“I’m involved again.”
Gerrit raised one hand to hush his friend.
Bernardus raised one hand to hush Gerrit’s reservations. “In France.”
“France?”
“Something’s wrong here in the Netherlands.” Bernardus mashed his lips together. “Too many arrests. I think the Gestapo has infiltrated the resistance groups.”
Gerrit groaned. Thank goodness he’d retired from that line of work.
Bernardus fiddled with the tin model of a catapult on the side table. “Remember Pierre Lavoie from university?”
“Yes.”
“His construction firm in Paris needed a geologist, so they hired me last summer. The job allows me to travel all over France. To meet people. I’ve met men drawing maps and diagrams of German fortifications to send to the Allies.”
Gerrit’s stomach hardened. “You shouldn’t tell me this.”
“Yes, I should. We need you to—”
“Absolutely not.”
Bernardus raised one eyebrow of pale blond. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“I don’t need to.” Conviction kept his voice low. “I won’t get involved again.”
“It’s time.”
One shake of his head. “Look at all we did, all we risked—for nothing. We spoke out against the Germans, and they’re still here,stronger than ever, more oppressive than ever. We spoke up for the Jews, and the Germans are deporting them by the trainload to camps in the east—men, women, little children.”
“Yes, but—”
“All those good men and women on our side—they’re dead. They’re in concentration camps. They’re in hiding.”
Bernardus’s gaze narrowed to a pinprick. “Or they’re too scared to lift their heads.”
Gerrit drew back his chin. “I’m willing to risk my life. But only if some good will come of it.”
“Which is why I’m here.” Bernardus set his elbows on his knees. “We want your experience as a civil engineer to draw diagrams and maps.”
Gerrit let out a scoffing chuckle. “I doubt the Germans would let me close enough to their fortifications.”
“They would if we were employed by a firm contracted with Organisation Todt.”
“Org—absolutely not.” The German quasi-military organization built gun emplacements and defensive works along the Atlantic coast.
Bernardus shifted in his seat. “My French firm doesn’t qualify for a subcontract with a German OT firm, but the German firms are desperate. Most of their men are in the military, so they need men like us.”
Gerrit stared at his friend, but Bernardus still stared back. “You want us to work for—I’d never.”
“I know this sounds like a wild plan, but—”
“Wild, yes. Helping the Germans build fortifications that prevent the Allies from invading? When an Allied invasion is the only thing that can save us from the Nazis?”
Bernardus sat back and rubbed his hand over his chin. “They’re building them with or without us. And very possibly with us as forced labor. At some point they’ll conscript us to dig ditches or work in a factory in Germany—where we could do no goodwhatsoever. Or we can use our professional skills and my resistance network to send intelligence to the Allies.”
Gerrit’s mouth tightened. “While wearing a German uniform.”
