TWENTY

Erik arranged for Helena to stay with his mother that night, since Mrs. Lund lived alone. She lived in a beautiful, almost fairy-tale cottage that rested near a stream that ran down from the Copenhagen Harbor. After watching her husband getting beaten by the Nazis and then dying, along with other people in the factory who refused to stop their slowdown, Mrs. Lund knew exactly what her son was doing now and was proud of him. She greeted “Helena” with open arms that night. She wasn’t told about the name “Anna.”

Early the next morning, Mrs. Lund served Helena breakfast. “I have tea or coffee … whichever you like.”

“Coffee, please.”

“Good. And do you like rye bread?”

“Very much.”

“Good, because I have fresh rye bread with some cheese or jam, and then some Danish pastry. Is that good?”

“Mmm, yes,” Helena said.

They sat down together and started eating breakfast. Helena was about to speak when they heard a soft knock on the door. Helena didn’t know if she should quickly disappear, but Mrs. Lund said, “It must be Erik,” and she got up. But when she opened the door, Eva Simonsen was standing there, next to the tall blond man with whom she’d been at the hotel the night before, but now he was wearing his Nazi uniform. Eva wore an acrid smile. Two Nazi soldiers were standing behind them, just outside the open door. Two other soldiers were standing on each side of a black Mercedes-Benz limousine. All four of the soldiers held their rifles at the ready.

The blond man and Eva Simonsen entered the kitchen, leaving the door wide open.

“I hope we’re not disturbing you, Anna,” Eva said. “You remember Major Brenner, don’t you?”

“I remember his beautiful blond hair,” Anna said. “And I also remember my dear friend, Eva. Do you have any idea what might have happened to her?”

“I think some Jews killed my sister, Helena, when all she wanted was to look inside their fishing boat. So now I would like to kill a Jew. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I doubt if it happened that way to Helena, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway,” Anna said.

“No, I wouldn’t. Good morning, Mrs. Lund. How nice to see you.”

“Anna, come with us right now,” Major Brenner said.

“Yes, I’ll come. No violence, please. May I say good-bye to Mrs. Lund, who knows nothing of the things we’ve been talking about?”

“Go ahead,” he said as he moved closer to her.

Anna embraced Mrs. Lund, kissed her and then spoke in Danish: “Farvel kaere frue … tak for alt.” (Good-bye, dear … thank you for everything.)

“You didn’t even eat much of your breakfast,” Mrs. Lund said.

“May I wear my jacket, Major? I think it’s rather cold today,” Anna said.

“Where is it?” Major Brenner asked.

“Just over that chair.”

“I’ll get it,” the major said as he went to the chair and took Anna’s jacket. “Now we go,” he said as he took hold of Anna’s arm and walked her to the doorway.

When Eva, Anna, and Major Brenner walked out of the house the major saw that one of his soldiers was kneeling on the side of the Mercedes-Benz. “Was zum Teufel machst du da?” (What the hell are you doing there?)

“Reifenpanne. Ich werde es sofort beheben, Herr Major.” (Flat tire, sir. I’ll fix it quickly, Major.)

Submachine guns suddenly blasted Eva, Major Brenner, and the four Nazi soldiers. Erik, Mathias, and Mads came rushing out from behind separate bushes. Erik knelt down quickly to feel the pulses. “Dead!” he said with a smile. Then he got up and looked at Anna.

“Hello, there! I thought that rotten Nazi might do something like this,” Erik shouted as he began taking off Major Brenner’s uniform.

“How nice to see the three of you again,” Anna said. “Erik, what are you doing with him?”

“I’m taking all of the uniforms from these swine; they might come in handy one day. Then we dump their naked bodies into the Copenhagen Harbor for a nice, cold swim. I even told young Mathias here that he has to be a gentleman and not look at the dead lady when she’s naked, so now he’s fixing the flat tire that he stuck his knife into.”

Mrs. Lund came out of the house with a smile on her face. “I knew my son would save you,” she said. “I knew it. Now come into the house Anna, or Helena, or whatever name you want, and eat your breakfast. I made that Danish pastry especially for you.”

“Hey, Mama Lund!” Erik hollered. “When we come back would you also make a little breakfast for Mathias and Mads and your son, Erik, if you happen to remember me? We are also cold and hungry.”