Evi thought she heard a tremor in the voice. “It is Evi. Evi Strobel.”
Another moment, then the door opened. “Evi?”
Evi smiled.
Zoe opened the door wider. “Evi, is everything all right?”
“Yes, yes,” she said., the door closing behind her. “I just – I needed to see you. I do not know where Mila Brouwer lives, so I came here with a request of the Resistance.”
Zoe helped her out of her coat. “A request?”
“Yes,” she pulled off her gloves and rubbed her cold hands together. “Daan Mulder is a leader in the council, yes?”
It occurred to her that Zoe might not know that Evi was fighting for the cause.
She pulled off the bright blue her cap Mam had made her for Christmas, shook her blonde hair into place, and assumed what she hoped was an earnest adult pose.
“Sit, please., Evi” Zoe said. “I have tea. Would you like some?”
She turned to put the kettle on before Evi could respond, then busied herself finding cups and saucers from a high shelf. “I don’t often have visitors,” she murmured.
The walls of the tiny flat were painted a pale green, and two braided green and white area rugs brightened the worn wood floor. Evi saw the upholstered chair that she and Mam had delivered in Leela Baakker’s truck. She sat across from it in an ancient wingback, the only other chair in the room.
In minutes, Zoe laid a tea tray on the table between them. Evi took the steaming cup.
“Now,” Zoe said, sitting. “Daan is one of the Resistance leaders,Ja. I am not sure I can help you, Evi, but tell me what it is you want.”
Evi leaned forward. “I am not sure if you know this, Zoe, but twice now, under Mila’s guidance, I have – I have helped to kill Nazi officers. I flirt with them in a tavern until they are drunk, then lure them into the woods, where Resistance shooters are waiting to kill them, take their uniforms and identification paper, and leave their bodies in a ditch.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “I had no idea…how old are you, Evi?”
She was tired of the question, but she told the truth. “Sixteen. Seventeen in February.”
Zoe took a deep breath. “Well. You are a very brave girl.”
“Mila says that as well.” Evi sat up straighter. “Do you know Mila Brouwer? She was the one who recruited me.”
“I know of Mila, yes. I know that she is involved with the Resistance.”
“Well, the last time I – the last time I grappled with a drunken German, I was very nearly…” she could feel her face redden. “The revolting pig was squirming on top of me before he was stopped by a bullet”
“Lieve god, Evi…”
“I was saved that night by an American airman. His name is Jacob Reese. His plane was downed in a Dutch field and he is in hiding with a Haarlem farm family. It was fortunate for me that he was walking about that night. His bullet saved my life.”
Zoe’s mouth dropped open.
“I should have been able to shoot the bastard, Zoe – and I would have if I owned a pistol. That is what I want from the Resistance leaders – a pistol and the training to use it.”
There was a moment of silence as Zoe leaned back in her chair. “I think I understand,” she said. “I understand the danger you face. You really are a brave girl, Evi. But you surely know that owning a weapon requires a permit – and that these days, they are harder to get except for a specific purpose – like training to become a police officer.”
“Some of our Dutch police are Nazi collaborators - “
“Yes, but many others work on our side – and in any case, they were almost certainly issued their weapons after they joined the force.”
“But –”
“Evi, even if you applied for a permit, you are not of legal age. I cannot think of a circumstance under which you could legally own a firearm.”