Into the Iron Shadows, page 22
“Thank you.”
Henry turned away and continued towards the lift. Once the BEF was cut off from reinforcements, there would be nowhere for them to go. The cream of the British army would be trapped on the coast of France. Once their allies were taken prisoner, France would be forced to surrender. It was only a matter of time.
And then the Führer would control Europe to the Channel.
Henry stepped into the lift, nodding to the attendant. There was a time when he would have scoffed at the idea of Germany taking over so many countries in so short a time, but those days were long in the past. He had seen the power of the German armies, and the might of its air force. The Führer had brought Germany back into the forefront of global power. He had proven that the Third Reich was a force that could not be opposed. France was only another link in the chain; England was the next.
Once the opposition was quelled, Henry could then take his place in Berlin with the victors.
The lift came to a stop and the attendant opened the doors with a nod. Henry stepped out, turning down the corridor towards his room. In the meantime, however, he still had work to do both here in Paris and in London. He couldn’t celebrate yet. This war was far from over, and he still had to do his part.
A moment later, Henry was closing his door and unbuttoning his overcoat. He reached into his pocket to pull out the telegram, ripping it open as he crossed the room to the writing desk near the window. It was the message from Berlin that he’d been waiting for.
FARMER HAD TWO CHILDREN. SON OWNS A FARM WEST OF LUCERNE. DAUGHTER’S WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN. BELIEVED TO HAVE LEFT SWITZERLAND.
Henry dropped the telegram on the desk and turned to remove his coat. So the old man had a daughter. That had to have been the woman who visited the house, but why? Her father had been dead for over a year. Why return to an empty house, if not to look for something?
He draped his coat over the foot of the bed and pulled out a cigarette case. Taking one out, he tapped it on the case thoughtfully. Why hadn’t he known about the daughter before? His lips tightened suddenly and he made an impatient sound in his throat. Because she was a woman. The people in Berlin had obviously not considered that a man would confide in a daughter over a son.
“And so she is invisible,” he murmured to himself, lifting the cigarette to his lips with one hand while he fished in his pockets for his lighter. “It really is intolerable.”
He lit his cigarette and turned to go back to the desk, staring down at the telegram. Believed to have left Switzerland, but when? This week? Last month? Last year? Could they be any more vague?
His gaze shifted to the window and he went to stand beside it, staring down into the street below. He supposed she could have gone to the house to look around and revisit memories. Women were known to be emotional creatures. Yet he found it to be too much of a coincidence that she’d gone back to the house when she did. Smoking his cigarette slowly, Henry gazed pensively out the window. What did she know? Had the old man told her something about Ainsworth? Had he told her where to look if something happened to him?
Henry turned away from the window impatiently. They had searched the house. It was empty. But what if it wasn’t? What if they’d missed something? And what if she knew what it was? And had it now?
So many questions, and he was running out of time to find the answers. Soon he would be forced to remain in London as the German army swept through France. And once France surrendered, he would lose access to Paris. If the daughter was here in France, and he now believed that she was the one who got off the airplane, then this was his only opportunity to find her, and to find out what she knew.
Stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray, Henry sat down at the table and pulled a clean telegram sheet towards him. He would send an urgent message to his man in Bern. If anyone could dig up information on the children, he would be the one to do it. He may even know himself. He’d lived in the area for most of his life, and knew everyone worth knowing.
Composing the coded message, Henry felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. While he may only have a limited amount of time left in France, he knew that it would be enough if his contact came through with information quickly. He had at least another week before the situation became critical in France and he would be forced to leave. Plenty of time to find the daughter, and find out what she knew.
Henry didn’t know why he was so sure that it had something to do with Ainsworth, but he was convinced that it did. There was no one else the old man was close with. Oh, he’d had contact with other spies and so-called intelligence officers, but Ainsworth was the big fish. He was the one who mattered. All the others were small fry, and had been rolled up one by one before they finally made it to the old man. No. If she knew anything at all, Henry was positive it was about Ainsworth. It could lead him to the missing package, or at least point him in the right direction.
His pen paused and he looked up, staring at the window, lost in thought. Once he had the package back, he could focus all his energy on locating the mysterious Jian. Berlin wanted what Ainsworth had stolen back, but they wanted the English spy more. He didn’t know why, nor did he care. All he knew was that if he was able to hand both over to his handler, his place in Berlin would be assured. He would not only be the only spy left in England, but he would have the distinction of doing what the SS could not: locating the spy called Jian and leading them to her.
A cold smile twisted his lips and he returned his attention to the message before him. But first, the daughter must be found.
Chapter Twenty
Evelyn looked up as Josephine came out of the house, a sweater thrown around her shoulders. The day was coming to a close and a cool breeze was blowing across the small garden. Seeing the sweater, Evelyn realized that she was chilly and shivering. She had come outside for some fresh air over an hour before, settling on the soft ground beneath a tree, and had been lost in her own thoughts ever since.
“Aren’t you cold?” Josephine called.
“I wasn’t until I saw your sweater,” Evelyn replied with a laugh, preparing to get up. “Now I am.”
“Wait. I’ll get you something.”
Josephine turned and disappeared back into the house, reappearing a moment later with a man’s sweater.
“Yves said to use this. He keeps it near the back door for running out to the barn,” she said, crossing the garden and holding out the maroon cardigan.
“That’s very kind of him.” Evelyn took the sweater, pulling it around her shoulders as Josephine settled down beside her. “He’s going out of his way to help us.”
“He’s a good man. Once we got the soup cooking, he said he would make us some bread to take with us. He said it would give us more than some strawberries and beans to eat.”
Evelyn blinked. “He makes his own bread?”
“Yes. He seems to do everything. He told me when his wife was alive, he enjoyed helping her in the kitchen. Now that she’s gone, he prefers to cook for himself.” Josephine leaned back against the tree, her head on the side of the wide trunk. She stretched her legs out, facing diagonally from Evelyn, and exhaled contentedly. “He’s really an interesting character. Did you know that he has a small vineyard? He sells the grapes to a winemaker on the other side of Reims.”
“I saw it on the other side of the barn, but I didn’t know that was his.”
“Yes. He said the drought this year has been terrible for him.” Josephine paused then chuckled. “But then he said that the war is helping by making his other job lucrative.”
Evelyn grinned. “At least he has another form of income.” Then she sobered. “What will he do if...when the Germans occupy the area?”
“I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say. He’s too old to be sent to work in a factory. I suppose he’ll stay here and try to make a living with his grapes.”
They were both silent, sobered by the thought of the hardships ahead for the man who was doing so much for them.
“The papers he gave me are perfect,” Josephine said after a few moments, lowering her voice. “I wouldn’t know they weren’t real. He even aged the birth certificate. I have no idea how he did it, but it genuinely looks old. I don’t know why he isn’t working for the government.”
“What is your new name?”
“Jeannine Renaud.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Renaud.”
“I must destroy everything with my name on it. I thought I’d wait until after dinner and burn them in the fireplace. I don’t want to risk drawing attention with a fire outside.” Josephine paused for a moment, then cleared her throat. “He brought up a valid point when he gave them to me. I can’t go anywhere that anyone knows me for who I really am.”
Evelyn glanced at her. “Like Marseilles?”
“Yes. I was going to stay with an old friend of mine, and her husband was going to try to find me work in his factory. I can’t do that now.”
“What will you do?”
“I have absolutely no idea. I don’t have the funds to go where there’s no work. I just don’t know where to go.”
Evelyn frowned and thought for a moment. “What about Lyon?”
“Yves believes that that is where Marc and Luc are heading. If I end up there as well, it would defeat the purpose of us splitting up.”
“That’s true.” They were both silent again and then Evelyn looked at her consideringly. “You could always come all the way to Bordeaux and stay there. It’s a port city. I’m sure there must be work there.”
Josephine was silent for a moment, thinking. “I stayed there once with my parents for a holiday. Well, not in the city, but outside it. I was only a girl at the time. We stayed with friends of my mother in the country. I remember I loved it. The weather was warm and mild. It was near Saint-Émilion, I believe. What was the name of it?”
She fell silent, thinking, and Evelyn watched as a large hawk circled high above the house, looking for dinner. The bird of prey was completely unaware of the turmoil affecting its hunting ground below. Suddenly she envied the wildlife. They had no idea what was happening and were continuing their daily existence in complete ignorance of the war raging across their land.
“Castillon-sur-Dordogne!” Josephine exclaimed suddenly a few moments later, startling Evelyn out of her reverie. “That was it!”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s named after the river. I remember my father telling me when we went fishing during a picnic one day.”
“Do you think that’s a possibility?”
“It’s as good as any,” Josephine replied with a shrug. “If you cross the bridge, you’re in the country. I may be able to find a boarding house or someone with a room to let. It’s a large town, if I remember correctly.”
“Well, it’s a starting point, at any rate,” Evelyn said. “What kind of work will you get?”
“Any that I can find. I won’t be choosy. I can’t afford to be. I have enough francs to get there and find a room, but that’s it.”
“I can give you some money to help you get yourself settled,” Evelyn offered, thinking of the stacks of cash hidden in the bottom of her suitcase. “It will be enough to get started.”
“I can’t take your money,” Josephine said, shaking her head. “No. I will be fine.”
“What if you can’t find work right away?” Evelyn turned to face her with a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. After paying for your new papers, you can’t have very much left. Let me help you. If you must, consider it a loan.”
“Then what will you do if you can’t get back to England before the Germans come? I can’t leave you short.”
“Let me worry about that. Please. I’d like to help. You’ve done so much for me. Allow me to repay you.”
Josephine looked at her for a moment. “I’ve not done much at all,” she finally said. “No more than anyone else would have done.”
“Rubbish. You’ve been a friend, and helped me when I needed food, sleep, and a guide. And that’s not taking into account the little matter of your saving me from the Gestapo in Strasbourg.”
“Rubbish? Be careful. Your English is showing,” Josephine said with a grin. Then she sighed. “All those things I did precisely because I do consider you a friend. Well, perhaps not Strasbourg. But certainly everything afterwards. There is nothing to repay.”
“Then allow me to return the favor. Every time I see you, I’m in need of assistance. Now I can be of help to you.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment, then Josephine relented. “Very well.”
Evelyn smiled and stood up, brushing off her skirt and reaching out a hand to help Josephine up.
“Thank you. Now let’s go help Monsieur Michaud with the bread.”
Josephine stood up and hooked her arm through Evelyn’s as they walked towards the house.
“I’m so glad you decided to join the cause after Strasbourg,” she said with a smile. “You’re like the sister I never had.”
Evelyn laughed and squeezed her arm. “As are you. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“Of course! I’m like a cat. I always land on my feet.”
Eisenjager climbed out of the car and stretched, closing the door quietly. He had parked it behind a hedge along the lane leading to the house where Jian and her companions were staying. The sun had gone down over an hour before and he was surrounded by the kind of inky darkness that could only be found in the countryside away from a city. It reminded him of his home before he joined the military. His family had lived on a farm in the country. The economic crisis had hit them hard. When Hitler promised food and work, both he and his father had leapt at the chance. His father was able to revive his farm, and Eisenjager was able to make a career for himself in the newly formed Sicherheitsdienst des Reichsführers. Making his way through the darkness, he reflected on how very different things were now.
Yet the darkness was the same.
Holding a thin flashlight pointed to the ground, Eisenjager made his way across a fallow field in the direction of the house. They had come here the night before, and they hadn’t left yet. Just to be sure, though, he was going to look himself. After losing her in Marle, he wasn’t about to take the chance of the Englishwoman having slipped past him again.
His lips tightened as his foot slipped in a divot in the ground, sending him stumbling forward. He regained his balance easily, but turned his eyes back to the uneven terrain. When she and the man had been caught on the road with the advancing troops, Eisenjager had been well behind them. He came along the road to find them standing on a hill, confronted by a German officer, while his division waited in the road. He shook his head. He had felt a moment of enraged panic at the prospect of losing his target once again, but the emotion had faded as the officer turned to leave them. Whatever had been said, it had convinced him that they were no threat. For once, Eisenjager was not amused at the foolishness of others, but grateful that the commanding officer was unaware of the woman’s identity. If it had been one of the SS divisions, it could have ended very differently, and he would have lost the spy once again.
And then his controller in Hamburg would have been angry.
Through the darkness, a light flickered, drawing his attention up and away from the ground. The house was ahead of him, on the other side of a low, stone wall. He switched off the flashlight and slowly made his way forward in pitch blackness.
He had received a message from his handler this morning. His orders were to hold for now. They wanted to know why the spy from London was interested in Jian before confirming the order to terminate her. For that matter, Eisenjager wanted to know what his interest was as well. But he knew the Abwehr wouldn’t share that information with him. They would simply confirm or pull his standing order. For now, his instructions were to continue to watch her and monitor who she saw and where she went. He was to contact them again on the 27th, or if he thought she was about to leave France. On no account was he to allow anything to happen to the spy.
Easier said than done in the middle of an invasion.
Reaching the low wall, Eisenjager went over it and crept forward to crouch in the night under a tree. The house wasn’t big, but the front windows were large and light poured from them. The curtains hadn’t been closed and he could see right into the front room. It was empty now, but he waited patiently. Electricity was expensive. If the light had been left on, it was because someone was coming back into the room. All he needed to see was whether or not the spy was still there. If she was, he could return to his car and wait until morning. The only way back to the road was to pass him. He would be able to ensure they didn’t sneak away.
A moment later, an older man walked into the room carrying a glass in his hand. Right behind him was the man who had been with Jian this morning in the city. Eisenjager continued to watch. The two men settled down in chairs and the younger one lit a cigarette. There was no sign of the women.
Pursing his lips, Eisenjager waited another minute, then turned and went around the side of the house, keeping to the shadows. Perhaps they were in the kitchen, washing up.
He passed the car they had been driving this morning, but didn’t lend it any more than a cursory glance. The car meant nothing. It could belong to the man, and Jian could have snuck away on foot. She had done so in Marle. There was not saying she hadn’t once again. If she was still there now, however, the chances were high that she would remain for the night. In Marle, she knew she’d been seen. Of course she ran. But now, she had no idea he’d found her again; she thought she was safe.
Reaching a small garden behind the house, he moved along the edge, careful not to step into the light cast from the kitchen window. Peering out of the darkness, he felt a surge of satisfaction at the sight of both women standing near the window. They were busy with their hands, washing dishes no doubt. As he watched, the Englishwoman laughed at something the other said and he pressed his lips together. She really was a beautiful woman.
