Into the Iron Shadows, page 12
It was all rather a tangle, and Evelyn wasn’t really sure what to do. Leaving the other two numbered accounts active and transferring access to herself seemed to be the most logical thing to do at the time, but it was still all very strange. She had emptied the last account with the thought that she could stash the money in France for future access, but of course now she realized what a foolish thought that had been. Where on earth would she put it?
Evelyn lifted the leather pouch from the briefcase, turning it over in her hands. And this! This was another tangle altogether.
Before she could continue the thought, a brief knock fell on the door. Dropping the pouch back into the briefcase, she closed and locked it quickly before turning to cross the room. When she opened the door, a hotel porter tipped his hat respectfully, holding out an envelope.
“Good afternoon, mademoiselle,” he said. “This telegram arrived for you a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the envelope.
After another bob of his head, the porter turned to leave and Evelyn closed the door. She turned over the telegram and ripped it open, scanning it as she crossed the room towards the writing desk. The message was from London and written in code. She dropped it on the desk and turned to go to her suitcase. After removing her clothes, she lifted the false bottom and pulled out her codebook before going back to the desk. Seating herself, she bent over the telegram and proceeded to decode it quickly on a separate piece of paper.
MEET PLANE AT AIRFIELD 7AM ON 19TH. TIMING CRUCIAL. CANNOT GUARANTEE SAFETY BEYOND THEN. YOU WILL BE FLOWN TO PARIS WHERE YOU WILL MEET CONTACT NAMED FINN. MAKE WAY TO LE HAVRE. CONTACT IS RENE ON RUE POUYER. PRIVATE FISHING BOAT WILL BRING YOU BOTH TO ENGLAND. PROCEED TO LONDON. ACKNOWLEDGE RECEIPT - BARD.
Evelyn sat back in her chair and stared at the message. The fact that Bill had signed with his codename spoke volumes about the state of affairs with the German advance. It was the first time any message she received from London had been signed, and the fact that this one followed the protocol that was to be used once the continent became unsafe was disturbing.
Last night at her hotel in Zürich, Evelyn had read in the newspaper that the German 6th Army had captured Brussels, and it was expected that Antwerp would fall next. With Belgium on the verge of surrender, and German armies moving into France, she could well understand Bill’s caution. Shifting her eyes to the briefcase on the bed, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. With Hitler’s armies on the move, she would be moving through France with a significant amount of money locked in a leather briefcase. She couldn’t think of anything more foolish, yet what choice did she really have?
While that thought was unnerving, she couldn’t prevent the smile that twisted her lips. She was worrying about traveling with an excess of cash while, in the false bottom of her suitcase, she was carrying stolen documents from Germany and, soon to join them, hand-drawings and microfiche that her father had smuggled out of Austria. Evelyn lifted her hand to rub her forehead tiredly. It wasn’t enough that she would be racing the Nazis across France, but with every passing day she seemed to be gathering more dangerous information to carry with her. Information that, were she to be caught by the Germans, would ensure her arrest and, most likely, execution. She must be insane.
Dropping her hand, she reached for her cigarette case. There was nothing for it but to continue. She would move as much of the cash as she could into the lining of her coat and into the bottom of the suitcase. The leather pouch would be concealed in her suitcase along with the oilskin packet that had come all the way from Stuttgart, and that had already caused some discomfort in her travels. What money she couldn't carry with her, she would be forced to leave in the briefcase. Tonight, when she went down for dinner, she would ask Philip to keep the case until her next visit. It was the best that she could do. She couldn’t lug two cases across France. One suitcase was quite enough already. That would have to do, and she would have to trust Philip.
And then she would pray that she and this agent named Finn had no issues making it to Le Havre.
Amiens
“The Germans are moving into Antwerp. They’ll have control by the end of the day, if they don’t already.”
Marc looked up when Luc entered the shed carrying a folded newspaper. He nodded, unsurprised.
“We expected that.”
“Yes, but it’s still unnerving to see it in black-and-white.” Luc dropped the newspaper onto the table next to Marc. “Now that they’ve lost their major cities, Belgium will surrender. And then Hitler can focus all his might on France. I doubt we’ll last a month.”
“All the more reason to get moving,” Marc said. “Soldiers and Panzers are moving quickly across France, and they’re headed straight for us. We need to move.”
“Yes, but move where?”
“We’ll go southwest and try to swing around them.” Marc pointed to a spot on the map that he had been studying. “It’s clear that they’re heading straight for the coast here,” he said, motioning on the map. “If we go this way, we can cut across here and make for Lyons.”
“Lyons?” Luc repeated, surprised. “I thought we were going home?”
“Too many people there know what we are doing. With the Germans moving in so quickly, it’s not safe. I don’t trust anyone anymore. We’ll start fresh in Lyons.”
Luc stared down at the map thoughtfully, scratching his chin. “There are certainly ample places to hide in Lyons,” he said slowly. “The traboules will be particularly useful. Those passages can be used to escape the Gestapo when they come.”
“Exactly.”
“We can find work in one of the factories. I know several people there who can help, people who have no idea what I’ve been doing.”
Marc nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on. We’ll find work and wait. When the time is right, we will continue.”
“Do you have any idea where André and Mathieu are heading?”
“No. All I know is that they went south.”
“André will want to go back to Paris.”
“That wouldn’t be the worst place they could go. It’s a big city, and we will need people there.”
Luc shook his head and went over to look out the window on the side of the shed. “I still can’t believe that it’s come to this.”
Marc watched him for a moment then went back to his map, not offering any comment. There was nothing to say. This was not the result that any of them had expected, but it’s what they had to face. Silence fell over the small area until finally Marc glanced at his watch and stood up.
“I must contact Metz. Why don’t you go tell Matilde that we’ll be leaving within the hour, and start loading the car?”
Luc nodded and turned away from the window. Once he had left, Marc turned to his wireless radio and picked up his headset, settling it over his ears. He didn’t know how much longer their contact in Metz would be able to transmit, but as long as he still was, Marc could get information on the advancing troops. And Stefan was nothing if not a wealth of information. Josephine always laughed and said that she was convinced he had a crystal ball. The man certainly had a knack for digging out information that no one else could, and he had been invaluable in helping them to avoid the advancing Nazi troops over the past three days.
After turning the knobs on his radio, Marc reached for the paddle to tap out the message. He would give Stefan five minutes to answer, and if he didn’t, he was shutting the radio down. They didn’t have time to wait; they needed to get on the road as soon as possible.
When his headset came alive a few minutes later, Marc reached for his pencil. Good. Stefan was still able to transmit. Either the Germans hadn’t taken Metz yet, or they hadn’t discovered the radio signal. Either way, Marc would be able to get the latest information on troop movements before he and Luc set off.
When Luc reentered the shed ten minutes later, Marc was staring at his radio, his face pale.
“What is it?” Luc asked quickly. “What’s happened? Has Metz fallen?”
“No. It’s still safe for now.”
“What then?”
“One of Stefan’s men intercepted a typed communication bound for one of the SS commanders,” Marc said slowly. “Among other things, it appears that our network has somehow become exposed to the Germans.”
“How exposed?”
“They have a list of names.”
Luc’s face paled. “How bad is it?”
Marc lifted his eyes from his radio and turned to look at him. “Josephine’s name is on the list.”
Luc stared at him for a moment then ran a hand through his hair, letting out a string of curses. “We need to warn her!”
“That’s not all.”
Luc looked at him apprehensively. “Tell me.”
“Finn’s name is on there, as well as the young Jens Bernard who stayed with us in Maubeuge. There are several others as well, and they all have one thing in common.”
“What?”
“They’ve all had dealings with the British Secret Service.”
“But so have we,” Luc pointed out. “Are our names on the list?”
“That’s the thing,” Marc said grimly. “Stefan thinks that the list is incomplete.”
Luc swallowed and ran his hand through his hair once again. This time it was shaking.
“Then we may be exposed as well.”
Marc nodded and began to disconnect his radio and secure it in its case.
“Yes. There is no way to know for sure, so we must assume the worst.”
“What shall we do?”
“We get on the road to Lyons. When we arrive, we do so as new men.”
“We could stop in Paris,” Luc suggested, watching Marc pack up his radio. “They can still provide us with identification papers and a new identity.”
Marc was already shaking his head before Luc had finished. “No. We do it ourselves. I know a man outside of Reims. He can help.”
“You don’t trust our government?”
“Right now, the only people I trust are Josephine, André, Mathieu and you.”
“What about Josephine? She needs to be warned.”
“There’s nothing I can do until she reaches the apartment in Paris. I’ll try reaching her then. She should be there by tomorrow.”
“And if we can’t reach her?”
“Then we pray.”
Chapter Eleven
My dearest Evelyn,
If you are reading this then I am no longer with you and you have found the box I left in Blasenflue. I knew you would solve the Chinese puzzle box. I wish I could have explained more at the time, but I’m sure you understand.
The items contained in the safe deposit box came out of Austria at great cost. Two good men risked everything to smuggle them out of Germany and into our hands. I’m sure you’ll recognize the drawings. You always did have an interest in motors. This, however, is far different from anything you’ve ever seen. It could change the face of Europe, if not the world. That is why it is so important to keep it secret. Trust no one. The Nazis know the information was taken out of Vienna and they’ll be looking for it. They will stop at nothing to get it back.
There is one man in Switzerland that you can trust. His name is Philip Moreau, and he is a night manager at the Bellevue Palace Hotel in Bern. He’s a good man, and trustworthy, but on no account should you leave anything of importance with him, especially these documents. While I would trust him implicitly, he has associates I cannot vouch for. I suggest making friends with him before you leave Switzerland. You may use my name as a reference...
Evelyn stepped out of the lift and went towards the front desk, the briefcase in her hand. There was no sign of Philip, but the young man manning the desk smiled politely as she walked up.
“Good evening, mademoiselle,” he greeted her. “How may I be of service?”
“I was hoping to have a word with Monsieur Moreau.”
“I apologize, but he’s just stepped down to the wine cellar. May I help?”
“I’ll wait, thank you. If you could ask him to come see me in the lounge when he returns?”
“Yes of course.”
Evelyn nodded and turned to leave. After a few steps, she turned back. “Actually, if I compose a telegram, can it be sent this evening?”
“Yes, of course. We have the ability to send directly from the hotel.”
“Wonderful!” Evelyn gave him her most winning smile. “You’d be amazed how many hotels send them out. Why, I stayed in a hotel in Zürich last night and they had to send it down the street!”
The young man tsked and shook his head. “Rest assured, mademoiselle, that we will transmit it immediately. We take pride in our promptness.”
“That is a relief. My uncle is ill, you see.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. There are telegrams in the lounge. It’s quite comfortable in there, and you won’t be disturbed.”
“Thank you.”
Evelyn turned and walked across the lobby, a small smile playing on her lips. Of course she knew the hotel would send the telegram immediately, but she wanted the young man to believe that her business with his manager was something completely trivial. The last thing either of them needed was undue scrutiny.
The smile faded as she made her way into the lounge. The letter from her father had been very clear about the need for discretion here in Switzerland. Discretion was beginning to become second nature to her, but she realized she still had a lot to learn in that regard. The letter had also made it clear that he was fully aware of her work with MI6, and with Bill, so he had no doubt of her ability to be discreet.
Or of her ability to deceive.
Evelyn seated herself at a desk in the far corner, away from everyone. She pulled a piece of hotel stationery towards her and picked up a complementary fountain pen. After staring thoughtfully at the blank sheet for a moment, she bent her head to write. She would acknowledge Bill’s telegram and advise him that she would be at the airport on time the next morning. That was the easy part. The hard part was lying to him about what she’d found in Zürich. In all the time that she had worked for him and for MI6, she had never once found it necessary to lie. She trusted Bill implicitly, but her father had not.
She paused in writing to look up, a frown on her face. That wasn’t strictly true, she admitted. He never named William Buckley specifically, or even referred to her direct boss in the letter. All he had said was that she could trust no one in MI6, something that she was beginning to learn herself. After all, someone in London was a spy and had managed to get hold of a lot of information that they shouldn’t have had access to. Was the spy active even before her father’s death? It seemed the only logical explanation, as it certainly appeared that her father had very definite reasons not to trust the organization that he was working for in London. Why else would he instruct her to keep the contents secret, even from them?
After chewing her bottom lip for a moment, Evelyn decided that brevity was the best course of action. After confirming the early morning flight, she added a single line.
Zürich a dead-end.
Pulling a blank telegraph sheet towards herself, Evelyn glanced around the lounge. There were several other patrons, but none of them were paying her the least amount of attention. She opened her purse and slid her codebook out, partially covering it with the clutch. She then set about encoding the message onto the telegram to send to Bill. She had just finished and was snapping her purse closed again when a shadow fell over the desk.
“Mademoiselle Dufour,” Philip said easily. “You wanted to see me?”
Evelyn screwed up the first message in her hand as she looked up with a smile.
“Yes, thank you. I wonder if you might do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Please sit down,” she invited. “It’s so tiring to stare up at someone.”
Philip glanced around the lounge before pulling a chair over and seating himself next to her.
“I assume this has nothing to do with the telegram you wish to send to your ill uncle?” he asked in some amusement.
“Nothing whatsoever,” she said with a light laugh.
“I’m relieved. There’s nothing I find more tedious than repeating what the guest already knows.”
“Actually, I’ve run into a bit of a dilemma,” Evelyn said slowly. “I find that I’m leaving rather unexpectedly very early tomorrow morning. However, the journey seems as though it will be a bit more complicated, and significantly longer, than I had originally anticipated.”
“How disconcerting,” he murmured. “I trust everything is all right?”
“Oh yes. It’s just that my route will not be quite as direct as I was hoping. Which brings me to my dilemma. I have this briefcase, you see, and it would be quite awkward to try to manage this as well as my luggage. I was rather hoping that perhaps you might hold onto it for me.”
Philip glanced down at the briefcase and then raised his eyes back to hers. “Of course. You have two options. I would be more than happy to secure it in the hotel safe until such time as you can return to collect it.”
“And the other option?”
He smiled faintly. “Well that all depends on how important the contents of the briefcase are to you. I do have a more secure arrangement that might be of interest to you.”
“I’m listening.”
“For a small fee, I can conceal the case in a very secure area, hidden behind a wall in our wine cellar. This is a service I only offer to certain clients, you understand. It is, of necessity, not something that I do often. It does entail a bit of risk, you see.”
“What kind of risk?”
