“I am. I was pleased to see theOrmerlisted in the convoy.”
Charlie set aside the coiled line. “May I put your bags in the cabin?”
“Yes, thank you.” Gerrit handed him his duffel bag but patted the satchel over his shoulder. “I’ll keep this one. It contains three bottles of insulin.”
Charlie’s jaw sprang open. “Insulin? How?”
“I explained the situation in Jersey to our family apothecary. He offered to sell me some but said I needed to keep it cold.”
Charlie stared at the leather satchel. “How...”
“I visited my favorite antique shop.” Sadly, the owner’s stock ofthe mechanical metal toys Gerrit collected had been confiscated, to be scrapped for the German war machine. “I bought an apothecary jar, filled it with ice, and packed the insulin inside. Your sister may keep the jar or dash it to pieces.”
“This won’t be like the reams of paper. She’ll know where the insulin came from.”
“I think her concern for her patients will overcome her pride.” Gerrit held no delusions that this would make Ivy think better of him, nor was that his aim. He only shared her righteous anger at people dying for want of what should be a common medication.
Charlie kept gaping. In his shirtsleeves.
He was never supposed to remove his jacket except when making the exchange.
Gerrit’s stomach tensed. “Aren’t you ... chilly?”
“Ripped my jacket, left it in Saint-Malo for mending.” Charlie’s voice and his gaze dipped low.
Ice crackled in Gerrit’s veins. Something must have gone wrong in the exchange. “I have a suit jacket you can wear if you’re cold.”
“I’m fine. If I’m not busy...” He lifted his face, and hesitation cramped his gaze.
“I’ll be on the deck.” They might be able to speak in private.
He left Charlie to his work and headed to the stern of the cargo boat, where he chose a spot in the corner, out of the way. Dozens of passengers boarded, mostly German soldiers, and Gerrit grumbled. He might have to wait days to find out what had gone wrong.
If only Gerrit or Bernardus could have made the exchange while on the continent on leave. But they couldn’t. Only one courier, and only Charlie knew the exchange procedures.
Had Gerrit missed a crucial detail? But how could he control what happened in France? He couldn’t. Nor was he meant to, and his groan disappeared in the rumble of engines.
The boat pulled away from the dock and into the harbor, leaving the ancient walled city. Leaving the continent.
Tensions had been high in Amsterdam, but Easter with hisfamily had been pleasant. Moeder had filled him with his favorite foods—as much as she could with rationing. Vader never once mentioned his disappointment with Gerrit leaving the family firm. And his sisters, Anke and Myrthe, had been in excellent spirits.
Six cargo boats traveled in a close pack, ringed by three German torpedo boats to protect against Allied attack by air or sea.
France shrank to a dark band, and blue seas reflected blue skies, a perfect day for sailing. Despite the fine weather, over time the other passengers abandoned the deck for the cabin.
Two hours out to sea, Charlie joined him at the rail.
Gerrit glanced around in an innocent manner, using his old resistance skills. No one stood in earshot, especially with the racket of the engines.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Gerrit asked in his lowest voice.
“A bit.” Charlie clasped his hands on top of the railing. “I went to my usual place, but the jacket wasn’t where it should have been. And there was a man—it didn’t feel right. After all, what man wears a hat in church?” He winced. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’ll forget it.” Surely Saint-Malo had dozens of churches.
Charlie twisted to face Gerrit. “Since I’ve already said it, a priest is always there lighting candles. He never speaks to anyone. But today, he spoke to the man in the hat, rather louder than necessary, asked if he could light a candle for him. The man looked annoyed, pulled his hat down lower. I think the priest is in the network. I think he was calling my attention to the man, warning me.”
Gestapo. Gerrit’s fingers dug at the railing. This was why he or Bernardus should have been the ones taking the chances, not a youth. “What happened?”
