Into the Iron Shadows, page 14
“I hope so.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No. He will contact us once he’s settled.” Evelyn looked at Finn. “Like you, he had little choice in leaving Brussels.”
“It’s for the best,” Finn replied. “Both Brussels and Antwerp have fallen.”
“What?!”
“Yes. They captured Brussels on Friday, and Antwerp yesterday. Belgium will surrender. They have no choice.”
“And now they are in France and going to the Channel,” Evelyn said, rubbing her forehead. “They’re trapping our armies.”
“Yes,” Josephine agreed grimly. “There is little hope now. Once Sedan fell, it was over.”
Hearing the note of defeat in her voice, Evelyn reached forward and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“No. There is always hope. France may fall, but her people will not. You will continue to fight in any way possible,” she said firmly. “The French army is not France. You are.”
Josephine turned to meet her gaze, smiling tremulously and nodding.
“You’re right. No matter what happens, we will resist.”
“And you will do so with England behind you.”
Henry pulled the car to a stop and got out, watching as a small airplane lifted off at the end of the landing strip. There was no sign of another plane in the vicinity, and he turned to look at the main hangar. After hesitating for a minute, he got back behind the wheel and drove towards the large building in the distance. Someone there would know if the flight from Switzerland had arrived and, if so, where it was.
He’d passed only one other vehicle on the road to the airfield, a small Renault. The driver was a man who looked every inch a Frenchman, and as Henry had passed them, he got a good look at the passenger. She had dark hair and was dressed in a pale blue frock with white around the collar. He dismissed the couple as soon as they passed. If he knew anything about women, it was that they did not travel in day dresses. It could not have been the woman arriving from Switzerland. That woman hadn’t been dressed for travel.
Henry had hoped as he sped on towards the airfield that the flight hadn’t arrived yet. But, as he pulled up to the open hangar, he had a sinking feeling that the airplane he’d just witnessed taking off was the airplane in question. He switched off the engine and got out, looking towards two mechanics crossing the hangar.
“Pardon!” he called.
They stopped and looked at him. “Yes?”
“I’m looking for an airplane. It was supposed to arrive from Switzerland.”
“You just missed it. It came in and refueled, then took off again,” one of the men told him, shaking his head.
“Was there a passenger?”
The man looked at his companion. “I didn’t see it land. You did. Was there a passenger?”
The other mechanic nodded, wiping his hands on a rag. “Yes. A woman got off. I saw her as I went for a tool. Beautiful woman, with gold hair.”
“Gold hair?” Henry repeated. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see where she went?”
“No. I went back to work while she was taking leave of the pilot.”
Henry suppressed a curse and nodded. “Thank you.”
He turned to leave, then turned back suddenly. “Did you overhear where the airplane was going?”
“No. The pilot never left the plane. Stayed onboard while it refueled,” the first man said.
“All right. Thank you.”
Henry turned and strode back to his car, his lips pressed together. A blonde woman got off, the pilot refueled and took off again almost immediately, and he had missed it all. At least he was sure of one thing: the car he had passed on the road had most certainly not had a blonde woman inside. But that was the only vehicle on the road to Paris. So where had she gone?
Henry paused at his car and turned to look at the airfield again. Had she got back on the airplane before it took off? Or had she gone in the opposite direction, away from Paris?
“Damn!”
On that muttered exclamation, Henry got behind the wheel and started the engine. He’d missed her. He’d missed his only chance to catch a glimpse of the person he was convinced could lead him to the package Ainsworth had so effectively hidden.
His only hope now was that Berlin, or his man in Bern, would come through with useful information on the farmer’s remaining relatives. He knew he had a son. He remembered that much. Had he had a daughter? Or was the son married? Or was the woman altogether unrelated to the deceased owner of the house in Blasenflue?
Henry scowled as he pulled away from the hangar. He hoped that wasn’t the case, for if it was, he would never track her down again. And she was the only lead he had to the package.
As he drove towards the road again, Henry didn’t notice the tall figure that moved out of the shadows behind the hangar, a hat pulled low over his brow. Dark eyes watched the black sedan as it drove away before the figure melted back into the shadows, disappearing around the back of the hangar.
Chapter Thirteen
As she got out of the car, Evelyn looked around the Paris street and felt almost befuddled. She’d only been away four days, yet the entire city was different. The usual cheerful bustle that she knew so well was gone. It was like driving through some kind of macabre model of Paris, one that was a mirror image of what it should be, but was not. Gone was the carefree spirit of the City of Lights. In its place was a surreal undercurrent of tension, evident in the hastened movements of what few people were out and about, moving around the city. Shops and cafés were sparsely populated, the amount of vehicles in the wide avenues was half what she was used to, and the pedestrians hurrying along the pavements looked harried and grim as they went on their way. This wasn’t the Paris she knew so well. This was a strange shell of a city that was desperately trying to remain calm in the face of the impending invasion.
“It’s different, isn’t it?” Josephine asked, joining her and seeing the look on her face. “I haven’t spent a lot of time in Paris, but even I can see the change.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Fleeing south.” Josephine hooked her arm through hers and led her across the sidewalk to the door of a tall apartment building. “We went to dinner last night when we arrived and the waiter told us that people have been packing up and leaving in droves since Sedan fell.”
Evelyn paused and glanced back at the street as a car drove slowly by, laden with boxes and suitcases that had been strapped to the roof.
“Where do they think they will go?” she wondered, almost to herself. “There is nowhere to go.”
“I know.” Josephine followed her gaze. “I think they are simply trying to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.” She looked at Evelyn. “Is this how it was in Brussels?”
Evelyn shrugged and followed her through the door. “It was more chaotic. Bombs were falling on the city outskirts, so there was panic. Some people were leaving without anything, and others were trying to take everything they could carry. The entire atmosphere was different.”
“Paris doesn’t seem to be in a panic. At least, not yet. Right now it seems simply resigned.”
“Exactly.”
Evelyn followed Josephine up a flight of wooden steps. The apartment building was modest, but seemed clean. The walls were covered in fairly new paper and the steps were swept clean of any dust. While she wasn’t familiar with this section of the city, Evelyn was relieved that it appeared respectable and safe. When Josephine had mentioned a modest apartment, she hadn’t known quite what to expect.
“Whose apartment is this?” she asked.
“It belongs to a nice lady who is currently in Spain. Somewhere in the south, I believe. She allows me to use it when I’m in Paris, but as I said, I don’t come very often.”
“Who is she?”
“A friend of my Tante Elizabeth.” Josephine stopped outside a door and unlocked it, pushing it open. “She’s always been very fond of my father. When she heard that I was traveling quite a bit, she offered it to me.”
“Does your Tante Elizabeth know what you do?”
“Goodness, no. She’d never approve. She thinks I’m a student, studying botany.”
“Botany!” Evelyn looked at her in amusement and Josephine grinned, motioning her into the apartment.
“Yes. Studying plants takes me all over France.”
Evelyn couldn’t stop a chuckle. “Well, that would certainly be true. What an ingenious idea! Do you like plants and gardening, then?”
“I do, actually. I used to keep a wonderful garden at my father’s house near Lyons, but that was a few years ago now.” Josephine closed the door and looked around. “Well, this is it. It’s not very large, but it’s clean and comfortable. This is the sitting room, and the kitchen is through there. If you come this way, there is a hallway to lead to the bedrooms. There are only two, but I’m in the larger one and there is plenty of room for both of us.”
“And Finn?”
“He’ll be along when he’s parked the car. Are you hungry?”
“No, but I’d love some coffee.”
“I’ll make some. I bought the last can at the store last night. Here’s the bedroom. The washroom is through there. I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up after your flight. How was it, by the way?”
“We had to change routes twice to avoid the Luftwaffe. The first time was a squadron of fighters, and the second was a group of bombers.”
“Where?”
Evelyn glanced at her as she set her suitcase down next to the bed. “Over Dijon, and again between there and Paris. The pilot thought they may have been coming from the area of Nancy.”
Josephine swallowed and nodded, her face a little pale. “I’m glad you were able to avoid them. I’ll go start the coffee.”
She left and Evelyn watched her go, a wave of empathy going over her. She’d been taken aback and sobered by the difference in Paris alone, but Josephine was watching it happen all over her country. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain, anger, and fear that her friend was experiencing. Her government had let her down, and now the Nazis were in France, moving to take complete control.
Turning away from the door, Evelyn looked around the bedroom. As Josephine had said, it was a large room with a double bed, a dresser, and vanity table and stool. She picked up the suitcase and set it on the bed, undoing the straps. There was no point in unpacking, but she would change into something that wasn’t travel-creased and brush her hair. Once she’d freshened up a bit, she would feel more like herself and would be able to think clearly. The first order of business was to send a message to London and alert Bill to the fact that the German troops were moving to the coast. She would include what little information she had, such as the bomber and fighter formations, but she didn’t imagine it would do much good at this point. Le Havre was out of the question now, and she would tell him as much. Their best option at this point was to go south, along with everyone else leaving Paris.
A frown settled over her brow as she pulled out a pair of wide-legged pants and a blouse. If the roads were clogged with refugees, it would be difficult to make it anywhere in any kind of timely fashion. She would be at the mercy of the traffic, just as they had been in Belgium. Evelyn remembered well the frustration of inching along roads that were packed with pedestrians, vehicles, horses, and carts. If that was to be the case here, she had no idea how long it would take to make her way south. She paused and lifted her head suddenly as a thought occurred to her. She was assuming she would have a car. They couldn’t expect Josephine to let them have her car. How on earth was she going to go south without a car?
Evelyn’s heart sank as she gathered her clothes and turned to go to the door. As she crossed the hallway to the bathroom, she chewed on her bottom lip. She supposed they might be able to find a couple of bicycles, but it was far from ideal. Still, if it was the only way to make it out of France, they would have to do whatever they could.
She just hoped they would make it. She’d escaped a German invasion twice now. How long would her luck hold? How long could she expect it to hold? And what would happen if she didn’t make it out this time?
A tall man climbed behind the wheel of a sedan and sat for a moment, staring across the meadow adjacent to the airfield with a scowl. He’d been on his way back to the car when the black sedan had come racing up the entrance road to the small airfield, drawing his attention. He hadn’t intended on staying to see who was in such a hurry to get to the airfield, but that changed when he caught sight of the driver as the car barreled past the outer building where he was standing. It was a face that he knew by sight, if not by name. He’d met him only once, in Berlin before the war, on one of the few occasions that he’d been ordered to attend a formal dinner. He couldn’t recall the name at the moment, although he had no doubt that it would come to him, but he never forgot a face. He couldn’t afford to. His life and success depended upon it.
And that face was, he knew, the face of their coveted spy in the heart of the British government.
The man knew beyond any shadow of doubt that the spy would never remember him. Few ever did. Even back then, he had worked hard to ensure that nothing stood out or called attention to himself. His entire career had been built on his ability to be invisible. He was Eisenjager, the assassin that was more myth than man. Most had no idea he existed, save for the men and women he dispatched with ruthless efficiency. No. Even if the man in the black sedan had noticed him, he would never be able to identify him. His cover was still intact.
Eisenjager drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, staring across the countryside without seeing any of it. He wasn’t concerned about his ability to catch up with Jian. He’d done it before. He had a mental note of the registration of the vehicle she was in, and knew he would be able to track her down without too much fuss. No. What concerned him now was the presence of one of Himmler’s moles. What was the spy doing here? Why was he looking for Jian, whom Eisenjager himself was under orders to eliminate? And how had he discovered that she was returning to France today? So many questions, and none of them were easily answered.
When the English spy had disappeared from Marle without a trace, Eisenjager had been furious. Not only had he lost his Belgian target, but also the elusive Jian, the woman who had evaded him in Norway weeks ago. His lips tightened as he reached down to turn the ignition key. It was all due to the incompetence of the SD. He couldn’t even completely lay the blame for the botched job at Hans Voss’ feet, although he would like nothing more, because the Obersturmbannführer had been just as much in the dark as he had been himself. He hadn’t known who the woman was until he saw her in person, at the same time that Eisenjager realized who she was. Whether Voss’ superiors in the SD had known the identity of their wanted courier was merely an academic question at this point. Because of their ineptitude, Eisenjager had lost not only his immediate target, but the spy he’d been hunting since he last saw her in Namsos.
He pulled out of his spot behind one of the smaller buildings and turned his car towards the road. When Voss had been ordered back to Berlin, Eisenjager had contacted his own handler in Hamburg. After apprising him of the situation, he’d received orders to remain in France and locate both the Belgian and the woman. His orders remained unchanged. They were both targets, and he was expected to eliminate them with all the expediency that he was known for. And so his hunt had begun again.
He’d managed to track them to Paris, but once there, even his skill failed him. It was too large of a city, and he had absolutely nothing to go on. After spending two days searching in Paris, he’d tried the airfield outside the city. He hadn’t been expecting to find anything of value. Instead, he’d learned that a small passenger plane carrying a single female had departed for Switzerland just that morning. The description had confirmed that he’d just missed Jian.
Eisenjager was nothing if not a patient man. Knowing that she’d gone to Switzerland, he debated following, but ultimately decided to remain in France. Given the advance of the German troops on all fronts, her departure from the mountain region would have to follow a limited flight plan. She would have to return to England either by way of France, or Spain. If she returned before France fell, she would undoubtedly go through France. It was inherently quicker, and if Jian was on the move, she would want to reach England sooner rather than later. If what everyone said was true, she was carrying several documents that the SD wanted back. She wouldn’t risk them falling back into her enemy’s hands now.
And so he had waited, and watched. He became friendly with several workers at the airfield, and gleaned information from them about the types of aircraft that came through daily. He learned that the small passenger plane that carried her to Switzerland made frequent stops at the airfield, always with different passengers. They believed its home airfield was in England, but no one could be sure. On the rare occasions that the pilots didn’t refuel and depart immediately, they never discussed anything other than the airplane itself. And they never stayed more than a few hours. It all amounted to one thing as far as he was concerned: the airplane was transporting men and women into Europe and back again. Only MI6 would have that kind of standing operation, and it further confirmed his belief that Jian would come back into France before making her way to England.
This morning, his patience had been rewarded when he watched her climb out of the passenger plane and accept a suitcase from the pilot. He had watched her leave with the couple in the gray sedan, noting the registration of the vehicle before turning to make his way to his own car. He had recognized the man, at least. He’d been surprised to see him get out of the car and take Jian’s suitcase. The last thing he’d heard about him was that he was somewhere in Holland after escaping from the Sudetenland. He was someone the Reich wanted back, and he would be sure to mention him in his next transmission. But what was he doing in France?
The woman was a mystery, but he had no doubt that she was part of the French network. She was a much more likely companion to the English spy than the man. But where was the Belgian? The man called Jens? Eisenjager shook his head and pulled onto the long road that would take him into Paris. The only way to discover that was to find Jian in Paris, and he would have to do it before the German spy did.
