“Some of the physicists have country houses, seaside villas—” She drew in a sharp breath. “Lyd-af-Lys.”
“Pardon?”
Else winced. The villa could hide dozens, but Hemming kept his secret for a reason. To open the home would put everything and everyone at risk.
She had to at least ask him. “I might know of a place. When do you need to know?”
“Immediately. We want everyone in hiding tonight if possible.”
Else glanced at the clock—one thirty. “I can’t call this person. I could either go and ask—or stay here and make copies.”
“Could I go? Who is it?”
Else nibbled her lip. How could she phrase it to keep his secret? “It’s Hemming.”
“Hemming?”
She rubbed the leather portfolio. “His aunt and uncle are caretakers for a villa.”
“I’ve never heard him say that.” A hard edge entered Laila’s voice.
They didn’t have time for explanations. “Do you know where the shipyard is?”
“I’ve seen it from the harbor. I can find it.”
Laila couldn’t very well walk in—and how could she entice Hemming out? Else’s fingers drummed out solutions. “At the gate, tell them—tell them you’re his sister Laila.”
“His sister?”
“His sister Laila. Say your name. Say you need Hemming to come right away. Say his mother was hit by a car and is in the hospital.”
Laila’s eyebrows soared. “That’s horrible. I don’t want to give the man a coronary.”
“His mother died years ago. He’ll know it’s a code.”
Laila let out a scoffing grunt. “Our Hemming will understand that?”
Else measured her words. “Tell him what you told me and ask if we can use Lyd-af-Lys—that’s the name of the villa. He’ll understand.”
Still she scoffed and stared.
Else pulled the portfolio to her chest. “By the time you return, the copies will be finished, and you and I can spread the word.”
Laila pushed back the chair and stood. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but ... thank you.”
After she left, Else stood too. Her stomach tightened. Would Hemming forgive her for compromising his secret?
Right now she had greater concerns—the lives of thousands, like Jørgen Wolff. Else rushed up to the lab.
At his desk, Wolff smiled at her. “Ah, Jensen. Did you find that article?”
“Not now.” As she relayed the warning, Wolff’s face grew ashen. “Do you and your family have someplace to stay?”
“I—I think so. Yes, I do.”
“Thank goodness. I need to mimeograph flyers to warn people. Would you tell people here? Warn anyone who is Jewish? Warn Bohr?”
“Right away.”
