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Briar

1942

“I f you have something to tell us, you need to make it quick,” Cadence said.

“Let the man speak,” I said.

Peter attempted a smile. “I appreciate the thoughtful way you have dealt with my situation. I’m sorry to put you in such a position.” He looked around the room at our faces. “Truly. I was raised in a home much like this, full of kindness and generosity.”

“We need to move this along,” Cadence said.

“So you should know, before you surrender me to the authorities, that they will no doubt debrief me.”

“Just say you’ve been here only a few hours,” Cadence said.

“They will know the truth. The dryness of my clothes. A complete medical evaluation. My blood-oxygen levels. They will know I have been out of the water for more than just a few hours. They’ll know you did not turn me in immediately.”

“We can say we were trying to figure out how to hand you over,” Cadence said. “That’s the truth.”

“But that is only part of the problem,” Peter said. “They will perform a rigorous interrogation.”

“So?” I asked.

“They are highly trained at finding the truth, and it will be in my best interest to give it to them.”

“I don’t understand,” Cadence said.

“They will want to know every detail about the U-boat I came from.”

Cadence leaned toward him. “Fine. Tell them. That doesn’t implicate us.”

He looked at me. “I’m afraid it does.”

A spike of fear went through me. “How so?”

“As the ship’s medic, I had a unique vantage point, privy to conversations that took place while I was ministering to the sick and wounded on board. Part therapist, part confidant to the ship’s captain.”

“And?” I asked, steeling myself. Did they have some sort of surveillance? Somehow know about the metal box? The classified documents I took?

“What you may not realize is that, while our main mission is to sink Allied ships, we gather intelligence out there offshore. The radio operator intercepts everything he can—often just bits of conversation between fishermen on their radios or routine police calls we’d all joke about. Like a mean turkey on the loose. But they were particularly interested in Sailfish Five.”

My whole body went cold. How could I have been so careless?

“What is Sailfish Five?” Cadence asked. She turned to me. “ Briar? ”

I met her gaze, my heart pounding. “Mr. Schmidt’s shortwave handle.”

“He’s been dead for more than a month,” she said. “Who’s using it now?”

I looked away. “I maybe talk to his friends once in a while.”

Cadence pulled me around to face her. “About what? And please don’t tell me it’s anything sensitive.”

I tried to walk away. “Just things.”

She tugged me back to her. “It’s against the law to use a shortwave radio right now, Briar.”

The German sat up straighter. “The radio operator transcribed a conversation about some impending war maneuvers taking place on these beaches soon.”

Cadence wrapped her arms across her belly. “Oh, no, Briar.”

“I said very little.” I raced through what I’d said to Mr. Schmidt’s Squad—just three conversations that referenced the maneuvers, two with detailed descriptions of the amphibious vehicle they’d been testing in the dunes.

“So what?” Bess asked. “I’m sure they pick up chatter all the time.”

“Everyone’s heard that some sort of war games are happening,” Cadence said. “It was in the paper. I wrote about it in my column.”

“Maybe so,” Peter said. “But the conversation the captain referenced included precise descriptions of military practices and schedules of deliveries, including a new type of landing craft. They noted it was a young woman making the report.”

McManus would have reason to come and take the radio and search the whole place. He’d find the German box and the classified pages. But the fact that they’d been out there listening this whole time vindicated me. I wasn’t crazy. Or a liar.

Gram squeezed in on the sofa next to me. “Oh, Briar.”

“I obviously didn’t think anyone was listening.”

“You never think,” Cadence said. “How could you be so stupid, chatting with your old-man pals? Showing off your war smarts?” She paced. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Peter turned to me. “I’m not accusing you. Just explaining what I will need to include in the course of my interrogation.”

“Are you saying Briar will go to jail if you tell them all that?” Gram asked.

“You’re blackmailing us,” Cadence said. “Of course. Is that part of the Mennonite religion, too?”

Peter kept his gaze on me. “I don’t want to implicate you, but if I’m turned over to the authorities, I must. My grandmother and daughter need me, and sharing this information is my only hope of surviving. Perhaps the judge will be lenient if I cooperate and show my allegiance by sharing sensitive information.”

“What would happen to you, Briar?” Bess asked.

I ran my fingers through my hair. “Arrested for sure. McManus already suspects me of something. Adults go to Leavenworth.”

“Maybe you’d go to some sort of juvenile facility,” Bess said. “Tom would be dishonorably discharged.”

“He had nothing to do with it,” I said.

Cadence stepped closer to me, her face flushed. “It is your own hubris that’s landed us here, Briar. Maybe prison would do you some good.”

Gram suffered one of her little coughing fits and then said, “Stop that. This is your sister. ”

“What now?” Bess asked.

Cadence paced again. “Now it’s either turn him in and Briar goes to jail, or we keep him here, under the nose of the army, and probably all go to jail soon. Nice choice, sister.”

Gram took my hand in hers. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“There’s only one thing we can do, Gram.” Cadence went to the door. “And we’re going to have to be quick about it.”