The year is 1942 and Europe is at the height of World War Two. Mila Goldstein, a Dutch Jew living in occupied Holland, has signed on as an informant for the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). However, days before her assignment, a wounded Ge...
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I was feeling a little inspired today, so I decided to sit down and write the next chapter. I hope you guys like it. Don't forget to vote and comment!
Mila sat alone in the breakroom, a half-eaten sandwich and a cold cup of coffee on the table in front of her. She had taken her lunch break nearly thirty minutes ago, though she hadn't been hungry, deciding, if nothing else, she could use the time to catch up on some reading.
She flipped the page of her book, bringing the cup of coffee up to her lips absentmindedly. Her face contorted into a grimace as the cold liquid entered her mouth. Swallowing hard, she sat the cup back down with a scowl. A laugh sounded from across the room. Mila looked up to see Josef standing at the door, leaned against its frame.
"Not a coffee drinker?" He asked, stepping inside.
"Not when it's cold," Mila replied, giving him a polite smile.
"Ah..." Josef smirked as he propped himself against the table. "You're a fan of Dickens?" He added, nodding towards the book she held. Mila glanced down at the copy of Bleak House she had been reading.
"I've always liked the classics," She shrugged, dog earing the page she was on before closing the book and standing up.
"Where are you going?"
"I should probably be getting back to work," Mila replied, grabbing her leftovers and throwing them in the garbage bin. A hand clasped around hers, pulling her backwards. Mila looked down, to find Josef's hand clutching her own.
"There's something I've been wanting to ask you," He began, his hand still intertwined with hers. "I never got the chance to thank you properly for saving my life."
"That's not necessary," Mila cut in, pulling her hand away from his.
"I disagree," He pressed on despite Mila's interruption. "So ... I'd like to take you out to dinner."
Mila drew in a deep breath, "Mr. Fischer..."
"Josef," He cut in, "Call me Josef."
"Josef," Mila began again, "I'm not sure that would be such a good idea."
"Why not?"
"I- I mean, we ... work together," Mila stammered, warmth flooding her cheeks. "I just don't think it would be a good idea. I wouldn't want to get in trouble."
"With Fred?" Josef chuckled, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips. "He's just a private who takes his job a bit too serious."
"He could still fire me," Mila retorted.
"No he can't."
"And how do you know that?" Mila asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Because you haven't even been here a month and you've managed to impress General Eichmann ... He likes you - and he's not a man easily won over," Josef replied, his smirk widening.
"Well-" Mila began.
"And..." Josef continued, ignoring her attempt to argue, "During the entire time you've been here, you've managed to evade me every time I've intended to ask you out."
"Well – I ..." Mila stammered, flushing a bright shade of red now.
"It's dinner, not a marriage proposal," Josef smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
Mila bit her cheek trying to suppress the smile that threatened to cross her lips. "Just dinner?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Just dinner," Josef replied. Mila paused, contemplating his offer.
"You can pick me up Saturday at 7:30," She said finally, grabbing her book from the table and walking towards the door."
"Is that a yes?" Josef called from behind.
"Don't be late," Mila called back, leaving Josef standing alone, a grin plastered across his face.
~
"Let me get this straight ... You're thinking about going out on a date with a German officer?" Harvey sneered.
Mila had arrived at the Lingard's house that evening for their scheduled Saturday meeting. She had been sitting now for nearly an hour listening to Harvey berate her.
"If you would just listen to what I'm trying to tell you," Mila cut in for what felt like the fifteenth time. "And for the last time, I'm not thinking about it, I've already said yes."
"Harvey, let's just hear her out, okay?" Catherine spoke. She had been sitting there but hadn't said an entire word the whole time. Though Mila guessed she would've had something to say had she been able to get a word in edgewise around Harvey. "Mila, you must've had a good reason for accepting this invitation, so what is it?" Catherine continued, looking to Mila expectantly.
Mila drew in a deep breath. "I've been trying to avoid him, like you said," Mila nodded in Harvey's direction and he gave a low grunt, though he made no effort to interrupt her this time. "But, he's been very persistent and, for some reason, Mr. Fischer has taken a liking to me ... So, I figured why not use that to our advantage?" Catherine and Harvey looked at her, a puzzled look on both of their faces. "He likes me ... trusts me," Mila pressed on, "What better way to get information than from someone who wouldn't think twice about giving it to me."
"No," Harvey cut in, his tone sharp and serious. "This idea of yours ... What you're suggesting ... The most experienced agents ... People who have spent their lives training ... Even they can't do a job like this successfully one hundred percent of the time."
"Mila, he's right," Catherine began, "What you're wanting to do takes more than just relaying information. It takes everything you have. Your emotions ... Your feelings. All of that can so easily become involved in a job like this. And it can cloud your judgement before you even realize it. Can you say, without a doubt, that you won't develop feelings for this man? That you can completely and totally detach yourself? Because if you can't ..." Catherine trailed off.
"Because if you can't you're going to get yourself killed ... or worse." Harvey cut in. Mila looked at the pair of them. Harvey's expression was stern, as it usually was. But Catherine looked concerned.
"You two don't think I've thought about all of this," Mila began, "But I have. I know what I'm getting myself in to. And as for the dangers ... I've seen firsthand what the Germans do to spies. Or have the pair of you forgotten I watched my father and brother take a bullet to the head?" She added harshly. Catherine and Harvey exchanged a look.
"You've made up your mind, haven't you?" Catherine asked, sighing.
"Yes," Mila replied defiantly.
"If you're doing this, you are to send word after every interaction the two of you have. I want updates on everything," Harvey said, rising from his seat. Mila nodded. Harvey heaved an exasperated sigh. "Now, I'm going to have a tall glass of scotch." With that, Harvey left the room, retreating back down the hall.
Catherine rose from her seat, Mila rising as well. When they had reached the door Mila turned the knob, attempting to open it but Catherine's hand caught hers.
"Be careful," Catherine said, her hand squeezing Mila's.
"I will," Mila replied, placing her other hand on top of Catherine's. "I can do this."
