Into the Iron Shadows, page 2
Jean-Pierre closed the door behind him and set the suitcase down on the floor.
“I didn’t think to be here this soon either,” he admitted, taking off his hat and dropping it onto the table inside the door. “I’ll tell you about it once I’ve freshened up. Did you encounter any difficulties getting here?”
“None at all,” Jens said, holding out his hand with a grin. “We drove as if the Devil himself was chasing us and arrived early yesterday morning.”
“The Devil wouldn’t have been as dangerous,” Jean-Pierre said, shaking his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t have any trouble.”
“Have you eaten?” Evelyn asked, crossing the room. “We stopped at a market yesterday. There isn’t much, but I can make you toast and coffee.”
“That would be wonderful.” He smiled at her. “I left at dawn and drove straight here.”
Evelyn nodded and turned to go towards the kitchen down the hallway. “I’ll get it started.”
Jens followed her into the kitchen as Jean-Pierre carried his suitcase down the hallway to the bedroom.
“I can help you,” he offered. “Shall I make the toast?”
“If it’s a bother, I’m quite happy with bread and cheese,” Jean-Pierre called from down the hallway. “You did buy cheese?”
“Of course!” Evelyn called back with a laugh. “And fruit as well!”
“That’s perfect!”
Jens went into the small pantry to gather the food while Evelyn emptied the coffee pot and rinsed it to make a fresh one.
“What will you tell your people in London?” he asked in a low voice, emerging with a selection of cheeses and a bowl of fruit.
“That I’ve acquired a new friend,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll tell them that I think you would be very useful. I can’t imagine there will be a problem.”
“Then why are you worried?” Jens asked. “I have not known you long, Marie, but I am beginning to learn when you’re worried.”
Evelyn looked at him sheepishly and nodded. “I am worried,” she admitted, filling the coffee pot with fresh water and setting it on the stove burner. “It’s the timing, you see. I must go to Calais, but I’m afraid the passage is only for one. I’ll have to come back for you, or make arrangements for you to travel separately.”
“I’m quite capable of traveling on my own,” Jens said humorously.
“Yes, of course.” Evelyn scooped ground coffee into the percolator basket and closed the lid, bending to light the burner. “I’m thinking more of what happens if the German army makes it well into France before we can get you out.”
“Get who out?” Jean-Pierre asked, striding into the kitchen. He’d discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and he looked completely relaxed.
“Jens.” Evelyn said, turning to lean against the counter. “He’s coming back with me.”
“To England?” Jean-Pierre raised an eyebrow and glanced from one to the other. “Whatever for?”
“Well, I can’t go back to Brussels,” Jens said with a shrug, “and I don’t know anyone in France.”
“You know me,” Jean-Pierre pointed out, sitting down at the small table and reaching for a knife to cut the bread. “And you know Luc and Josephine. I would think you would want to stay here and help fight.”
“Yes, but how? I thought I was doing my part, but it turns out that all I was doing was sending information right back to the Nazis.” Jens seated himself at the table and reached for a strawberry. “If I go to England, at least they can put me to work.”
Jean-Pierre spread a freshly sliced piece of bread with cheese and glanced up at Evelyn. “And your boss is agreeable?”
She had the grace to look sheepish. “I don’t know yet.”
He nodded briskly and bit into his bread, chewing thoughtfully while he considered Jens.
“If you’d rather remain here, I can set you up and give you work,” he said after a moment. “There is much to be done, and if France falls, we will need all the help we can get. Someone with your training and skill with radios will be invaluable.”
“If France falls, surely, so will the networks?” Evelyn asked. “You can’t continue if France is occupied by the Nazis.”
“If the roles were reversed, and it was England we were discussing, would you stop?” Jean-Pierre countered, his gray eyes meeting hers across the kitchen.
“No.” Evelyn pursed her lips for a moment. “But if France falls, you will have to stop at least for a short time. It will be too dangerous. The Nazis will be looking for anyone who opposes them.”
“We will have no choice,” he said grimly. “Luc is aware of this, as is Josephine. If that happens, we will be forced to go underground, but we will still continue. The trouble will be getting the information to people who can actually use it.”
“The English.” Jens said, reaching for another strawberry. “You’ll need radios.”
Jean-Pierre smiled. “Precisely.”
Jens glanced at Evelyn. “That is why you said you thought I would be valuable to your people.”
She nodded. “Yes. They would train you and then send you back here, or to Belgium.”
“We can do that here,” Jean-Pierre said, slicing off another piece of bread. “I’ll arrange for a new identity, a place to live, and a job. While you’re living the life of a respectable citizen, we’ll train you.”
Jens stared at him. “You can do all that?” he stammered. “Who are you?”
Something like a smile twisted Jean-Pierre’s lips briefly before he turned his attention back to spreading cheese on his bread. “Don’t worry about that. I’m in a position to do what I said, and I’ll do it gladly if it means that you can transmit the information we gather.”
Evelyn pressed her lips together, studying him from her place near the stove and echoing Jens’ question in her mind. Who was he? She had already determined that he worked in Paris in the government in some capacity, but how? How would he have the ability to create a whole new life for a perfect stranger? Was he a ranking official in the Deuxième Bureau de l'État-major général? If so, he was more at risk than people like Josephine. If France fell, he would be one of the first to be arrested.
He glanced up and caught her gaze, his gray eyes sober. He smiled faintly.
“You’re trying to decide what my occupation is,” he said in amusement. “You could simply ask.”
Evelyn nodded. “Very well. What is it that you do here in Paris?”
“I work in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I’m an assistant to what you would call the undersecretary. I work daily with the army and the Deuxième Bureau, and have made several very good friends in both. So you see, Monsieur Bernard will be in perfectly capable hands.”
“That was never in question,” she murmured, turning to pour the coffee into a cup. “What will you do if France falls?”
“I’ll remain in the government for as long as possible. Then,” he shrugged, accepting the cup of coffee from her with a nod of thanks, “I shall do what I must. My family has a business that will no doubt continue to thrive regardless of what happens, and that is where I will go if there is no other alternative.”
“What kind of business?” Jens asked curiously.
“Shipping.” Jean-Pierre sipped his coffee appreciatively. “We have offices in America, Spain, Canada, and Barbados, to name a few that are so far unaffected by the war.”
“What on earth are you doing in Paris, then?”
“Trying to save my country.”
“You say it’s your family’s business?” Evelyn asked, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have anything to do with it?”
“No. I’m a shareholder and am briefed on the quarterly accounts, but the daily running of the business I leave to my father and brother. They are far more interested and skilled than myself. I went into government instead of shipping, to their everlasting confusion.”
Evelyn smiled faintly at that. “Are they still in France?”
“No. My father is in New York, and my brother runs the office in Spain.” He looked from one to the other. “But that is quite enough about me. We need to discuss the two men who were chasing you in Marle. They left the village before I could find out very much about them.”
“What is there to find out?” Jens asked. “I thought we’d already established that they were German agents.”
“Yes, but who? And which one of you were they after?”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “I thought they were after the packet I carried from Antwerp.”
“So did I, until I went to Asp’s house yesterday morning before the police got there. I arrived before anyone knew anything was amiss. I’m the one who called the police.” Jean-Pierre wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it down. “I’ve taken care of the body, by the way. I removed the blanket and the pistol. Did you know you’d left it on the floor?”
“Pistol?” Jens repeated. “I’d completely forgotten about it!”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Evelyn said. “I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”
“Well, I took it so that the police wouldn’t think there was anyone else there. The way he fell, it could have been an accident. That’s what the police think, anyway. It turns out that no one actually saw you go to the house that night, so they are treating it as an unfortunate accident.”
“Well that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Jens asked.
“It is.” He nodded. “The less people who know you were even in the village, the better it is for all of us.”
“Why do you question who it is the German agents were after?” Evelyn asked. “What happened to make you think it wasn’t me after all?”
“I found a letter that Asp must have been in the process of writing when you arrived. It was addressed only to “My dear,” so the intended recipient is a mystery, but he said he’d received a visit from a very unexpected person. He went on to say that his visitor knew about the man from Brussels and was waiting for him to come.”
Evelyn stared at him before slowly turning to look at Jens. His face had paled considerably and he was staring at Marcel with wide eyes.
“Who was the visitor?” he whispered.
“That, my friend, is also a mystery. There was no hint of his identity in the letter, but there can be no doubt that ‘the man from Brussels’ is you. And so I must ask you, Mssr. Bernard, why would German agents be looking for you?”
Chapter Two
Evelyn looked up as Jean-Pierre walked into the living room. She was seated at the small writing table near the window, composing a short message for Jens to transmit to Bill acknowledging the new instructions.
“Jens is having a bath,” he said, walking over to the sideboard and opening a cigarette box. “He’s considering staying here with me. He’ll decide while he’s washing so you will know how to respond to your superior.”
“Will you really train him and provide a whole new identity?” she asked, turning in her chair to look across the room at him.
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?”
“Because I can use a skilled radio operator, and if France does fall, he will be invaluable.”
“Despite the fact that the Germans are obviously aware of his existence and presence here in France?” she asked, standing and crossing the room to accept a proffered cigarette.
“Tell me, how do you think they became aware of his location?” he asked, lighting her cigarette for her before turning the match to his own.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that they are. I was certain they had been following me.”
“And they may well have been. We can’t dismiss that possibility.” Jean-Pierre blew smoke up towards the ceiling and turned to go over to the sofa, seating himself. “There were too many reports of an SS agent on the trail of the courier to simply ignore them. Do you want to know what I think?”
“What?” Evelyn crossed over to stand near the window, glancing out into the late morning sun.
“I think there were two agents in Marle, but I don’t think they were necessarily together. If they were, they both would have been seen, and yet only one was noticed by the villagers.”
“The SS officer?”
“Precisely. I had a description from the butcher, and it was different from the man who came to my house looking for the two of you.” He crossed his legs and looked across the room at her. “As bizarre as it sounds, I think the agent was on your trail and the mysterious man who came to my door was looking for our friend Jens.”
Something close to a chill went through Evelyn and she lifted her cigarette to her lips.
“And if that was the case, who was the mystery man?”
“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” Jean-Pierre tapped ash into the glass tray on the table at his elbow. “Whoever they were, they’re both gone now. They’ve undoubtedly gone back to Germany now that they lost your trail.”
Evelyn turned her attention out the window, her lips tightening. Who was the tall man who had chased them down the alley beside Ash’s house? If he wasn’t part of the SS then who was he? Another chill went through her and her mind went back to a cold and snowy mountainside in Norway. She had been huddled behind a bush in the darkness the first time she heard the name of the assassin who tracked her through the mountains on her way to Namsos.
Eisenjager.
Almost as soon as the thought came into her head, she frowned and dismissed it. What interest could the infamous German assassin possibly have in Jens Bernard? If everything she’d learned about the Iron Hunter was true, he was only sent after high value targets. Targets like herself, although why they thought she was high value was also a mystery.
“What if they haven’t?” Evelyn turned to walk over to the sofa. “What if they’re still in France?”
“Then the sooner you get back to England, the better.” He watched as she sat beside him. “You are going back, are you not?”
“Yes. I’m leaving in the morning.” Evelyn glanced at him. “And Jens?”
“If he decides to stay and work with us, I’ll see to his safety,” he assured her. “And even if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he’s kept hidden until you can get him to England.”
“How? With the German armies advancing so quickly...”
“Let me worry about that.” He stubbed out his cigarette and shot her a small smile. “You just concern yourself with getting that packet you’re carrying safely to London, or everything that we did in Marle will be for nothing.”
15th May, 1940
Dear Evelyn,
How are you? It feels like an age since I’ve seen you, even though it’s only been a few weeks. We’ve been busy here, up flying every day, and I still haven’t seen hide nor hair of a Jerry. A couple of the chaps saw some action on Monday, lucky blighters. They bagged themselves a Junkers, if you can believe that. Your brother dearest and yours truly were up over a different location at the time and had no such luck. But at least we know they’re out there, and any day I’ll get my chance. I don’t mind telling you, because I know you’ll understand, that I can’t wait to finally see some real fighting. I feel as though I’m just coasting through this war while our BEF is left holding the bag.
When you next hear from me, I shall be writing from a new station. I can’t tell you where, but I’ll say that it will put me further away from you. We’ll be joined by another squadron of Spits, 19 Squadron. I’ll miss this place. The CO says that we’re going to a new station, with brand new buildings and the like. It’s meant to be for the bombers, but we’ll be staying there for a bit. I think they’re going to move us somewhere again, but the CO is keeping mum about it. Why else stick us on a bomber station that was just finished if it isn’t temporary?
All of this means, of course, that our stolen hours in London or in pubs between our stations will become more difficult. We’ll have to wait for a proper leave and, with the way Hitler is moving through the Low Countries, time off will be harder to come by. I’ll miss seeing you somewhat regularly. Will you miss me?
Rob was trying to get hold of you earlier to tell you the news, but he wasn’t able to get through. Are you off on one of your training stints again? If so, you barely had time to get your bag unpacked from the last one. I hope that’s not the case, for your sake.
Well, I’m for my bed. I have an early flight tomorrow. Another patrol. Will tomorrow be the day I finally catch sight of some Jerries? One can only hope.
Always yours,
FO Miles Lacey
Paris
May 15
Evelyn set her case down near the door and turned to hold her hands out to Jens.
“You promise me that you will take care of yourself,” she said, grasping his hands. “We didn’t make it all the way from Brussels just so that you could go getting yourself caught here in France.”
Jens grinned and leaned down to accept a kiss on each cheek from her. “I can’t promise that I won’t ever get caught, but I do promise to take care of myself.” He straightened up and smiled down at her, his eyes warm. “You understand, don’t you? Why I’ve decided to remain here and not go to England?”
She smiled and squeezed his hands before releasing them. “Of course I do. I’m glad you’ll be in good hands.” She turned to hold her hand out to Jean-Pierre, meeting his gray eyes. “Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank,” he replied with an easy smile, grasping her hand. “I’m happy to have him, and it was a pleasure to work with you, even if it was briefly. Josephine thinks highly of you, and that’s quite a recommendation, I assure you. She doesn’t like anyone, or so I’m told. How will you go to Calais?”
“I’m taking the train.” Evelyn released his hand and bent to pick up her suitcase. “Or at least, I will if I don’t miss it.”
“You’ll reach the station with time to spare.”
She nodded and turned for the door, then hesitated. Turning back, she looked at Jens.
