Camp 30 (14 page)

“Hi!” Jack called over the strained chords.

The man nodded and gave a nervous little smile but he didn't stop playing.

“Nice accordion!” Jack called. “You play well!”

The man nodded his head again but didn't say anything. He just kept playing. He even got a little bit louder and, unbelievably, worse.

“Have you been playing for long?” Jack asked.

Why was Jack being so talkative? That just wasn't like him. The man kept on playing.

My attention was caught by movement just off to the left. A man walked out of the building, followed by a second man, and then two more, and two more after that. They turned to the left and quickly walked away. They seemed to be in a hurry. So much of a hurry, in fact, that nobody even looked our way. It was like they didn't notice us, and we were only ten feet from the door.

The accordion man suddenly stopped playing. He took the accordion off his chest and slung it over one shoulder.

“Time to dinner,” he said in broken, heavily accented English. That must have been why he hadn't answered the questions—his English wasn't very good.

“Good bye-bye,” he said, bowing from the waist, then turning and rushing off down the path to follow the others.

“What time is it?” Jack asked.

I looked at my watch. “Almost four-thirty.”

“That's what I thought. First dinner serving isn't until six. So why was he rushing away?”

“Maybe he didn't know the time, or maybe he just wanted to catch up to his friends,” I suggested.

“Friends? Those guys didn't even look in his direction. It was like they were working hard not to look at him, or us,” Jack said. “Didn't you notice?”

“Now that you mention it.”

“And did you notice anything about the accordion player?” Jack asked.

“Just that he seems to be getting worse.”

“I don't care about how he's playing. I'm trying to figure out
why
he's playing.”

“Maybe he just likes the accordion,” I suggested.

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Something's going on in this building. I don't know what, but something.”

“Yeah, so shouldn't we tell Bill? Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing?”

“I will—when I've got some real evidence. Right now I've got nothing but a hunch, and if I tell him that I'll just look like a jerk!”

“You're not going to suggest something stupid like going inside, are you?” I asked.

“Of course not.” I felt relieved. “Not now. Too many people around. But I'll look for our chance.”

I knew he would, and that made me even more nervous.

“Let's get out of here so nobody thinks we're suspicious,” Jack said. “We gotta get home so we can contact Bill and tell him about the map.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JACK DROPPED HIS BAG
onto the corner of Hans's desk, causing the coffee cup at the edge to shake precariously.

“Be careful!” Hans exclaimed as he grabbed his cup before it could spill.

“Sorry,” I said, offering the apology that I knew Jack wasn't going to be giving.

Jack turned his bag inside out. I caught sight of the newspaper tumbling out with all the letters and parcels and tried to look elsewhere. I wasn't supposed to see it because it wasn't supposed to be there. It was something that Bill had given to us—along with the map that the captain had asked for a few days ago. Bill had asked us to slip the newspaper in the bag and pretend that somehow it had accidentally gotten in there without our knowing.

Prisoners weren't supposed to have newspapers, but this, of course, wasn't a real paper. It was identical to
the regular
Toronto Daily Star
except for a few articles and a few pieces of information—or I guess pieces of misinformation—that had been inserted.

Bill didn't tell us what they'd changed, and we didn't ask. I could only imagine. It was amazing to think that they could change a newspaper like that, but the more I knew about this spy stuff, the more I realized there wasn't much they couldn't do.

Hans muttered as he tried to organize the mountain of mail. I started to add more letters from my bag when I noticed he'd stopped mumbling. I looked down at him and saw that he'd noticed the paper. He swept a bunch of letters over top to cover it up and I looked away.

“Is Otto around?” Jack asked.

“The
Kapitän
is in his office,” Hans said. “Is he expecting you? Do you have an appointment?”

“No appointment, but he'll want to see us.”

“I'll see if … Just go and knock on his door,” Hans offered.

I realized he didn't want to go and look himself because he was still trying to keep the paper hidden from our view.

We walked over to Otto's door and knocked.

“Kommen Sie!”
came the voice through the closed door. He sounded official and angry.

“That means you can go in,” Hans called from behind us.

The actual translation was simply “Come.” I knew that. Jack and I had been having our mother teach us German words at night. She was so happy we wanted to learn the language. If she'd had any idea why, she wouldn't have been nearly so pleased. The more we understood, the better our chances of hearing something we were better off not knowing.

Jack opened the door. Otto was seated at his desk, papers strewn about. He looked up, smiled and motioned for us to enter.

“Good day, boys. I hope you have stopped in to invite me to take an ice cream break.”

“We brought you something,” Jack said. He pulled the folded road map out of his pocket.

Otto saw what it was and his expression brightened. “Please, sit … Um, George, could you close the door first?”

I was only too happy to close the door. The last thing in the world I wanted was for anybody to see us handing over the map. It had been awful going through the gates, knowing what Jack was carrying. If the map had been discovered, Jack was going to tell the guards he'd just forgotten he had it, but I still felt nervous.

“Sorry it took so long,” Jack said. “The map was at the bottom of the last box to be unpacked.”

“Always the way,” Otto said.

Of course the map hadn't been in any box. A whole
week passed before Bill got the map to us—it wasn't like they'd picked it up at a gas station. They'd altered the map in some small but important ways.

Otto took the map and unfolded it, spreading it across his desk.

I felt a wave of anxiety. The map looked like a regular Ontario road map. It even had a couple of rips along the folds, and one of the corners was tattered and torn to make it look as though the map could have been in a box in our house. It certainly looked real to me. The question was, would Otto think it was real?

As I sat there looking at him examining the map, I wondered what would happen if he found out what we were doing. I had this vision of him sitting bolt upright, telling us he knew this was a forged map and we wouldn't be leaving the compound alive.

“So we are right here,” Otto said, touching the map at what I assumed was Bowmanville. I turned my head sideways to try to see the map more clearly.

“And just down the road is Toronto … less than an hour away.” He looked up. “Highway 2 is the best route, correct?”

“It goes from here to Whitby and then to Toronto,” I said.

“Whitby?” he asked. “I know that place—that is where they send our laundry. Strange you should mention there.”

I knew I'd made a mistake. I shouldn't have mentioned Whitby. But how could I get out of it now?

“We have an aunt who lives there,” Jack said. “It's not much of anything, but we've been there before. Why would they send your laundry there?”

“That is a question I have asked myself,” Otto said. He looked back down at the map. “This is such a vast country. Why, this Lake Ontario is almost as big as the entire country of Germany. It is like an inland sea. Can you imagine the havoc it would cause if a German submarine could penetrate this far? But of course that is not possible.” He tapped his finger against the map. “There are rapids … here … here … and here that make boat traffic on the St. Lawrence River not possible. If this were Germany, we would build canals to bypass them.”

“This will never be Germany!” Jack snapped. I saw him stiffen in his chair.

“Oh, Jack, please … no offence was meant. It is just that our country is old and we have conquered our rivers. And, as an engineering professor, I find the rapids of professional interest. Have either of you been to this place … this Cornwall?”

“Never,” I said.

He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a ruler. He placed it against the map. Then he put a finger at the end and moved the ruler to the other side of his finger.

“It is no more than 250 miles. With a fast car it could be done in five hours.”

He looked up and seemed almost surprised we were
there, as though he had got so caught up in the map he'd forgotten about us.

“Your arm,” Otto said, pointing at Jack. “You no longer have the cast!”

Jack smiled and held his arm slightly aloft. “I got it off yesterday. I can't believe how white my arm looks.” His other arm was tanned from the summer sun.

“You must be pleased,” Otto said.

“Really pleased. Now I can do things again,” Jack said.

I hadn't actually noticed it slowing him down at all. In some ways I was sad to see it go. Wearing the cast was almost like a reminder of what could happen if things went wrong—almost like a warning sign on the road. Now, without that sign to slow him down, there was no telling what Jack might do.

There was a sharp knock at the door and Hans poked his head in.

“Einen Moment, bitte, mein Kapitän … in privat.”

“Excuse me.” Otto got up, circled his desk and left the office, closing the door behind him.

“What's that all about?” I asked.

“Probably about the newspaper. Go and stand by the door and listen,” Jack said.

“Wouldn't it be better if you went? You know more German than me.”

“I know a lot more German than you, but I've got other things to do.”

Jack stood up and walked behind Otto's desk.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Isn't it obvious? I'm looking on his desk.”

“But you might get caught!” I whispered.

“There's
less
chance of me getting caught if you stand guard.”

He was right. He was wrong to be doing what he was doing, but he was right about it being safer with me on the lookout. I jumped to my feet and went to the door. I could hear them talking.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Jack lifted the map and looked at the papers underneath. What did he think he'd find there—especially if it was written in German and he only had a few seconds? This made no sense, and—I heard footsteps coming closer!

“Jack!” I leaped back into my seat as the door opened, but there was no way Jack could get back in time! He had turned around and was looking out the window as Otto came back into the room.

Jack turned his head. “You have a really nice view,” he said.

“It is nice if I do not look too far into the distance. Then I can see the fence and the guard tower. Even a beautiful cage is still a cage.”

Jack walked around his desk in one direction while Otto walked around in the other. They both sat down.

“There is one more thing we need to discuss,” Otto
said. He pulled a wallet out of his pocket. “I had said, what … ten dollars for the map?”

“You said five, but we don't want that,” I said. “Our mother would kill us if she found out we took money.”

“Your mother knows about this map?” he asked. He sounded concerned.

“No, we didn't tell her,” Jack said. “George meant that Mom wouldn't want us to take money from somebody who's treated us so well.”

“Yeah. Just think about all the ice cream we've eaten,” I added.

“Sharing that with you has been my treat. Here,” he said as he pulled out a five-dollar bill. “You must take it or I will feel badly.”

“I don't know,” Jack said.

“But I do.” Otto reached over the table and practically stuffed it in Jack's hand. “If you did not take it I would feel badly if I were ever to ask you for things again.”

“We only have the one map,” I said.

“One map is sufficient. Other things … things that may seem silly but would be of interest.”

“What sort of things?” Jack asked.

“A ticket, even used or torn, from a theatre.”

“Why would you want that?” I asked.

“The ticket stub would help our theatre company make a ticket that looked more Canadian for our production. Other things would just be souvenirs for when we go
home—trinkets, dry-cleaner tickets, flyers or advertisements. Picture postcards showing places like Niagara Falls. Stamps—even cancelled stamps—for our Stamp Club.”

“I didn't know you had a Stamp Club,” I said.

“Oh yes. And there are other things. You have no idea how much we miss the simple pleasure of reading a newspaper.”

“Newspaper?” Jack said. “I have one right here in my bag.” He opened his bag and pretended to look around for a newspaper he knew wasn't in there. “It's not here. Maybe it dropped out when I dumped the mail.” Jack started to get up. “I'd better go and—”

“I shall see. Stay seated!” Otto said as he jumped to his feet. He hurried out the door.

I looked over at Jack questioningly—why had he done that? Bill would be really mad if he'd gone to all that work and we ended up with the paper instead of the prisoners.

“It is here,” Otto said as he came back into the room, waving the paper over his head. He handed it to Jack.

“Thanks. It's the Toronto paper. I bought it at the store today … but you can have it if you want. I can always get another one.”