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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Here's a short chapter for you guys, because I was feeling inspired to write it before I pull a 12 hour shift at the hospital the next three days (pray for my sanity, lol). I'm really excited for the direction this story is going ... I feel like we're at a long awaited turning point! :) Let me know what ya'll think!
Mila climbed the steps to the Lingards' front door, wrapping lightly against the wood. She had left work as soon as that afternoon's meeting had adjourned, and had walked the short distance to the Lingards' home. The door opened, revealing Catherine's petite frame.
"Mila?" Catherine asked, the surprise of Mila's impromptu visit evident on her face.
"Can I come in?" She asked, stepping inside when Catherine moved aside.
"Is everything okay?" Catherine asked, furrowing her brow in concern as she shut the door behind them.
"I have some new information," Mila began, moving past the usual pleasantries and skipping straight to the business at hand. After her run in with Lucas and the other Resistance members, she had wanted to waste no time giving Harvey and Catherine the information she had gathered from her late night visit to the War Office. With the transfer happening the following week, there was still time for a rescue effort to be organized. Maybe the missing family of the Dutch Resistance members, as well as the labor camp prisoners could be brought to safety. "There's going to be a prisoner transfer from Amersfoort, to a new camp in Vught," She began once she had sat down in the sitting room, Harvey and Catherine seated across from her in their usual places.
"What?" Catherine asked.
"We can rescue them-," Mila continued without acknowledging the Lingards' confused expressions.
"Mila, slow down," Catherine interjected again.
"We have the exact time and location ... Just like the supply transports," She continued on without missing a beat. "You can get in contact with your people," She said, directing her attentions to Harvey now. "We can help them."
"Mila, we can't," Catherine shook her head, exchanging a knowing look with Harvey.
"What do you mean we can't?" She furrowed her brow, realizing for the first time since she had sat down that Harvey and Catherine didn't seem to share her enthusiasm for this newfound information.
"I met some Dutch Resistance," She said, trying to make them understand. "Their family members were taken on Christmas. They're going to be taken to Vught next week. We can get them back to their loved ones!"
"Wait, what?" Catherine asked in disbelief. "When were you speaking to Dutch Resistance?"
"It's a long story," Mila shook her head, not necessarily wanting to divulge the details of her break in attempt in full.
"It doesn't matter. We can't intervene," Harvey cut in.
"Why not?" She asked, furrowing her brow.
"If it was our men, or allied troops, we could maybe organize a rescue mission but-," Harvey began, but she cut him off.
"But what?" She asked, anger rising up within her. "Because they're Jews and Resistance their lives somehow matter less?"
"That's not what he's saying Mila," Catherine interjected.
"Not in so many words," She said, her tone icier than she had thought it would be.
"You don't understand," Harvey shook his head dismissively.
"Oh, I understand perfectly," Mila countered, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep her cool.
"No..." He shook his head, annoyed. "You don't. If we acted on every piece of information we received, where would we stop? Where do you draw the line?"
"Not at the innocent lives of women and children!" She replied indignantly, standing to her feet now.
"You can't save everyone Mila," He sighed exasperatedly.
"No," She shook her head. "But these people can be, and you don't care! You're choosing to do nothing ... You're no better than the men who put them in that camp to begin with," She spat out, her tone dripping with disdain.
"Mila!" Catherine began, but Harvey waved her off.
"You think I don't care, but I just see the big picture," Harvey began, leaning forward in his armchair, his tone deathly calm. "Something you obviously can't do ... Open your bloody eyes Mila and see what we're doing here!" He slammed his fist against the side table, his voice booming now. "Say we were to organize a rescue mission for those prisoners, and it went wrong. What happens to them, and the millions of others like them, when the people fighting this war from the inside are captured and killed? What happens then Mila?" He asked, clenching his jaw in frustration.
Grabbing her purse from the chair, she turned for the door. She had had it with this damned job. She had wanted to make a difference ... To help people. But how could she do either of those things when the very people she worked for could turn a blind eye so callously.
"Is that all you had for us?" Harvey called behind her.
"That was all. Am I free to go?" She asked, turning around to face him.
"Remember what you're here to do," Harvey said, his eyes burrowing into her's.
"I remember perfectly," She said flatly, returning his gaze with a glare of her own. Opening the door, she stepped out into the bitter air without so much as a goodbye.
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