“Papiere,” the officer demanded.
Rick handed over his papers. His ticket was tucked inside his pocket. Prayerfully, the man wouldn’t ask for it as well—because if it was taken away? Well ... things could get much more difficult in an instant.
“Wohin reisen Sie?”
Why did the officer want to know where he was traveling? And why did the question hold a sharp edge? He opened his mouth to answer, but a scuffle in the back of the train escalated to shouting, and a woman’s screams pierced the air.
The officer shoved Rick’s papers back to him and shouted commands to remove the passengers from the train as he marched away.
It took several minutes for Rick’s heart to return to normal as he hid behind his newspaper. Not until the train reached full speed, and his ticket and papers had been examined one more time, did the tension in his shoulders ease a bit.
Rick set aside his reading material and inspected each person in the car. All seemed safe for the moment. He slumped against the seat, but relief wouldn’t come.
The barren landscape blurred before his gaze. Escape had come at a high price. The violence of the Gestapo was well-known. Could he be the only one who made it out? Rick rubbed his face, his eyes heavy. It was the middle of the day, but a nap sounded like heaven.
No. He needed to stay alert. Safety was an illusion until this train crossed the border into Holland.
Contacts for the British spies were disappearing in droves. But it was worst in Germany. And Hitler had full control of the military. His power and influence were growing at an alarming rate. Add to that the anti-Semitic laws he’d enacted in the last few years since President Hindenburg died, which had changed the landscape ofDeutschland. Many of Rick’s Jewish friends and contacts had been driven from Berlin, prohibited from doing their jobs or even sending their children to school. Jewish families weren’t even considered citizens of Germany anymore.
His chest burned. The injustice was horrific. How could so many citizens be content to ignore Hitler’s ever-growing power? Did they really not know of the hold he had on their part of the world? Germans were a people proud of their heritage and country.
The train whined to a stop, and Rick glanced out the window as the conductor came through, announcing the last stop before Holland. Several people stood and gathered their things, leaving Rick, one family, and a single woman alone in the car. He stood for a moment, stretching his arms over his head. The movement felt wonderful, tension easing from his muscles. Only a few more hours to go.
He sat again and looked out the window. The trees were bare, stark against the slate-gray sky. Families moved across the platform, bundled in warm coats and thick scarves. He watched one family in particular gather their luggage. A small boy was nestled in his mother’s arms as a girl, no older than seven, clutched the back of the mother’s coat. The dad had two shabby carpetbags clenched in his hand, and with a jerk of his head, he directed his family across the wooden planks and into the station.
Were they fleeing Germany? Or were they just one family among many heading home, oblivious to the lies the Nazi Party was feeding them?
The train lurched forward, jerking Rick’s gaze away from the building. He needed to get out of these morose thoughts. Dwelling on the Nazi Party wasn’t great for his mental state. Sure, he was tasked with finding out everything Hitler and his cronies were doing and how to stop them. But that task peeled back evil after evil.
Rick shoved his hands in his hair. How could he do his job and shield his heart from the horrors of what he uncovered?
It was impossible.
The writing was on the wall, but the Nazis knew how to appease people by tailoring speeches to their audience. Many were blind to what was really happening as they held out hope for a better future. A future where Germany was a player on the world stage again. Though how Hitler planned to accomplish that by leaving the League of Nations was a mystery.
The thought of what it might be like in the future if Hitler had his way caused a chill to race up his spine. If Rick’s informants were correct, Germans would soon be prisoners in their own land. Revulsion twisted his stomach. In addition to losing informants, they’d lost too many allies and agents the last three months. Good men and women trying to save the world from another war.
And a maniac.
Rick’s thoughts drifted to Harold. Was he still alive? Maybe it was better for his friend if he didn’t survive to see his beloved country wither away even further. He winced. Cynicism and dark thoughts like that weren’t helpful either. Time to focus on the job.
Did they have any chance to stop the growing evil before it was too late?
London, England—Tuesday, February 15, 1938
“I know you’re there.” Chaisley lifted her fingers off the F#m7 chord and turned her head toward the entry. Her right foot eased off the sustain pedal and her lips tipped upward.
“You didn’t resolve to the major chord, so Iknowyou know I’m here. If it were anyone else, you would have finished the melody while inviting them to enter. But since you know how much I dislike dissonance and unresolved melodies, you like to torture me.” Melanie, her assistant and dearest friend, chuckled. Footsteps clicked on the marble floor approaching the piano on the right. “The day youdon’tknow I’m here is the day I shall worry that you are ill. Here, hold out your hand.”
Chaisley did and something cool plopped into it. She closed her fingers around it. Paper. An envelope. She moved her thumb. Ah ...twoenvelopes. “Thank you.”
“The top one is from your grandmother. The other seems to be from a fan. The tour manager sent it over. I already asked Louise to have some tea sent up to your room.”
Melanie’s unmistakable scent of lavender and lemon teased Chaisley’s nose as she turned toward the sound of her friend’s voice. Her shoulders relaxed. That her friend knew her so well and looked after her ... Her eyes burned as she fought back tears. What was wrong with her?
The clock chimed eleven times. Perhaps six hours at her piano this morning perfecting her latest composition was a bit much. Especially since she hadn’t moved from the bench once in all that time. One thing about being blind was that her body had its own clock and didn’t worry about when the sun came up or set. She always asked to be awakened by six each morning, but most days she was up well before that.
It would be heavenly to take a break and relax over her grandmother’s words. “Thank you for arranging tea. I assume the other letter isn’t in braille?” She stood from the bench and clutched the letters to her chest.
