BRITTA LIES IN the cardiac intensive care unit at Northwestern Memorial. Catherine and Emma are outside her room. The doctor approaches. “Your grandmother is stable.”
“Thank God.”
The doctor nods. “This is the third time she’s been in here this year, but the first time she came in an ambulance.”
“Did she have a heart attack?”
“Well, not exactly. It’s her congestive heart disease. Her heart is working less efficiently. It’s just not as strong as it used to be, but at the moment she’s stable. We’ll keep her here for a little while. You can go in.”
An IV drips into Britta’s arm, a nasal cannula is delivering supplemental oxygen and her chest is wired up to the heart monitors. Britta lifts her head and looks sheepishly at Emma. “Like my friend Oliver Hardy used to say, ‘Here’s another nice mess I’ve gotten us into.’”
“The doctor says you should eat more and drink more water,” Emma says. “I’m going to start making you three meals a day!”
Britta smiles. “I’ll get too fat to wear my nice clothes.” Turning to Catherine, she asks, “Don’t we have to be in court this week?”
Catherine says, “I do, but you don’t. In two days, I have to submit our answer and affirmative defense. I think the judge will want to set a schedule for the rest of the case. Of course, Sparks will push for an accelerated case management order and a prompt trial.”
Britta thinks for a moment and then says, “I don’t want to you object to that. Set the trial as soon as you can.”
Catherine disagrees. “We’re not ready. We don’t have our proofs. We need more time to gather evidence, to put our case together.”
Britta’s expression is calm and peaceful, but it is determined. “We don’t have more time, Catherine. The proof is in my testimony and I need to be around to give it.”
Emma doesn’t like that answer. “You’re going to be fine, Bubbe. You’re a fighter. You’re the woman who paints walls in the middle of the night. Just get some nourishment and a little rest and you’ll be back on your feet as good as new.”
“Tell her, Catherine,” Britta says. “What happens if I’m not there for the trial?”
Catherine starts to wave her off. “I’m with Emma. Get yourself back on your feet. Let’s not have this conversation right now.”
Britta won’t be put off. “What happens if the case is called for trial and I’m not alive?” she asks again, more directly.
“The case would proceed against your estate, and without a witness we would most likely have to default.”
“And Hendricksen would be vindicated?”
“Well, I don’t know how much vindication you get against an empty chair, but yes, I’m afraid so. Your testimony is all that we have at this time. We don’t have another witness or any physical evidence to show that Henryks is a traitor.”
“If Liam finds something in Denmark, could he be a witness?”
Catherine smiles. “Depending on what he finds, but he certainly was not a witness to anything Henryks did.”
The nurse returns to the room and says, “We need to run a couple of tests and administer her medication. Could you give us a few minutes? Why don’t you two go and get a cup of coffee and come back in a little while.”
In the commissary, Emma says, “I think it’s a mistake to accelerate the case. Regardless of her weakened condition, she’ll want to come to trial and testify. We don’t have any admissible evidence at this time other than her testimony. So, she would come to court and with every last bit of energy she would tell her story in front of a hostile courtroom.”
Catherine shakes her head. “No, it won’t be hostile. The jury would love her, just like we do.”
“They won’t get to make the decision; it’ll never get to the jury,” Emma says. Her expression is sorrowful, and her lower lip protrudes. “I love my Bubbe so much, but her testimony won’t hold up. Sparks will be on his feet every five seconds yelling ‘Hearsay!’ So much of Bubbe’s story is based upon what other people told her. Lukas told her that the Hendricksens were informers. Knud Gunnison said he saw Hendricksen with the Gestapo at the drop zone. Britta said Ole was a member of the Blue Shirt Club, but we don’t have any proof of the club’s existence or that it was a counterinsurgent. I can’t let my Bubbe go into court and have every line of her testimony stricken. Sparks will play to the press and make a fool of her and she’d lose the case. That would kill her quicker than a heart attack. We can’t let that happen. Please don’t accelerate the case.”
“I understand,” Catherine says, “but she’s the client. I have to follow her instructions.”
On their way back to the room, Emma says, “All my life I wanted to grow up and be just like her. She’s smart, articulate, polished and dignified. Ever the consummate lady, and the strongest person I’ve ever known. And she goes out in the middle of the night in her overcoat and paints on the wall because she needs to set the record straight. We have to protect her, Catherine. We have to preserve her dignity.”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
As they approach the room, the nurse comes out and says, “Did you bring paper and a pen with you? Britta has asked me for paper and a pen. I think she might want to make her last will and testament. You’re her lawyer, aren’t you?”
Catherine nods. “But I didn’t bring any paper.”
“I can get you some,” the nurse says.
Britta is propped up slightly as she lies in the bed. “Did you bring a writing pad with you?” she asks.
“You already have a will, Bubbe,” Emma says. “I made one out for you last year. Remember? You signed it in Walter’s office.”
The nurse returns with several sheets of white paper. “There is a notary on the third floor. I can call her if and when you want me to.”
Britta smiles. “I don’t need another will; I need to finish my story. There are things I have to tell my lawyer and my granddaughter, and they will want to make notes.”
Emma looks at Catherine and both of them chuckle. “You see what I mean,” Emma says.
“LUKAS LEFT FOR Vejle on Tuesday afternoon. Tommy picked him up in his truck and off they went. Although she had tried a few more times, Grethe was unable to dissuade Lukas from going. This was the man she married, and she understood him well. She would have gone with him had it not been for Isabel and her responsibilities as a mother. She had her arms around his neck, and she didn’t want to let go. Lukas kissed Grethe and Isabel and left, promising to come back.
“Grethe sat vigil; she had been down this road before. She and I sat in the living room listening to the radio for any news, good or bad. The explosion, if it was successful, would have taken place early Wednesday afternoon, but as of the evening there had been no reports of any acts of sabotage, and gratefully, no reports of partisan arrests. Grethe and I began to worry. Did the mission fail? Were the boys arrested. Or worse? My father had a suggestion. ‘The report may have been censored. Dr. Best wouldn’t want news of a successful raid broadcast on Danish radio. Why don’t we try the BBC?’ He turned the dial and tuned into the BBC Danish broadcast. The familiar chimes of Big Ben were followed by ‘This is the BBC, London calling, John Christmas Møller speaking. Today British and American bombs rained on German forces in southern Italy. The distant sound of explosions was heard as far north as the Vatican.’
“We listened to the announcer describe war news in one location or another and then he said that brave Danish partisans had demolished a bridge in southern Denmark crucial to the passage of raw materials to Germany. That’s how we learned the mission had succeeded.
“The next morning, Danish radio reported that a bridge had been damaged by a gang of young ruffians, some of whom were taken into custody and were being interrogated.
“When Grethe heard that, she broke into tears. She was practically inconsolable. ‘I told him not to go,’ she said. ‘I knew this would happen. He’s in a wheelchair, for heaven’s sake. If anyone is in custody, it’s my Lukas.’ Then came a loud knock on the door. My father answered it to find the two Gestapo agents standing there. ‘We want to talk to Lukas Holstrum,’ one of them said. My father stayed calm and falsely said, ‘He’s sleeping. What is your business here?’
“‘Our business? It is to talk to Lukas Holstrum. Now go get him.’
“My father stood strong. ‘I told you, he’s sleeping. Now go away.’
“‘We don’t believe you,’ the agent said with a smirk. ‘We will see for ourselves.’
“My father stood strong and blocked the doorway. ‘We’ve been down this road before. The Gestapo has no right to come into a Danish house uninvited. And you are not invited.’
“A smile stretched the lips of the second agent, and he whispered in his partner’s ear. ‘Ah,’ the agent said. ‘Of course. You’re telling me that he’s sleeping because he’s not at home. Am I right? I think maybe he’s in Vejle or lower Jutland. That’s where he’d be if he was part of the criminal attack on our supply train and the murder of seven German patrolmen.’
“My father shook his head. ‘He’s asleep in his room. Please extend my sympathies to the Honorable Dr. Best for the loss of his shipment and his seven guards.’ With that my father shut the door.
“Late that afternoon, as the sun was setting, Tommy brought Lukas into the house. Grethe fell to her knees. ‘Oh, my God, you’re safe. I was sure they took you into custody with the rest of the group.’
“‘They didn’t take anyone into custody,’ Lukas said. ‘It was a total success. We completed the mission and didn’t lose a single man. The bridge was blown just as the train was crossing. Several of the Odense members came out of the forest and held the train guards at bay, while the others dashed back to their cars. A crossfire ensued, and that’s when the Germans were shot.’
“The next day, Werner Best demanded that the Folketing take up a resolution for mandatory imposition of the death penalty for anyone convicted of sabotage. The resolution failed. The only affirmative votes were from the six DNSAP members. Still my father cautioned us that the situation was growing more serious every day. Berlin was furious and insisted that Denmark be brought into line. The pressure was on Best and his German administration.”
The nurse returns to the room and shakes her finger at Britta. “That’s enough for today, Mrs. Stein. Doctor’s orders. You need rest and medication.”
“But I need to finish my story. You don’t understand,” Britta says.
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Catherine says as she gets up to leave. “You get your rest.”
Britta holds up her index finger. “That act of sabotage, blowing up that train, Danes regard that as one of the most effective acts of sabotage in the war,” she says proudly. “It caused more damage and created more disruption than other acts of sabotage.”
Catherine raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Was it Denmark’s greatest show of resistance in the war?”
“Oh no,” Britta says. “I will tell you that tomorrow.”