A/N: I still do not own any of TSOM.

And I want to give a big thank you for all of the reviews and encouragement. Special thanks to missqueenlillian, Dr. Cason, von F, pepperdennis, Shahrazad63, foreverliesl28, Trapper II, Bluebird 88, ForeverJulie, Maxisback, and FarmerLiz.

Your reviews and encouragement help me keep writing.

Georg stood up while Johanna ushered Ernst Schmidt, as he introduced himself, into his office.

A hundred thoughts rushed through Georg's head. This was Max's friend – how had he known where to find him? How was Max? Surely this Ernst would be able to tell him about Max. Was Max in danger? If Ernst could find him here in Dorfli, who else might be able to find him? What was so important that Max had to find a way to contact him? Could he trust Ernst? If so, how far could he trust him?

All of these thoughts, and more, raced through his head but his face remained impassive, even welcoming.

As Ernst Schmidt sat on the other side of the desk Georg quickly sized up this new man. He was shorter and a little more rotund than either Georg or Max, and obviously older as his hair was all silver. However, Georg thought he could see a friendliness and honesty in Ernst's eyes. 'Well, let's see what he has to say for himself,' Georg thought.

"So, Herr Schmidt, how do you know my old friend, Max?" Georg finally asked.

"Ernst, please" the older man responded. Georg nodded but did not offer the same first name basis. He wanted to be on his guard, and he wanted this man – even if he was a friend of Max – to know he was on his guard.

Ernst seemed unfazed. "I, like Max, am an Impresario," he responded. "I seek out musicians of talent …"

"And exploit them?" Georg asked with a wry smile as he allowed himself to feel, for a moment, how much he missed his old friend.

"I would prefer to say that I help them. I help them find the credit and acclaim that they deserve."

"I see," said Georg, though he didn't really see much at all about why this man was here yet. That explained how Ernst knew Max, but not why he was here.

"I, uh, understand that your whole family is quite talented, quite a find. That you have seven children, all of whom sing beautifully, and that your wife is a very talented musician who sings extraordinarily well," Ernst continued.

For a moment Georg was shocked and then livid. This was why Max had sought him out and sent a friend looking for him? To continue to try to make money off his family? The anger surged in him even more strongly. The time for exploitation, even in good humor, had past. He had barely gotten his family to safety, Europe was starting to boil around them, and God only knew what was happening in Austria. And yet Max was, as ever, thinking of himself and what he could make off of the Von Trapps.

Still, Georg's face remained impassive, if slightly more steely. "I'm afraid that Herr Detweiler misled you," he explained. "My family does not sing in public. We did once when our lives and our freedom was at stake. We will not do so again. Not for Max and certainly not for you. You can tell Max that at least has not changed."

Ernst remained seated and undisturbed, though Georg had risen to his feet to show him out.

"I'm sorry to have started off badly, Captain," he said calmly. "That is not why I am here. I merely said that as a way of introduction."

Georg felt the anger start to drain slowly out of him but some confusion set in. When would this man explain himself?" He sat back down. It was unsettling to be called "Captain" again. Only Maria did so now, and it was either in jest or anger. Whoever Ernst Schmidt was, and whatever he wanted, he knew far too much for Georg to feel comfortable.

Georg sat back down and faced Ernst. He folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward slightly. "Then why are you here?" he asked. There was still steel in his voice, and now an edge of impatience.

Ernst still seemed unfazed and met Georg's gaze directly. "In short, Captain, I am looking for a man of courage, of decency, and of action. I'm looking for a man who still cares about doing what's right and ideally a man who has some money and knows how to get things done. I'm hoping you might be that man."

Now Georg was interested. "Go on," he requested.

Ernst nodded briefly. "There are three musicians – violinists – who we would very much like to get out of Austria. They have not made any friends with the Anschluss. We are concerned for their safety should they stay in Austria." Here Ernst paused.

"Go on," Georg requested again.

"Two are Jews," Ernst continued, "and Austria has become a very unfriendly place for Jews. One was an outspoken opponent of the Anschluss and thus has made a rather bad enemy of the new German regime. We are worried that if they were to stay in Austria much longer things could get rather … uncomfortable … for them."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Georg asked, more sharply than he had intended. Hearing of non-militants being threatened in his homeland was confirmation of what he had been dreading.

"We are trying to get the necessary papers for them so that they can leave the country under different names. We should have that in a few days. They'll take the train to the Swiss border. The problem is that the Germans are tightening the borders more and more every day, especially against Jews and political agitators. What we need is someone who can meet them, usher them safely into Switzerland, and give them a place to hide for a few days while the Germans realize that they are missing. Someone who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty in case something goes wrong.

I have a friend in the Swiss government who will help them with the papers they need to get out of Switzerland into France and then unto a ship bound for America. I need someone to be the missing link here in Switzerland. Someone who wants to help good people stay safe. Someone who isn't of a little action. Our mutual friend described you as exactly such a man. I'm here in hopes that you might be our missing link, that you might help these three people get out of Austria while it's still possible."

Now Ernst sat back in his chair. "I'm not going to lie to you, Captain Von Trapp. Things are getting very bad in Austria these days. It's not uncommon for people to go missing, or to be taken for questioning and not come back. It's not the same country that you left."

Georg nodded his understanding. Ernst thought he could see a look of grief flicker across the Captain's eyes, but it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure.

"I know that you have a family to think of," Ernst continued after a minute, "but I do hope you're our man. Things may not go entirely smoothly. I need someone who has your kind of war experience and can help me think through every contingency."

Georg felt the blood start to rush through his veins in a way that he hadn't felt since he had finally gotten his family safe and settled. Help three good, innocent people out of Austria and away from the Nazis? This would allow him to do something about what was happening – to strike a blow at the Nazi party, even if it was only a small one.

"As far as I'm concerned," he finally responded, "the more people we can spare from the Nazis, the better."

The two men locked eyes and for that moment both felt that they could trust the other completely.

Georg finally sat back in his chair again. "But I find it hard to believe that my friend Max is involved in something so … honorable."

"Believe it, Captain," Ernst assured him. "Max has found that he does have a country after all. He has also found that he has a conscience. Unfortunately for him, he seems to have discovered this at the worst possible time. But I believe that's why he discovered it. He's seen what's happening to the Jews. He's seen what's happening to everyone who has been in any way opposed to the German regime. It's disgusting, it's humiliating, and it makes one doubt his faith in our fellow man."

"And so," Ernst continued again, "he reached out to me. Neither Germany nor Austria are friendly places for musicians – true musicians – these days."

"Why not?" Georg asked, not quite following Ernst.

"I think it's because Hitler styles himself as, shall we say, a musical appreciator with a discerning ear? Unfortunately his ear is not so discerning and only seems to appreciate music by German composers, and then only those who praise him. True musicians, those who love their art and don't want to compromise it, are starting to find themselves in a very uncomfortable situation."

Georg let out a long, angry breath. Music was the very heartbeat of Austria. If Hitler was threatening to challenge even that then this "Fuehrer" was even more insane and dangerous than he had realized.

"So Max contacted you?" he finally asked.

"Yes," Ernst replied. "He's worried about all of his musicians, but particularly these three at the moment. Given their histories …" he trailed off.

"Yes, I understand," Georg replied. He gave Ernst a wry smile. "I always knew Max was a better man that he let on." He felt an almost paternal pride for his fun-loving friend.

"Yes, he is," Ernst agreed. "He's put himself at considerable danger to help these people. Forging papers is a deadly crime in Austria these days. And given his connection with your family and your rather public defection, if more of his friends or clients disappear it will shed a dangerous amount of suspicion on him. His talent for making friends and getting along with people is the one thing that will probably save his neck through this."

Now Ernst gave Georg a wry smile. "He seems to be able to make anybody believe that he likes them, or that he thinks they have talent. Even if he is lying through his teeth."

"That's Max," Georg agreed. "Now, how do you need me to help you get these three … violinists, was it? … out of Austria?"

"You're in, Captain?" Ernst asked hopefully.

"I'm your man," Georg assured him. "After all, I can't very well let Max become heroic without helping him out, can I?" He reached his hand across the table, offering it to Ernst who clasped it in both of his. Ernst looked down for a moment and Georg could see the incredible relief in his eyes.

After they had shaken hands and assessed each other again, Ernst began to look distinctly uncomfortable. 'How much worse can this get?' Georg wondered to himself.

"I'm afraid one of the first things to do, Captain, is cover our tracks. Considering that your family is musical it would probably be a good idea to let me represent you – to sing publicly as a family – with me as your agent. It would explain our acquaintance and my visits."

Georg closed his eyes and sighed. He was never going to escape this, was he? He seemed destined to have a family on the stage. Ernst was right, it made complete sense. But damnit! He was always getting maneuvered into a position that he was adamantly against.

"I know how you feel about this, Captain," Ernst said apologetically. "And I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think it was necessary."

"Small scale," Georg said, cutting him off.

"Excuse me?" Ernst asked.

"Whatever we do, it needs to be on a small scale. And not the entire family at one time. It would garner too much attention. A stage name might be wise as well. Having won the Austrian National Folk Festival, right before our defection, shed too much light on us as a family of musicians. The Swiss officials know who we are, we are legally registered, but I'm still more comfortable keeping a low profile."

"Of course, I completely understand, Captain. I'll start looking for suitably small venue for your family – or part of your family – to debut."

"My wife, as you heard, is extraordinary," Georg added. "I'd like her to be involved in whatever decisions we make as far as performing goes. And by the way, call me Georg," he added as an afterthought. "Now, where exactly are you expecting these musicians to arrive, and under what names?"

Georg reached into one of his drawers and pulled out a map of the Swiss/Austrian border and surrounding territory. Ernst looked up at him in surprise. "I've been trying to study Swiss defensive capabilities," Georg explained. "Although I'm a naval man, myself, Switzerland is unfortunately land bound so I thought I should start understanding the terrain."

"You really are our man," Ernst said with more confidence than he had felt since he had first received word from Max, and he stood up to study the map better.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

After Ernst had left, Georg stood and looked out at the mountains for several minutes. Then he began to pace back and forth across his office.

The plan was good – as good as he could possibly make it. The three violinists would arrive in Switzerland late in the day, leave the train station and would wait for him at The Two Goats, the nearby tavern. They'd still be seen, but it was not uncommon for travelers to stop there once they had arrived in Switzerland, so it wouldn't be suspicious. Georg would come to collect them under the cover of night – neither he nor Ernst wanted anyone who might be affiliated with the Nazi party to potentially recognize his face.

Georg would have to count on them recognizing him by Max's description. But code words were set so that they could confirm each other's identity. They would follow him out of the bar, duck into his car and keep their heads down so that it would look as though he was driving alone. For the next several days they would stay hidden at the Von Trapp house, only going outside to the back yard where they wouldn't be seen. Ideally, no one in the town would know they were there.

When their papers were ready for them to leave Switzerland for France, Ernst would come to Dorfli with those papers under the guise of having found a musical engagement for the Von Trapps in Geneva. Georg and a few of the children would then drive to Geneva with the three musicians. While they were scouting out, and possibly auditioning for their performance, the three musicians would switch names and identities and board a ship headed across Lake Geneva for France. After that they would be in the hands of another link in the chain. Who that would be, Georg didn't know. It was better – safer – that he didn't know. He couldn't see them safely through France and bound for America, this was all could do. But getting them out of Austria and into Switzerland was one of the more dangerous jobs. If he could manage this stage of the escape, Georg reasoned, that would be enough.

All he had to do now was to wait for Ernst's signal. Ernst had promised him that on the day the three musicians were to arrive in Switzerland he would send Georg a signal. An unmistakable signal.

Georg sat back down and spent the better part of an hour studying his maps. He studied where the train would come into Switzerland, the road he would travel getting to and from the train station, and the road he would travel to Geneva.

Finally satisfied that he knew the terrain as well as possible, Georg left his office in search of his wife. He thanked God that he and Maria had finally reconciled before Ernst had shown up at his door with this request. Georg knew that there was no way he could pull this off without Maria, and the mission would be doomed if they were still waging their silent war. The timing had been perfect – just one more reason for him to believe that God was directing their paths.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Georg found Maria and all of the children in the largest sitting room. They were being remarkably quiet, considering that all eight of them were together. He smiled as he saw that all of the children were reading their assigned texts, and that Maria had started to read Mein Kampf. It was a boring, dreadful book but still an excellent look into Hitler's mind.

As he entered the room, Maria and several of the children looked up at him. He had eyes only for Maria, however, and she met his gaze directly, smiling at him. It was so good to see a smile reach her eyes again. Those beautiful eyes.

He smiled at her for a few more moments and then turned his eyes away to look at the rest of the room. "Children, I need to talk to your mother for a little while. Please just keep reading."

As Maria and the Captain walked out of the sitting room he couldn't resist stopping to hug her. She leaned into him, feeling herself melt a little in his embrace. It was so good to be close to him again. The very smell of him was slightly intoxicating.

"What is it?" she finally asked, her head resting on her shoulder.

"I just received a visitor," he explained, kissing the top of her head. "A friend of Max's no less."

Maria stood straight up in surprise. "Max!" she exclaimed in surprise and delight. "How is he?"

"He seems to be … remarkable," Georg replied. "And I must talk to you, but not here.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

A few minutes later Georg and Maria were in his office, behind closed doors. Georg found he couldn't keep his hands off Maria, despite the circumstances, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. So rather than standing or sitting on opposite sides of the desk, he sat down and pulled her into his lap, holding her close. She was so beautiful and irresistible that all thoughts of Max or Austrian musicians fled his mind as he began to kiss her neck – light soft kisses that made shivers run up and down Maria's spine.

For her part, Maria was so glad to be close to her husband again that she closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. She hadn't felt shivers like these in weeks and it felt divine.

It seemed as if all conversation about the earlier events of the day would be forgotten until Maria opened her eyes slightly and saw the maps spread across his desk.

"Darling?" she managed to ask through the shivers and the kisses.

"Mmmmm?" was all the response he could manage.

"What does Max have to do with maps?"

Reluctantly Georg came back to the present and stopped kissing her neck. Maria regretted the interruption but curiosity was getting the best of her. Still, Georg held her on his lap, keeping her close. He stroked her hair back and kissed her tenderly on the mouth before beginning to explain.

Briefly he told her about Ernst's visit, Max's musicians and the role that he had agreed to play.

Maria was aghast. "Musicians are no longer safe in Austria?" she asked, scarcely believing what she had heard.

"It seems that some aren't," Georg explained. "The Nazis view music as a political tool as much as they do many other aspects of culture.They call what they don't like 'Entartete Kunst.' They believe that any kind of that 'degenerate art' saps the spirit.Any artist on the wrong side of that divide could be extremely threatened. Two of these violinists are Jews, and one has apparently been politically subversive. They need to get out of Austria while it's still possible. I've been called on to help them, and I feel I must do so, but I also know that I can't do it without you."

"Oh, darling," Maria began. She could feel her heart swelling with pride as she looked at her husband and felt his strong arms wrapped so protectively around her. "God has brought you to this time and place to help these people. I believe that with all my heart, and I will help you as best as I can." She leaned against him, feeling that she had never loved him more. "The Reverend Mother always said that when the Lord closes a door, someway he opens a window."

Georg's lips twitched in amusement and happiness. There was something so secure about knowing what your wife was going to say before she said it. He knew her and loved the familiarity they were finally sharing.

"These musicians – violinists –," Maria continued, "You are their window in a world where doors are closing all around them. I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"I prayed that you would say that," Georg said as he continued to stroke her hair back. "We need to keep these musicians safe and hidden in our home for a few days until they can get to France. In the meantime I need to figure out what we are going to do about the servants – how we will explain the presence of these three fugitives. I also need you to pull together some of the children – some, not all – to give a performance in Geneva while the violinists board a ship to France. I need you as my partner in this – to help manage the servants and children while these three people are in our home and to provide the cover for helping them leave the country."

Maria felt as though her heart would burst. She was so proud of her husband and how he had managed to find a way to keep fighting for his ideals even in this small town. She was also proud of Max and how he was standing against those who were persecuting good men and women. And she felt something that she hadn't felt in weeks – she was needed. Once again, she was partnering with her husband to stand for their beliefs and to fight against the forces of oppression. He needed her, and he recognized that. She ran her fingers down the side of his face and kissed him tenderly yet fully on the mouth. He tightened his arms around her in response, bringing her in closer.

When they finally broke apart, both a little breathless, Maria looked at Georg and this time it was she who ran his fingers through his hair, pausing over the new grey. "Darling," she began after a few more minutes, "these are professional musicians, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," he affirmed and then added with a smile "and represented by Max."

"Well, couldn't we say – at least to the Anna, Johanna and Karolina – that they are friends from Austria and here to give the children some music lessons? I think we can count on their discretion. They've been with us for over a month and have yet to ask a single question about their background. And it would look awfully suspicious if we gave them all several days' vacation without any warning."

Georg nodded thoughtfully. "I haven't been able to think of a perfect solution on how to deal with the servants. I think that is probably as good an answer as any."

"And as for the children…" here Maria trailed off. "For those who are curious – who are aware that something more is going on – I think we can trust them with the truth," she finally continued. "As for the others, the younger ones in particular, I think we can tell them the same thing that we tell the servants."

"They'll be delighted to hear that you've relented a little about singing in public," Maria added, unable to hide a slightly triumphant smile. "I'll just explain that you'll only allow it in small groups, and that those groups will change."

Georg closed his eyes and shook his head. "That seems to be a battle I am destined to keep losing."

Maria had no verbal response. She just leaned forward and kissed him again, hard. He reached around her and twisted his fingers through her hair, finally breaking away enough to whisper breathlessly "Is it too early to send the children to bed?"

"Considering that it's two in the afternoon," Maria responded just as breathlessly, "I think so."

"Well, alright," he almost growled in response. "But I think they all need as early a bedtime as possible."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Over the next few days Georg and Maria worked to prepare for the three visitors and waited for the signal that Ernst had promised would be unmistakable. They each longed to talk to Max and hear directly from him what had been happening in Austria since they left, but they knew it was too dangerous for him and for them to contact him directly.

Together they decided that a surprise visit in the middle of the night would not be a good plan, so they told Anna, Johanna and Karolina that they were expecting some old friends to visit in a few days – friends who would be giving their children more advanced music lessons. They impressed upon their three helpers that this visit was to be kept quiet because, they explained, some people in Austria might be unhappy that they had come for a visit and they didn't want to upset anybody. To Marta, Gretl and Kurt they gave a similar explanation: that some people were coming to give them more advanced music lessons, but they must remain very quiet about the fact that they had visitors or it might help the Nazis to find their father. Only Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa and Brigitta knew the truth.

Hasty beds on cots were prepared. Marta and Gretl were told they'd have to share a bed. The protests were vehement but short lived as neither particularly minded the idea, as long as it was only for a few days.

Finally, four days after Ernst had come to visit them they did receive an unmistakable signal. A courier arrived with three violins. Two were sized for an adolescent or adult and one for a small child. The note from Ernst simply read "To help you in your musical studies. I'll be there in a few days to arrange your upcoming performance."

To be continued ….