Into the Iron Shadows, page 13
“Oh, no risk to you or your property, I assure you. Rather the risk is more to me, should anyone else on staff discover the existence of the room.”
“Do you mean to tell me that no one knows that it’s there?” Evelyn asked incredulously. “How is that possible?”
“The room is very old,” Philip told her, lowering his voice. “It dates back to before this building was even a hotel. It’s built into the foundation, accessed only by a hidden door in the far corner of the cellar. It’s not very large, and so you see my reluctance to offer this option to very many people.”
“And yet you are willing to offer it to me?”
Philip smiled disarmingly. “What can I say? I like you. And you remind me very forcibly of someone I once knew,” he added, tilting his head to the side. “I feel as if I know you. But if we set all that aside, Shustov is one of my preferred clients. Therefore, I feel it’s only fair to extend to you the same courtesy that I extend to him.”
Evelyn inclined her head gratefully. “I very much appreciate it,” she said. “And you’re the only one who knows the existence of this room?”
“Not quite. The sommelier knows as well,” he admitted with a shrug. “It is, after all, his domain. But I can assure you that he is a friend. I trust his discretion implicitly. If it sets your mind at ease at all, he pays no attention to what goes in, or comes out, of that room. The only thing he’s interested in is the case of Bordeaux that he’s had stashed in there for close to five years. You need have no concern on his account.”
Evelyn considered him thoughtfully for a long moment, then nodded. “Then I would be very grateful if you would make the arrangements.”
“As you wish. How long do you expect for the case to remain?”
“Until I can return to retrieve it.”
Philip nodded. “Very well. I assure you it will be safe and secure until you have need of it once more.”
“Thank you very much,” Evelyn said, rising and holding out her hand. “You’ve been so very helpful over the past few days.”
“My dear mademoiselle, that is what I am here for.” Philip took her hand with a genuinely warm smile. “I look forward to being of equal service to you in the future.”
Evelyn nodded and picked up the briefcase, handing it to him.
“I have a feeling that you will get the opportunity quite often in the coming months,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m very relieved that we get along so well. I, too, am looking forward to continuing our association.”
Philip took the case and bowed his head politely.
“I wish you a very safe journey tomorrow. It’s not a good time to be traveling on the continent. Please take all care of yourself.”
Evelyn nodded and watched as he turned to walk, with measured stride, out of the lounge, the briefcase clasped firmly in his hand. She felt rather as if she was watching a close friend walk away for the last time. Shaking her head, she picked up her purse and the telegram. He was right about one thing; it was not a good time to be traveling, especially through France, but she had little choice.
If she was to get back to England, she had to go through hell.
Paris
May 19
Henry finished adjusting his tie and turned to take one final look in the mirror. Satisfied, he turned away and reached for his jacket. As he was pulling it on, a soft knock fell on the door. He called to enter and a very slight man with slicked back hair opened it to move noiselessly into the room.
“Yes? What is it?” Henry asked.
“A telegram for you, sir,” the manservant said, holding out an envelope. “It just arrived, and it’s marked urgent.”
Henry frowned and took the envelope, ripping it open.
WOMAN WHO WENT TO HOUSE WAS IN BERN. LEFT ON SMALL PLANE THIS MORNING - 7 O’CLOCK. PARIS MOST LIKELY DESTINATION.
Henry looked at his watch and turned to stride over to the writing desk. Picking up a lighter, he held the corner of the paper to the flame, watching as it caught light.
“Have my car brought round,” he said, not taking his eyes from the flames.
“Very good, sir.”
The valet turned and left as noiselessly as he had arrived, closing the door silently behind him. Henry dropped the burning telegram into an ashtray, watching as the flames curled around the last bit. So the mystery spy who’d gone to the farmhouse was on their way to Paris? There was only one airfield near Paris where a small plane would land, and if he hurried, he might just catch them.
Henry turned from the writing desk and reached for his hat. He was still awaiting a full report from Berlin on the farmer’s family. He’d also reached out to the same contact in Bern who had sent the telegram. While he had no doubt that Berlin knew all there was to know about the dead farmer, his associate in place there would know the little details about his family that it was impossible to learn as an outsider. He simply had to be patient and wait for the information to come through. In the meantime, at least he had this. If he could get a good look at the spy, that was all he needed. He’d be able to put a face to the person who stood between him and the package Ainsworth had stolen.
And then he’d be able to get the package back.
He left the room, his hat in his hand. He would go to the airfield and see what he could discover. If the plane had left Bern at seven, then it would be landing soon. Always assuming, of course, that his contact was correct in his belief that the plane was headed for Paris. The man had an uncanny way of talking to people and coaxing a world of information from them that, in most cases, they didn’t even know they possessed. If he believed the airplane was going to Paris, then it most likely was.
Jogging down the stairs, Henry reflected that it would be a rush to get to the airfield, and then get back to Paris in time for his meeting with the ambassador. It would never do to keep that man waiting. Thankfully, the airfield wasn’t far, but it would still be cutting it close.
He nodded to the manservant as he entered the small entryway.
“Is it here?”
“It just arrived, sir,” the man replied, opening the front door for him.
Henry went down the front steps of the narrow house, pulling on his gloves as he went. A black sedan idled at the curb and the driver got out, nodding to him politely.
“Sir.”
“Thank you. I won’t be needing you. I’ll drive myself,” Henry said, waving him away.
He got behind the wheel and pulled the door closed, adjusting the mirror. As he pulled away from the sidewalk, his brows drew together in a frown. Something was bothering him about this whole situation, something that kept nagging in the back of his head. It was the most absurd idea, but if Henry had learned anything in the past couple of years, it was that the more absurd ideas usually turned out to be the ones that he should pay attention to. It all stemmed from a very simple question that he’d been asking himself since he learned that someone had gone to the old farmhouse. If the mysterious spy had indeed gone to collect something left behind by the old farmer or Ainsworth himself, they had to be following instructions that were left before either man had been killed.
Who would Robert Ainsworth trust enough to leave that kind of information to?
Chapter Twelve
Evelyn climbed out of the small airplane and turned to reach up for her suitcase. The pilot handed it to her with a nod and a smile, and she held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun.
“Thank you so much,” she said briskly. “Will you continue on to Lyons?”
“No, miss. I’m heading south now, to Spain. I’ll just be refueling, and then I’ll be off.”
“My, you have a busy day!”
The man grinned and scratched his thick head of black curly hair. “That I do, miss. That I do. You take care, now. I think you have someone waiting for you.”
Evelyn turned in surprise and looked in the direction he motioned. There, at the edge of the landing strip, was a small gray Renault with a man behind the wheel. A woman was standing beside the car and, as Evelyn turned, she lifted her hand and waved gaily.
“Do you know them, miss?”
“I know the woman, certainly,” Evelyn replied with a delighted smile. “She’s an old friend.” She turned back to hold her hand out to the pilot. “Thank you again. Have a safe flight to Spain.”
“Thank you, miss.” He shook her hand, gave her a nod, and then ducked back into the plane.
Turning, Evelyn began walking towards the little car in the distance with a strange sense of relief. They had certainly not had an easy trip back from Switzerland. He’d had to divert twice to avoid German airplane formations. One was a squadron of fighters, and the other a group of bombers. Seeing the enemy planes in the air over France had shaken Evelyn, and she had held on to the sides of her seat with a white-knuckled grip, staring at the dark shapes in the distance. Mr. Smith had remained calm, however, and they had avoided the war birds easily enough. Seeing her nervousness, he’d tried to set her mind at ease by telling her that they would hardly shoot down a small unmarked, passenger plane such as theirs, but it hadn’t really helped. All she could think was that, while she may be safe enough, Miles was not, and he and Robbie were going up every day in the hopes of meeting them head-on. Seeing the black swarms from the small window as she gazed out helplessly, she’d been struck suddenly by the reality of the situation. Hitler was coming, and when he was finished with France, he would turn towards England.
And then all those shadows would be flying over the Channel to attack them.
Evelyn walked towards the car with her suitcase in one hand and her purse strap over her shoulder. Setting the unpleasant thought aside, she focused on Josephine and a wide smile spread over her face.
“Mon amie!” she called as she drew closer. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Maubeuge!”
“And miss Paris in the spring?” Josephine called back cheerfully. “Never!”
Evelyn laughed and, as she reached her, set down her suitcase to give her a hug, kissing the air beside her cheek.
“How did you know I was coming? Bill?”
“But of course!” Josephine motioned to the Renault. “Your car, my lady!”
Evelyn picked up the suitcase and smiled at the young man who climbed out of the driver’s seat to open the back door for her.
“And this is Finn, your temporary chauffeur,” Josephine continued with a laugh. “Finn, this is...what is your name today?” she asked Evelyn, turning to look at her quizzically.
“Geneviève,” Evelyn replied, holding out her hand to Finn. “Geneviève Dufour.”
“My pleasure, Mademoiselle Dufour,” Finn said with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Evelyn looked at Josephine in surprise, but the woman shook her head.
“Not from me,” she said with a shrug. “All I’ve said was that we were coming to meet you and that you would take him to England.”
“I received a message from Bill this morning,” Finn explained, taking her suitcase from her. “He said I would be in safe hands. He told me to ask you about the time in Lockerbie when you went fishing.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Good Lord, he’s trying to embarrass me! It was a massive trout, you see, and it had me right over the side of the boat.”
“Did it get away?”
“Not at all. I held on and pulled it back into the boat with me.” Evelyn smiled and got into the back seat. Peering up at him, she saw his jaw relax and knew that he was satisfied with the code. “And please, call me Geneviève.”
Finn nodded and set the suitcase on the floor at her feet before closing the door. She watched as he got behind the wheel again and Josephine went around to get into the passenger seat. So Bill was instituting the safety protocols, was he? It was the first time she’d been asked to pick up, or even meet, a contact who wasn’t part of her own mission. Bill obviously wanted Finn to be comfortable in the knowledge that she really was who she was supposed to be. Did he think there was a possibility that she wouldn’t have made it back from Switzerland? And that an impostor would have come in her place? The thought sent a chill down her spine and Evelyn felt the skin on her arms prickle in response. What did London know that she didn’t?
“I hope you don’t mind a small apartment in a modest district,” Josephine said, turning in the seat to look at Evelyn. “We’ll need to get supplies before we can start out and get you to where you need to go. That will be difficult. We arrived yesterday and most of the shops are already closed, with the owners gone. Everyone is fleeing the city.”
“Are the Germans that close?”
“Not yet, but everyone is leaving before they come.” Josephine shrugged. “I know someone, though, who may be able to help us get what we need today. We can leave Paris tomorrow if all goes well.”
“We?”
“I thought I’d help you as far as I can before I continue south. I’m going to Marseilles.”
“And you’re not needed there immediately?”
“I’m not needed there at all. Everything is chaos, and that includes us. Marc thinks it’s best for us to separate and stay quiet until...well, until we can figure out a way to resume.” Josephine smiled sadly. “We’re on our own now.”
Evelyn stared at her and saw uncertainty, and sorrow, in her face. Her heart broke for her. She was about to lose her country to the Nazis, along with everything France had ever stood for. Evelyn couldn’t even imagine the pain of knowing that her country would no longer be her country, but she nodded briskly. Josephine didn’t need pity right now. She needed a friend, an associate.
“I think that’s a wise choice,” she said. “It’s best not to draw attention to yourselves. Wait until things are back to some kind of normal, and then start again. Do you have family in Marseilles?”
“No, a friend. We were at school together. She will give me lodging until I find work and can arrange something for myself. Her husband manages a factory of some sort.”
Finn glanced in the rear view mirror at her. “Where are we going? I’m hoping you know because I haven’t been given a clue.”
“Haven’t you?” Evelyn asked, surprised. “How strange! We’re to go to Le Havre. A private boat there will take us across to England.”
“Le Havre!” Josephine exclaimed. “But that’s west, not south.”
“That’s right.” Finn and Josephine glanced at each other and Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “What is it? Is there something wrong with going west?”
“Not if you want to go in the same direction as the Germans,” Josephine said. “They’re racing to the coast, likely to secure the port cities and prevent the retreat of the Allied forces.”
Evelyn felt her skin go cold and she pressed her lips together, turning her attention out of the window at the passing countryside.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. The last report I heard was this morning. They captured Saint-Quentin yesterday and are still going west. At this rate, they will reach the Channel in a matter of days.”
“Then Le Havre is out of the question,” Evelyn said decidedly, turning her gaze back to the front of the car. “We’ll have to go south.”
She stared out of the windshield absently, watching as a black car in the distance came towards them. It was the first car she’d seen since they left the airfield, she realized, and that in itself was strange. She was used to more traffic on the road into Paris, but if what Josephine said was true then all the traffic was on the other side, heading south.
“Do you have a wireless radio at this apartment?” she asked suddenly. “One that I can use?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll send a message to London as soon as we arrive, alerting them to the fact that we will go south,” Evelyn decided. “I’ll write it out now so that I can transmit as soon as we get there. They can’t have known that the armies were going west when they issued Le Havre as a departure point. They must have thought Paris was the immediate goal.”
“They would be forgiven for thinking so. We all assumed they would go straight for Paris.” Josephine watched as Evelyn ducked down in the back seat to undo the clasps on her suitcase. “What are you doing?”
“I have to get my pad out of the case,” came the muffled reply. The car went over a bump in the road and her head smacked the back of Finn’s seat. “Perhaps you could keep it a little more steady?” she asked humorously.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said with laugh. “I was trying to move over to give this car more room. He seems to be in a hurry.”
“Perhaps he’s catching a flight out of France,” Josephine said, watching as the black car sped past them in the opposite direction. “I almost wish I could do the same.”
Finn glanced at her. “You would leave if you had the opportunity?”
After a moment’s thought, she sighed and shook her head. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. There is work to be done, and there will be more once the Nazis arrive. I’m needed here.”
He was silent for a long moment, then he nodded slowly. “I would have stayed in Belgium if I had a choice. Unfortunately, it was impossible.”
“You came from Belgium?” Evelyn asked in surprise, straightening up in the back seat with a notepad and small book in her hand.
“Yes. I was in Antwerp, but when the Germans invaded, I fled south. Much like the Parisians are doing now.”
“Another Belgian,” Josephine laughed, glancing at Evelyn. “You must be a magnet for them.”
Finn raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“I was in Brussels when the invasion began,” Evelyn explained. “A young man was kind enough to help get me to France.”
“Where is he? I thought he was going to England with you?” Josephine asked.
“He decided to stay in France. He made a fast friend in our associate from Marle.”
“Marcel?” It was Josephine’s turn to be surprised. “He doesn’t usually take in recruits. At least, not that I’ve ever heard. Well, he’s in good hands, at any rate. He will be properly trained and supplied with a solid identity and papers.”
