time being.”

Registering his use of the present tense, I challenge, “How do you know?”

“Proof. It was a requirement of the deal. I pass him info, and I get a glimpse of Evelien up in a window.” Discomfort underlies Arie’s tone, justifiably so. This commander indeed treats people as pawns in a warped game. Even greater reason to get her out.

“What of the housekeeper? You persuaded her to help you?”

“We have an arrangement,” he says. “Besides, she knows it’s the right thing.” Fairly vague as answers go, but I concentrate on a more pressing point.