The sound of furniture being broken and more glass shattering behind her grew fainter. She decided she would get off her bicycle in the wooded area up ahead to recover and watch from a safe distance until they left. She thought about hiding the explosives in the woods but decided against it. After all, if this had cost Erik his freedom, maybe even his life, it was imperative that the mission went ahead as arranged to make it worthwhile.
At a safe distance, she dismounted her bike. Her legs shook uncontrollably, weak from fear and exertion. She grounded herself against a tree trunk to catch her breath. Why hadn’t she thought to bring some water?
Suddenly, from behind her, a branch snapped underfoot. Turning quickly, Hannah sensed she wasn’t alone. She snatched at her bicycle and attempted to mount it when someone grabbed her from behind by both arms.
“Hannah,” he snarled.
She struggled within his grip and fought the desire to scream.
“Hannah, stop!” the voice ordered her, and she relaxed, recognizing who it belonged to. She turned to look into the eyes of Erik. “Quickly,” he snapped, bidding her to follow him deeper into the bushes.
She went along behind him as he wheeled her bicycle out of sight. Under the cover of canopy, she met the terror and determination in his eyes.
“Your house…” she spat out in panted spurts. “Raided. How? Why?”
“I don’t know,” he responded woefully. “Someone must have tipped them off. I got out just in time. My mother is strong; she won’t tell them anything. Hannah, do you think you can finish this?”
Hannah swallowed, hard. Her throat was desperately dry. She tried to make sense of what he was saying. She had finished it. Her job was to deliver the explosives to him, and he was here.
As if he were reading her thoughts, he continued, “They will be on the lookout for me. I can’t continue. It could jeopardize the mission. Hannah, do you think you can take the explosives on to the operatives who will plant them?”
Everything inside of her wanted to say, “No.” She had proved not only to herself but to anyone around who could see her shaking limbs that being that level of heroic was way beyond her capabilities. What she wanted was to go home, lock her door, and not leave until the war was over. But she saw something cross Erik’s face, and she knew instantly that he wasn’t just asking her; at this point, she was their only hope. Eva’s upturned, smiling face flashed into her mind. So instead of saying what made total sense to her, Hannah found herself saying, “What do I need to do?” And was surprised at how calm she sounded. Her mama would have been proud.
He pointed down toward the road. “Continue about half a mile until you come to a tree with a branch recently ripped from a trunk. Check underneath it. If there is no branch below it, you are in the right place. Walk back behind it and look for the limb. It will be placed farther in the forest, in the direction you need to follow. Continue on that course. If there is a need for a change of direction, a tree trunk will have two fresh slashes on it to signify a left turn and one for a right turn. Keep heading in the direction they specify until you come out onto the railway. The operatives will meet you there. Wait there until you hear three short whistles. They should be there in the next hour or so.”
Hannah felt she had earned the right to know more of the plan.
“What are they planning to do with the explosives?”
Erik eyed her warily, as if trying to decide if he could trust her.
Hannah persisted. “I need to know in case someone else is apprehended and I have to change the plan again. I am putting my own life at risk here.”
Erik blew out air and relented. “They are going to blow up the next fuel train.”
Hannah’s eyes widened, realizing the impact of her mission and how debilitating it could be to thwart the Nazis’ relentless bombing campaign of England.
She nodded, understanding, and Erik pushed the bike back toward her, indicating she should go. Then he dove back into the thick of the forest and disappeared.
Hannah moved back out to the roadway, her heart starting to pound again. Mounting her bike, she set off.
It didn’t take long for her to find the tree with the torn off branch, and as Erik had stipulated, there was no sign of the limb at the base of the tree. She hid her bike in some shrubs, carefully unstrapped the doctor’s bag, and started through the trees.
Unfortunately, this part of the forest was dense, and it wasn’t long before she was tripping on roots and undergrowth that knit its way around her ankles and shackled itself to her arms. The bulky doctor’s bag proved utterly impractical to carry through it all. Stopping for a moment to catch her breath and wipe sweat from her brow, she made a decision. She tentatively opened the bag and removed the false bottom, then she gently tucked the bundle of explosives under her arm and continued her journey. As she hacked her way through the bracken with one hand, she tried hard not to imagine what might happen if she was to trigger, by mistake, the explosives nestled next to her body.
After about twenty minutes, she finally saw light streaming through the trees and also the glint of railway tracks. Making her way to the edge of the forest, she crouched down next to some bushes to await the signal.
Chapter 48
Ingrid paced up and down the street angrily. Where on earth was Vi? They had gone over the plan only that morning, and her friend had assured her that she would meet her outside the office no later than five o’clock. Ingrid looked at her watch again. It was ten past five, and the fuel train was due into Amsterdam at six thirty. She would barely have enough time to get out to the countryside, to confirm the Resistance were indeed going to target this specific train, then travel back and get word back to Heinrich so the train could be stopped and the Resistance members arrested. She couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
Rushing to her car, she jumped in and gave her driver the directions. A look of mild confusion crossed his face, but nevertheless, he started the car and made his way out of the city.
Ingrid looked out of the window as they traveled. Heinrich had forbidden her from taking any unnecessary trips in the car due to the oil and gas shortage, but this would be worthwhile, especially seeing Heinrich’s face when he found out how brave she had been. Maybe it was good that Vi had been late. At least this way Ingrid could get all the recognition. Not that she wasn’t grateful to her friend and the information that she’d helped her uncover, but this would work out better.
As they reached the outskirts of Amsterdam, she smiled to herself. This was what their relationship needed, for him to know that she was on his side. She’d always sensed there was a small part of him that kept himself back from her because she was Dutch. This would prove once and for all that they were fighting together.
But when the car arrived at the location she had been given, she was confused. There was nothing here but thick woods. She’d expected to be able to see the train tracks, maybe not even have to leave her vehicle to confirm the suspicious activity, before going straight to Heinrich. The driver looked at her through his rearview mirror, waiting to see what she wanted to do as she checked the coordinates in her pocket against her map.
“There is supposed to be a train track here,” she informed him.
“I believe there may be, somewhere in there,” he said in a dull tone as he pointed into the thicket.
She sighed deeply, realizing her shoes were not going to last very well in mud and sodden leaves. But she didn’t have much choice if she wanted to do this.
“Wait for me here,” she commanded him, and pulling her coat tightly around herself, she stepped out into the cold afternoon.
Through the thick undergrowth, she tentatively followed a beaten path that seemed to have been created recently. Before long, she arrived at the tracks and was grateful to see she was early, as no one else seemed to be there yet. Suddenly, from behind her, she heard someone coming in haste and drew herself behind a bush to observe who it might be.
Chapter 49
; Crouched within the bushes, Hannah looked down at the explosives with concern. They were starting to weigh heavily in her hands, and now that she had stopped, she had plenty of time to imagine what might happen if she accidentally set off an explosion.
She heard someone approaching. Holding her breath, she flattened herself against a tree. Three clear whistles rang out, about a hundred feet to her left. She carefully got up and headed toward where she’d heard the sound.
Suddenly, someone grabbed Hannah from behind. She just stopped herself from screaming in time, almost dropping the explosives as a heavy hand clamped down upon her shoulder and turned her around briskly. Three other men jumped up from their hiding place in the undergrowth. They wore flat caps thrust down firmly on their heads and thick scarves wrapped around their faces, just allowing their eyes to show. She saw their apprehension at her presence.
“My name is Hannah,” she said hastily before anybody could react. “Henri sent me.”
The hostility around the circle calmed a little as they looked warily from one to the other, and then the apparent leader stepped forward.
“Where is Erik?” he questioned her.
“His house was raided. I was just supposed to transport the explosives from Ernst’s house. But when I got to Erik’s, the Germans were there. He managed to make contact with me and gave me directions to get here, as he was afraid he’d be picked up on the road.”
“You have the package?” demanded one of the others.
Her hand shaking, she held out the explosives wrapped in the rag. The leader nodded at her, taking them from her as the group moved away with haste.
The relief must have been obvious on her face because before he disappeared back into the undergrowth, the leader turned to her. And even though she couldn’t see his mouth, she sensed he was smiling as his eyes wrinkled. “You did well, Hannah. You did a good job,” he reassured her before he, too, left to follow the others.
Hannah took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she’d managed to do it.
She made her way back slowly through the forest, following the path she had created. She would still have to make good time to return before the curfew. Finding her doctor’s bag on the way, she re-strapped it onto her bicycle and headed toward the city.
Chapter 50
Ingrid tried to remain out of sight, but as she moved backwards, the heel of her stiletto caught on a branch and it snapped underfoot. The footsteps halted. A hand pulled aside the branches covering where she was hiding. She prepared to deal with the enemy, but was instead surprised to see a group of German soldiers in front of her.
She was momentarily relieved. Vi must have realized she’d made Ingrid late and decided to send Heinrich. She was dismayed, however, to see that it wasn’t Heinrich or his soldiers who had arrived. She had so hoped to tell him of the plot and watch his face as she described what she had done. These soldiers were the Gestapo.
The officer in charge looked suspiciously at Ingrid. “What are you doing here?” he asked brusquely.
She stood to her full height. “My name is Ingrid Held. I work for the Third Reich, in the offices of Heinrich von Strauss. There are Resistance members planning to blow up the train tracks from this location this evening.”
He peered at her with disdain.
She continued, sensing his skepticism. “If you don’t believe me, send your men to the tracks just up ahead. I believe they should be along any minute.”
He nodded to his men who headed off. But instead of being overjoyed or even grateful, he just peered at her with contempt. “Our men have been in the woods for a while. We have seen no one but you. What are you doing here, really?”
Ingrid was confused. “I told you what I’m doing here.”
In response, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and began marching her out of the forest.
“What are you doing!?” she yelled at him.
“We had an anonymous tip that a member of the Resistance would be working out here this evening, and you are the only person we have found.”
Ingrid attempted to shake herself from his grasp. “Do not treat me like this,” she snapped. “I am Heinrich von Strauss’s fiancée and—”
She never got any further in her conversation because just then, about a mile away, a loud explosion erupted. All of the soldiers froze, looking toward the noise as an enormous fireball and a plume of angry black smoke billowed into the air, obviously the fuel train.
The officer was livid. “We’ve been sent on a wild goose chase and you, Fräulein, I believe, are a part of it.”
He pulled her roughly to the roadway, gripping her arm so tightly, he was hurting her. He dragged her toward his car. Ingrid looked over at her own car and Heinrich’s driver, who looked on dumbfounded.
“You just don’t understand,” she snapped again. “My fiancé will be so angry with you when he finds out what you have done to me.”
“And the high command will be very angry with you when they find out what you have done to our fuel train,” he snapped back at her as he threw her into the car and slammed the door.
They traveled back into Amsterdam as the evening started to set in, and she was horrified to realize they were taking her to a place where they held prisoners; a cold, miserable stone building, that was dark and smelt of mildew. Heinrich is going to be furious, she thought.
They marched her down an endless corridor with nothing to warm it except gray light reflecting off the blue, chalky wall, giving the entire walkway a luminescent, eerie quality. Then they threw her into a darkened cell. The smell of urine and damp inside made her heave. “You will be so sorry,” she spat at the guard as he slammed the door shut and locked her in.
Chapter 51
As Hannah traveled home, her initial relief was replaced with an awareness of something she had not thought about before, something that in her determination had not even entered her head until now. Who would be traveling on the train? The driver? Other railway workers and soldiers too? When she’d set out to complete the mission, she hadn’t even thought about the impact of her actions, only the need and her compulsion to make things right in Holland. Now she was struck with a terrible thought that, somewhere out there, someone was about to die. Someone who maybe had children and parents. And she’d helped to murder them.
The immense sense of guilt almost overwhelmed her. She felt the weight of that and tried to imagine how soldiers on the battlefield felt having to deal with this guilt and loss on a daily basis. There was something so wrong about war, something so horrific and soul-destroying that she hadn’t ever contemplated, until now, as the senseless loss of life crushed her. On one side you were crippled by it; on the other side you were the perpetrator of it. There were no winners in this awful reality.
Putting her bike away in the workshop, she could have sworn she heard an explosion far away, but maybe it was just in her imagination. As she turned to close the door, someone grabbed her arm in the dark. But before she could react, the person stepped quickly from the shadows. It was Henri.
“Hannah, we have to talk.”
As soon as Josef saw the soldiers racing down his street, he knew something was wrong. He had been on his way home after getting a few meager rations as they had rushed past and surged up his path.
It had to be about Michael. Someone had seen him, heard him, reported something unusual. There was no other explanation. As he ran to catch up with them, he wracked his brains trying to figure out when he had been so careless.
Breathlessly, he made it to his pathway as they started to hammer on his door. Thrusting himself through the mass of heaving soldiers, he reached the door just in time to watch them crash through. A wave of gray uniforms poured into his house like termites. This was a very different search to what they had done before, the first day Michael had arrived. They careened from room to room, pulling out drawers, tearing down curtains, and smashing his possessions as they went. In shock, he saw his mother’s vase shatter on the floor, cast from th
e hand of a soldier as if it were litter to be discarded. He looked frantically around, trying to decide what to save. But he realized the only valuable thing he had was hidden in the attic.
Suddenly a stern voice greeted him from behind.
“Well, if it isn’t Professor Held.”
Josef turned to stare into the face of his enemy. Heinrich von Strauss marched toward him with all the intimidating pomp that his stature and uniform conveyed. The terrorizing Nazi that stood in front of him with such hate and anger in his eyes was very different to the one who’d been presented to him before. And Josef understood with a chilling realization that he had never really known this man.
The only word Josef was able to mumble out was, “Why?”
Heinrich was fast to spit back, “You know why! Because you are a traitor!”
The words lashed Josef like a slap in the face. Heinrich knew about Michael. There was no other explanation. He didn’t even try to defend himself because, in seeing a group of soldiers racing up his stairs, he immediately knew it was all over. There was no point in giving the appearance of innocence anymore. But he did want to see Michael one last time.
Sprinting up the stairs and reaching the landing, as he heard the thundering feet of soldiers as they headed up the staircase to the attic, he was momentarily halted by the devastation in his home. He was numb, paralyzed. Bedroom drawers were splintered like matchsticks and he heard one of his mirrors shatter into what sounded like a million pieces. He couldn’t believe it. After all they had done, after all they had come through, it was going to end like this. And when victory for the Allies, for Holland, was surely in their sights.
Within seconds of entering the attic, a soldier shouted back down to Heinrich, “In here, there is someone in here!”
A View Across the Rooftops: An epic, heart-wrenching and gripping World War Two historical novel Page 30
