The Informer (Sabotage Group BB)

7

It is ten minutes to six. Riding her bicycle along the four lakes in central Copenhagen, the pedals scratching the chain guard, and the wind making it a struggle to get anywhere, Alis K knows, she’ll be at the hospital on time; she has to.

If you are not on time, you don’t come at all. Lingering at the gates for everyone to notice is far too dangerous. Someone might call the Hipo or the Gestapo, trying to make some easy money. You simply can’t let yourself be noticed. An assignment is instantly canceled if you’re not there on time.

Stopping at the back of the municipal hospital, she gets off her bicycle to avoid being a few minutes early. She pulls it down the side street along the wall surrounding the hospital, then heads towards the main gates on Oster Farimagsgade.

This will be her fourth termination. Her fourth kill. She’s calm, but excited—focused. It’s no game killing a Hipo officer.

Hipo is short for Hilfspolizei—the helping police. It is a Danish police force, formed to keep some law and order in the city, after the Germans discharged the entire Danish police force a few months ago. The original Danish police force had continued as the law enforcement of the country for the first four years of the German occupation. That ended september the 19th 1944, when the Germans rounded the Danish police force and almost two thousand police officers were straight to the German concentration camps. The Hipo HQ is located at the old central police station. Four men in each car and running on gasoline, the Hipo patrol the city in cars with the doors removed to let the officers disembark the vehicles quickly to return fire in the frequent event of an attack. Being a member of the Hilfspolizei, you’re automatically placed on the death lists of the resistance. The Hipo are feared and hated far worse than even the Gestapo and the SS.

At exactly 6:00 p.m. Alis K is leaning against her bicycle in front of the twin main gates of the hospital. The boy is not there. For a short moment she’s close to wishing he will not show up at all. She has no concerns whatsoever of killing a couple of Hipo herself. It’s a job that needs to be done. However, she is not all that excited about having to guide a big boy in the art of murder.

But no more than two minutes later, he halts his bicycle in front of her.

“My name’s Alis K,” she says. “From now on you will be Willy. Come on, let’s push the bicycles for a bit.”

He nods. His eyes sparkle. A little boy at Christmas. Starting to walk, she flashes him a smile.

“Your first assignment is tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.” Finding the pistol inside her purse, she slips it into his coat pocket. “Don’t!” She grabs him by the wrist, pulling his hand away from the pocket. “It’s a gun. Made in Denmark, it’s a very poor gun. However, it was the best I could get at this point. You can keep it, but try to get a better one.”

Now his eyes widen. He’s starting to get nervous. He is realizing this is for real. This is now; this is it.

“What’s the plan?”

Alis K starts walking again. The first man she killed was a pharmacist in the northern suburb Hellerup. Last year at springtime. Discovering his neighbor providing shelter for a wanted saboteur, he called the police. Jens, who was a police officer back then, managed to warn the saboteur before they came for him.

Handed a gigantic Belgian revolver, Alis K was ordered to kill the pharmacist the same night. She took the bus to Hellerup and shot him down at closing time as he left the pharmacy by the back door on his way home to his family.

The revolver was so heavy that she had to hold it with both hands. Nevertheless, the recoil almost tore it from her hands as the first shot failed to hit him. She remembers the way his double chin was shaking and his big, blue eyes went wide; holding his small, fat hands up in front of him like they could offer any protection against her bullets.

He dropped his bag and wet his pants, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t try to run. He just stood there with his hands in front of him, pissing his pants. Alis K didn’t have the strength to just pull the trigger. She had to cock the hammer before being able to fire the revolver again. It felt like forever to do so, and when she finally aimed the gun at the pharmacist the second time, he just mumbled: “Oh no!” Then she shot him right in the face, dropped the revolver, and walked away.

Even though the loss of the revolver made Jens furious, he did grow quite fond of using her as an assassin. Maybe because she went all numb in those violent situations. She was there, she acted, she did what needed be done, but she felt nothing doing it. You learn stuff like that being a prostitute.

“You are to shoot a Hipo,” she says to Willy. “We have to be at his place in an hour.”

Looking at her with saucer-like eyes, his hands start to shake. “I didn’t know…I have an appointment a quarter past seven.”

“You don’t have to be a part of this if you have any concerns about it. Nothing will happen; we won’t force you to do it. We just split up and go home. Like we never even met.”

“That’s not it.” He stops to look around. “I just need to cancel my appointment, that’s all. I’ll get in trouble if I … It’s my boss. I promised to renovate his garden shed. I’ll lose my apprenticeship if I don’t show up. I have to make a telephone call.”

Walking in silence for a while, Alis K glances at him. “Rule number one—”

“Always be on time. I know. It is dangerous to be noticed lingering in the streets.” He seems tense now. The nerves are building. It’s not good. It’s her responsibility to ensure this thing goes down as planned.

Smiling all warm now, she takes his head between her hands, caressing him. “Rule number two then: Never speak to anybody about what we are doing. Never. Never ever.”

“Good. Tell me, what are you are going to say to your boss?”

“I’ll tell him my mother’s had an accident and …”

“He knows your mother?”

“No. They met when I got the apprenticeship, but nothing more than that.”

“Anybody else in your family? Your father? He knows your dad?”

“No.” He looks away.

She tightens her hands around his head. “Any shared friends or acquaintances?”

“No.”

“All right. There’s a telephone booth at the corner over there. You can make the call from there. Hurry.”