He’s already inside, Nel’s cousin reported when I arrived. He waited too long for you as it was.

I didn’t bother to explain my tardiness; it makes no difference at this point. Neither, I decide, will I worry about the contents of my satchel, all now irretrievable, including gadgets useful for the countryside—never mind my treasured pocket watch, my last remnant of Papa. Currently I have the wherewithal for just the issues at hand.

A rustling movement turns me. The cousin is standing and peering over the bin.

I demand in a whisper, “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting closer,” he hisses.

We’ve been tasked with staying hidden from sight and watching for patrollers, so that when—not if—Nel emerges, we’re to slip out and distract them while pretending to window shop, a rare if defendable activity past closing.

I start to remind him, but he hauls off across the street. It’s vacant, fortunately, yet only at the moment. And though the police might be occupied with raids, a hospital guard will be posted.

I rush to intercede, barely remembering to snag the duffel Arie left for me. A sprinkling of rain dots my face as I catch up to the cousin, who slows at the corner and peeks around the building. “Stop,” I whisper-shout. “If you’re seen, you could endanger them both.”

Almost an hour remains until curfew, but with most sensible folks already at home for both safety and weather, any activity can fast draw scrutiny.

He doesn’t go farther, which reassures me until I note his hand in his coat pocket and the butt of a pistol in his grip. A surprising possession for someone not with the underground.

Or so his story goes.

Could he actually be a member? What if they’ve definitively ruled Arie a traitor? After Nel is freed, her cousin could have his own set of orders…

Then again, maybe, hopefully, Arie is right about my seeing too many picture shows.

The cousin checks his watch. I resist doing the same. Not that it helps. I feel the ticking of every second. Dutifully, I surveil our surroundings while clutching the duffel. At the thought of its contents—namely the travel food and escape aids, all hidden beyond Arie’s personals—our discussion from this morning drifts back.

If anything goes wrong, Arie said, if I’m not out of the hospital by seven thirty, I need you to go to Ziegler’s. Get Evelien to safety if you can.

That countdown now is going much too fast.

To combat my nerves, same as I did during our shows as kids, I visualize him completing each of our calculated steps. I imagine him in a janitor’s coveralls, knocking out Nel’s nurse with tonic and ether, dimming the room for the night, switching her uniform with—

“There he is.” The cousin is peeking again around the building.