situation he merely nodded in agreement. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t being defeatist, but was deep in thought. It still irritated her when Saul went into one of his uncommunicative moods. There had been far too many of those lately.
For a full minute Annika stood in front of the university buildings holding her bicycle, staring expressionlessly at the cobblestones beyond her front tire. Slowly she began to push the bicycle. Her movements were tentative, almost as if she was reluctant to go somewhere. After walking fifty metres, she swung onto the bike and began pedalling steadily.
For twenty minutes she cycled across Amsterdam, through streets lined with trees, arriving finally in front of a large building surrounded by a high brick wall with a crowded bed of red tulips at its base. At the gate, Annika did her best to sound authoritative when she addressed the young, freckled, blond man of about seventeen who manned the entrance. “I’ve come to see Mr. Van Zuiden. I’m his nephew’s wife.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. It’s very important. I must see Mr. Van Zuiden now.”
It was only then that Annika noticed the small brass nameplate discreetly nailed beside the control booth’s door: Samuël Van Zuiden, Diamond Merchant. Appraisals, Cutting and Sales. The building, with its manicured grounds, was immaculate; there was nothing industrial about it. It could have been a private school or an embassy. The young man looked at Annika suspiciously and indicated that she wait outside on a bench by the wall beneath a large chestnut tree. He picked up the telephone, spoke briefly, then hung up.
“He’ll see you now,” he told Annika. “He’s very busy this morning.”
Annika merely nodded her head in a chilly display of thanks and was led inside to a small, tastefully appointed office with a large desk and two leather armchairs. The pale green walls were lined with framed antique technical charts showing various cuts of diamonds. Samuël Van Zuiden came in a few seconds later. He was in his early sixties, with a grey Van Dyke beard, and dressed in a smartly cut dark suit.
“What can I do for you, Annika? We don’t see you or Saul very often. Is something the matter?”
“No, Uncle Samuël. I know the family should get together more often. You’re busy so I’ll get to the point. Nothing is the matter with Saul or me, and thank you for asking. We have refugees from Germany staying with us, Jewish refugees. They arrived two days ago with nothing but the clothes on their backs. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to find them work, something to help get them on their feet. Mr. Herschel is a lawyer. I’ve tried at the university, but everywhere I go, I don’t seem to have any luck. I’m beginning to think nobody cares. They’re absolutely destitute and they can stay with us as long as they wish to, but I know they want to be self-supporting. They’re proud people, Uncle Samuël.”
“And so when you have run out of places to go, you come to me. Does Saul know you are here?”
“No.”
“I see.” Samuël rubbed his jaw and said apologetically, “Please sit, Annika. You know what I’m thinking?” The two of them sat beside one another in the leather armchairs.
Annika nodded. “I know, we haven’t seen much of the family since we got married – ”
Samuël interrupted. “It’s good of you to show such concern for these people, Annika. I assume you want me to help you in this search of yours?”
Annika said nothing.
“I can tell you that there isn’t much that I can do for them here in my business. I have no openings, but I know some others who might be able to employ them temporarily.”
“Thank you, Uncle Samuël, this is such a relief.”
“Don’t thank me.” He patted her hand. “These are bad times; we have to do what we can. I wish there were more like you. These people, do they have children?”
“Three – two girls and a boy. All under the age of ten.”
“Well, they’re all better off here than back in Germany. God knows where that will end. I really do have another appointment to go to just now, but Annika, can I call you in a day or two? I’ll find something. It probably won’t be much and nothing like a lawyer’s job, but leave it with me.”
Samuël stood up. As he was showing Annika the door, he turned and touched her elbow. “You know, Annika, we really would like to see you and Saul some time. Families shouldn’t feud like this. Can you speak to him about it?”
“That would be nice,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t you come over some time; in fact, why don’t I call you next week and we can arrange for you to meet the Herschels? You know, for the first time in ages I think that things are going to work out.”
* * *
Northampton, 9 April 1940
COLONEL GEOFFREY HARRIS was in a three-piece suit and wore the striped tie of the Staffordshire Regiment. He chewed his lower lip as he walked across an enormous oriental carpet in the portrait-lined drawing room of Ramsford House in Northampton. He thrust his hand forward in greeting. “Rory, I’m awfully glad you could make it tonight; things are heating up faster than we predicted.” He was breathless. “I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but the Germans have just attacked Norway late this afternoon. I’m sure you’ve heard that they invaded Denmark this morning. From what I’ve heard, the poor old Danes are capitulating, and there’s scattered but fierce resistance from the Norwegians. Of course, all this changes things substantially for us.”
Rory merely nodded.
“You don’t seem surprised by any of this,” said Harris with a note of suspicion. “What do you make of the news?”
“I don’t think anyone predicted it would happen like you’ve described. Nobody expected they’d go after Scandinavia first. But there’s no question now. Hitler’s going to attack France and Britain next. For now, the Russians get a by.”
“I think you’re right. In fact, no news to you, a lot of the work that your group has been preparing for us seems to support that view. From what we’ve been able to determine, the Germans haven’t moved any divisions, or even so much as a major unit eastward for some time; and they’re still quietly moving equipment and supplies by train in and around their western garrisons and airfields.”
Harris fished in his jacket pockets for his cigarettes. “As you can see, things are changing and I wanted you to see this house.” He was jumping from subject to subject, but despite this, he now seemed less breathless, more in control. “What do you think of the place? So far we’ve got ourselves two of these stately homes. We plan to use them as training schools. This one’s the first. I think you’ll find once Jerry comes at us in earnest the government will be more agreeable about giving us the use of these places. They’ll make ideal training centres: they’re reasonably isolated, lots of bedrooms, a large kitchen, drawing rooms that can be used for lecture rooms, and with their grounds they all have an attached training area. Anyway, come upstairs. Crossley’s waiting for us. We have news for you.”
This was not the first occasion Rory had seen Harris agitated. He was an odd sort of individual. One day he was distant, icily professional and commanding, and the next he seemed tense and unfocused. Rory suppressed a sudden impulse to tell Harris that he thought he was over his head, that he had been wasting his time for months
