The car parked outside an elegant white building, probably a hotel before the occupation.
The army officer opened Gerrit’s door. “Come with us.”
Surrounded by the three men, Gerrit proceeded inside. He’d heard of resistance fighters throwing themselves from windows to avoid revealing information or incriminating their friends, but the officer ushered him into a ground-floor room.
Just as well. Gerrit doubted he could do such a thing.
“Sit down, van der Zee.” The army officer pointed to a chair in front of a steel table, and he removed his cap, revealing his balding head.
“Yes,Herr Hauptmann.” He obeyed.
“I am HauptmannKlein,and this is Hauptwachtmeister Wölfle of the Geheime Feldpolizei.”
The military police and the secret field police, but Gerrit saw no torture implements. Klein and Wölfle sat across from Gerrit, and Schmeling sat behind Gerrit in the corner.
They had told him not to ask questions, so he stuffed his satchel under his chair and waited.
Wölfle raised a sardonic smile. “Are you nervous, van der Zee?”
Gerrit tried to mirror that smile. “Wouldn’t you be in my place? No one has told me why I’m here.”
Klein leaned bony elbows on the table. “Do you know a man named Charles Picot?”
“Charlie? Yes.”
“How do you know him?”
Gerrit rested his hands on his thighs, out of sight of the interrogators. “He worked on a cargo ship which transported supplies for OT. He showed us around the island—my friend Bernardus and me. We’ve become friends. Why do you want to know about Charlie?” Honest worry lifted his voice.
Wölfle tugged at the sleeves of his well-cut suit. “He tried to desert to our enemies last night. A patrol shot and injured him, but he’s evaded capture so far.”
Gerrit’s breath rushed out. “He tried to—he’s hurt? Oh no. Poor Charlie.”
Klein grunted. “You feel sorry for a man who defied Germany?”
“I feel sorry for a boy I know as a friend.” He kept his voice firm but calm.
“Do you know where he is?” Wölfle asked.
“No. How could I?”
“Where might he have gone?”
They’d already searched the Picot home. Gerrit tucked in his lips as if deep in thought. “His sister is a doctor. He’d—”
“Where else?”
“He has aunts and uncles here.” They were already expecting raids.
“Why would he desert?”
Gerrit puffed up his cheeks with air and blew it out. “He never said anything to me about desertion. He did lose his job after his ship was damaged in an air raid, and the food situation is rather bleak. I don’t understand. I thought he was on our side. Remember, Herr Oberbauführer? Charlie is the one who warned me when Bernardus tried to commit sabotage.” He glanced back at Schmeling.
Schmeling’s jaw shot forward.
“Ah, you see, van der Zee.” Klein smoothed his ring of graying blond hair. “That makes us rather curious. Kroon was a traitor, now Picot. Both known associates of yours.”
“You don’t think I...” Indignation cramped his voice, and he sent Schmeling a frantic glance. “Haven’t I always done good work for Organisation Todt?”
