Page 3 of Midnight on the Scottish Shore

3

Hamburg, Germany Monday, March 24, 1941

Cilla tapped the Morse key at a quick pace, transmitting a message she’d enciphered herself.

Leutnant Fleischer sat close beside her at the desk at the Abwehr training school in Hamburg, so he could learn her “hand,” her unique style of transmitting. If the British captured an Abwehr agent’s wireless transmitter and used it, men like Fleischer would know. “Never forget to use your security key, Fr?ulein van der Zee.”

“Nein. I know how important it is.” She finished her message. She’d been instructed to insert the word excellent in every message. If she omitted it, the Abwehr would know she’d been captured and was transmitting under duress. Cilla faced Fleischer and widened her eyes. “The last thing I’d want to do is send false information.”

“Ja.” His handsome green eyes grew solemn. “That is worse than no information.”

Yet that’s what she planned to send them—no information at all.

“Be careful, Fr?ulein.” He set his hand on her forearm. “I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

She thanked him with a slow bat of her eyelashes. His crush did help her get through training—although the program was ridiculously easy—but she didn’t want to build up false hope.

Fleischer showed off his disarming grin. If she gave him the chance, he would flatter and indulge her. She would have liked him if he weren’t a Nazi.

The door opened, and Hauptmann Kraus entered, the man who served as Cilla’s “handler.”

Kraus never trumpeted vile Nazi sayings, and Cilla almost hated to cross him by disappearing when she arrived in Britain.

Almost.

Kraus removed his Army officer’s cap, revealing his ring of brown hair threaded with silver. “How’s our star pupil?”

“The brightest of our stars,” Fleischer said.

“Oh, you two.” Cilla flapped her hand at the men.

Kraus gave her the twinkling smile that reminded her of her father.

Cilla’s chest clenched. No one back home knew her plans. Hilde, her parents, Gerrit, her friends—she’d told them her company had offered her a position in Paris, a thrilling opportunity. Soon they’d worry when letters failed to arrive, but it couldn’t be helped.

Now Hilde had no one to watch over her. Why hadn’t Cilla thought through that part of her plan?

“Come, see the letter she wrote.” Fleischer brought the letter in Cilla’s handwriting to the heat lamp, and Kraus hovered to watch the message in secret ink emerge.

Cilla rolled her shoulders to relax them. The past few weeks of training had been challenging. The easy part was learning to use ciphers and secret ink and the wireless and memorizing her cover story. The difficult part was acting as if she believed in their cause, as if she intended to spy for Germany. And she had no relief. At least in the Netherlands, she could speak freely at home and with her friends. With Dirk.

Her chin hardened. If she’d stayed in the Netherlands, she would have died too .

“Excellent. So clear and legible.” Kraus held up the letter and smiled at it. “Are her lessons finished for the day?”

“Yes, Herr Hauptmann.” Disappointment colored Fleischer’s words gray.

Kraus laid down the letter and gestured to the door with his cap. “Come, Fr?ulein. I’ll walk you to the canteen for your dinner.”

“Thank you, Herr Hauptmann. And thank you, Herr Leutnant.” Cilla smiled at her trainer and followed her handler.

“Your training is almost complete.” Kraus set a leisurely pace down the hallway. “I feel confident sending you across.”

“I feel confident too.”

A frown lengthened his round cheeks. “Don’t be too confident. That’s how agents get caught.”

Cilla shrugged. “I’ll have no trouble blending in as a Dutch refugee.”

“Some of our agents have simply disappeared. We are certain the English captured them and are trying to turn them. Their silence speaks to their honor.”

Someday, Kraus would attribute Cilla’s silence to honor, and she murmured her approval.

“Other agents have been caught and failed to succumb to torture,” Kraus said. “They were hanged.”

She smiled at his fatherly concern. “I won’t get caught.”

His stubby eyelashes fluttered. “For me, your life is my greatest concern. But Germany has a far greater concern, that the English would torture you and turn you to spy for them.”

She opened her mouth to repeat that she wouldn’t get caught, but Kraus needed more reassurance. “That’s why you gave me a security key.”

Kraus glanced into an open office and held up one finger until they’d passed. “Some are concerned you might be swayed, given your time in England.”

“Nonsense.” Time to play her role with verve. “My time in England taught me to despise the English. They always treated me as inferior because I was Dutch. Germany must win this war, and I’m honored to do my share.” Perhaps she should have given the “Heil, Hitler” salute and clicked her heels, but her acting had limits.

Kraus’s frown stretched deeper.

Cilla clucked her tongue. “Oh, Herr Hauptmann, you’re sweet, but you know me. You know I’ve learned my skills. Please don’t worry about me.”

He raised small eyes of pale blue, sad but determined. “We cannot allow our agents to be turned by the enemy.”

“Of course not. That’s why you train us so well.” Actually, the training had a great many holes, particularly regarding English customs, but their ignorance served the Allied cause.

Kraus’s steps slowed, and he frowned at his shoes. “You have family in the Netherlands. Your parents. A sister.”

A chill tickled its way up Cilla’s arms. “Yes.”

“Some in the Abwehr wouldn’t hesitate to ... if you turned, your family would be sent to a concentration camp. Don’t cross us, Fr?ulein van der Zee.”

Her throat thickened, and she shoved out her words. “I won’t.”

“We have a large network of agents in England.”

Her smile wobbled more than she liked. “Yes, you gave me names to contact in an emergency.”

“They will have your name too.” His forehead puckered. “The Abwehr can send them to check on you if we have any suspicions that you’re spying for the enemy. Any at all. They will not hesitate to eliminate a traitor.”

The chill—her arms trembled, and she crossed them over her stomach. All the more reason not to get caught by either side. “I would never betray you, Herr Hauptmann.”

Yet she planned to do just that.