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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ANOTHER CHAPTER! WOOHOO! I'm in love with this chap tbh... I'm excited for Mila to be doing more spy stuff! :D
Mila strode down the sidewalk, her heels clicking furiously as she hurried in the direction of the War Office. She glanced down at her watch; 11:15. There wouldn't be anyone at the office at this time of night ... Not even on his latest night, had Josef stayed past 10pm.
Glancing behind her, she picked up the pace. The street was deserted, the street lamps shining incandescently on the vacant cobblestone. Still, she didn't want to linger too long and risk being seen if someone were to come along.
Grasping Josef's keyring in her pocket, she turned down the side road that led to the back entrance of the War Office. Seeing as that was the way she and Josef had left on nights he stayed late, she had decided that would be a better plan than trying to enter through the front door. Pulling out the ring, she fiddled through the various keys until she found the one she was looking for. Slipping it into the lock on the door, she twisted it, a light 'click' sounding as the door opened. Glancing over her shoulder one last time, she slipped inside, locking the door behind her.
She glided down the long hallway that led from the back entrance to the main workroom floor, careful to step on her toes so the heels of her shoes wouldn't click as loudly. She was sure she was alone in the building, but she still didn't want to take any chances by making more noise than necessary.
Finally reaching the main office, she paused with bated breath, listening intently for any signs she wasn't alone. When she heard none, she crossed the workroom floor to General Eichmann's office. Grasping the door knob, she jiggled it - locked. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, she thought with a sigh.
Pulling out the hairpin that had been holding back the curls from her face, she slipped it into the keyhole. She had never picked a lock before, but surely it couldn't be that difficult. Twisting the pin inside the lock, she jiggled the knob. After what felt like an eternity of wiggling the pin around from left to right and up to down, she heard a click.
Turning the knob with a sigh of relief, she slipped inside the office, closing the door lightly behind her. She stepped around General Eichmann's desk, the red oak bathed in the dim glow of the moonlight that was shining through the window of the office. Sifting through the various papers and files on the desktop, her eyes landed on her target.
Picking up the familiar red folder Lieutenant Hoffmann has given General Eichmann earlier that day, she opened it, scanning the pages thoroughly. There was going to be a prisoner transfer from the camp in Amersfoort to Vught. She furrowed her brow in confusion ... She didn't remember hearing about a labor camp in Vught. Was it new? She continued reading ...Apparently a large group of Dutch Resistance being held in the city jail would be transferred there as well.
Closing the folder after she had read the report in full, she placed it back in its original place and turned for the door, a deflated feeling coming over her. She had hoped the report would contain more than a few details about a prisoner transfer. She would pass the information to Harvey and Catherine nonetheless ... Maybe it was more important than it seemed.
