Else looked at Laila with surprise, but her roommate nodded. If Laila were arrested and interrogated, Else’s contact—her “cut-out”—could be compromised too. “I see.” Else’s voice sounded thin.
The man’s hazel eyes grew intense. “The delivery is the most dangerous part of your job. You must be vigilant without looking vigilant. You must suspect everyone without looking suspicious. If anything feels wrong, do not make the drop.”
Else’s throat tightened, but she shoved out her words. “I understand.”
“Everything must be perfect—the location, the code phrases, the person. If anything violates protocol, do not make the drop. Tell your friend, and we’ll investigate.”
“All right.”
He held up an ink-stained finger. “Don’t ever forget, your cut-out will also be vigilant and suspicious. Don’t lead an informer to your cut-out. Don’t make a mistake in your codes. We will not tolerate sloppiness or recklessness.”
Her fingers worried the strap of her purse. “I won’t let you down.”
“Can we trust you?”
Laila huffed. “I wouldn’t have recommended her if—”
“Can we trust you?” His gaze pierced Else, as if probing her character, courage, and loyalty. “Not just that you won’t betray us, but that you won’t do something stupid that will get us all arrested.”
“You can trust me.” Else spoke with more conviction than she felt, but as she spoke, the conviction of her words filled her heart.
“Good.” He held out the slip of paper.
Although her fingers quivered, she wrapped them around the note.
Brave earlier.
17
WEDNESDAY, JUNE9, 1943
In the shipyard canteen, Ove Nyholm reached the punchline of his joke. Henrik took a bite of his smørrebrød so he wouldn’t laugh too soon. Nyholm had started on Koppel’s crew on Monday, and his friendly and boisterous ways made him popular.
When the men laughed, Henrik waited a beat, swallowed, and joined in.
“Who wants to join me for a beer tonight?” Nyholm’s grin rearranged his ample freckles.
“I’ll come.” Tom Rasmussen elbowed Nyholm. “I’ll bring a baby bottle for you.”
All of eighteen years old, Nyholm took the teasing with a laugh. “I’ll drink you under the table. Who else is coming?”
Half accepted, half declined, and Henrik picked at his sandwich.
“How about you, Andersen?”
Henrik popped a herring into his mouth and shook his head.
“You’re married?”
“Nej.”
“Got a girl?”
“Nej.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t like girls?”
Henrik pinned the man with the look he’d used to intimidate opponents when rowing crew. “I likewomen.”
