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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YAY FOR ANOTHER CHAPPIE! This is honestly just a filler chapter (that I'm not super in love with), because I'm kind of at a loss right now as to how I'm going to move the story a long without things progressing too quickly.. Let me know what y'all think! I love your funny comments and feedback! <3
Are you coming?" Josef's voice called from the other side of her desk. Mila looked up from her typewriter, her fingers still clicking fiercely against the keys as she smiled at Josef.
"Just finishing up this..." She trailed off, her eyes darting back down, typing out the last few letters on the page of notes she had been copying. "Page," She finished her sentence finally, sliding over the type carriage on the typewriter and pushing her chair back, standing to her feet. Heaving the typewriter into its case, she zipped it up and carried it with her as her and Josef made their way down the long hallway leading to the conference room where meetings were held.
"Are you sure its a good idea? Us walking in together?" She turned to look at him when they reached the door. It was her first day attending the security briefings, as well as her first day back at work since their relationship had been made public. The last thing she wanted to do was give General Eichmann any reason to doubt her ability to separate work from pleasure.
"You could go in a few seconds before me," Josef said, an amused smirk turning up the corners of his lips. "If it'd make you feel better."
"Well wouldn't that look a bit staged?" She said seriously. "Like we meant not to come in together?"
"Mila..." He trailed off, taking her hand in his. "You're overthinking it." His smirk widened and he pushed against the door, pulling her inside. "Come on." Letting go of her hand, they walked to there respective places around the table, Mila at General Eichmann's right hand, and Josef a few seats down.
"Let's get started," General Eichmann said, standing to his feet once the last man had arrived and taken his seat. "Gentlemen, Ms. Vanderwall will be attending all of our meetings from now on," He began, gesturing to Mila. "I dare say with a bit more structure, we could all be home by four o'clock each afternoon."
"I'm all for that," Lieutenant Hoffmann said, his eyes trained on Mila, a small smirk on his lips. She looked away, warmth flooding her cheeks as his eyes lingered on her.
"Yes, well," General Eichmann cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Hoffman, why don't you start us off."
"Of course sir," Lieutenant Hoffman said, the smirk still evident on his face though Mila dared not look up from her typewriter. "The labor camps have been working tirelessly. The supply total as of yesterday is 800 pounds of grain, as well as 200 crates of ammunition from our factories."
"Good," General Eichmann nodded. "Shultz, what word from Berlin?"
"They'll be expecting our shipment on January ninth sir," The same tall, skinny man she knew from the morning meetings spoke up, pushing his cotton top hair off his forehead as he read from the paper in front of him. "Men will be stationed at the border in Bocholt to receive the supplies and transport it to Essen. From there, the plan is still for the shipments to be flown to Berlin, and then to Stalingrad."
