Stan and O’Malley sat down on a bench with Sim. The other men busied themselves with handball and quoits. Sim bent down and traced a line with a stick in the dirt.
“I have everything lined up. We get away tonight. A British colonel is giving a lecture in the big room at nine tonight. I have fixed the checker. We’ll get away while that is on.” Sim did not look up.
“Hans is the checker?” O’Malley asked.
“Yes.”
“Sure this isn’t a trap? Things have been working too good around here,” Stan said.
“This will not be easy,” Sim answered in a low voice. “The chances are about even we’ll be shot before we get clear of the wire and the guard lines. These guards do not shout at you, they shoot and then yell.” Sim laughed shortly. “But I’d rather be shot than rot here.”
“Sure, an’ that’s me, too,” O’Malley agreed.
“We’ll be ready,” Stan answered.
“You cannot take anything with you,” Sim warned. “Now we have to break up. The guards are watching us.” He got to his feet and walked away.
“I think he’s acting nuts for the benefit of the guards,” O’Malley said.