For this feat, I’m soon rewarded—by an idea. When Mrs. van der Meer leaves us to clear the dishes while she opens her store downstairs, the fact it’s a pharmacy plants in my mind a seed, one that takes root by the time I return to the quiet of my room.

I’ve promised Arie suggestions after contemplating his plan. He intends to rescue his contact and Evelien, in that immediate order, two days from now. It will be the date of my departure, though many hours after I’ve left. That’s when Ziegler and his wife will attend a late dinner across town for some Nazi hotshot’s birthday. With the cook off for the night, Evelien will be alone in the care of the housekeeper, who for the occasion is due to stay the night.

The couple isn’t expected back until late, Arie explained. There’s a good chance, I figure, they won’t notice the girl’s missing till morning. By then, Lord willing, we’ll have made good headway west, hoofing it to the countryside.

And what then? I asked.

A farmer there, near Gouda, quietly takes people in. The hope is that he’ll allow us to stay for the duration.

Arie acknowledged it isn’t ideal, again relying on others to hide out. But aside from his temporary identity pass that exempts him from the labor call-up—issued by Ziegler and barring all travel beyond Utrecht—he lacks papers to protect him and Evelien. His options are therefore as limited as his time line, with Ziegler growing increasingly impatient over the recovery of the wounded Resistance leader.

Her code name is Nel. A real brave and strong woman, Arie said of her.

The admiration in his tone did make me wonder if something more lay between them. If so, it might even be bolstering his drive to rescue her and—

I quell the thought. It’s entirely his business.

All that matters is that to save her and Evelien, along with himself, through quick thinking, he’d appealed to Ziegler’s self-interest. Arie told him that Nel has knowledge of a high-ranking officer, a man from the old German elite, engaged in undermining Hitler by feeding intel to the Allies. Such a level of betrayal could earn Ziegler accolades if uncovered; a demotion, at best, if missed.

Arie went on to relay: I told him that, even if tortured, Nel wouldn’t give up the traitor’s identity. Not to a Nazi, anyway—but just maybe she’d confide in an established contact. One dressed as, say, a hospital janitor under the guise of preparing for her escape.