by CW Browning
The Iron Storm
CW Browning
About The Iron Storm
Stolen plans from Stuttgart. A ruthless SS officer. An MI6 agent recovering from her flight through Norway. Their deadly race to safety ahead of the Nazi war machine will test them all.
Tensions are high across Europe in the beginning of May, 1940. Hitler’s forces have all but won in Norway, and it’s only a matter of time before he turns his focus to France. When Evelyn Ainsworth is sent to Brussels, she knows the risk of staying too long. The plan is to get in, pick up a package, meet with her Soviet contact, and get out again as quickly as possible.
Obersturmbannführer Hans Voss knows the stolen plans are in Brussels, and is determined to hunt down the courier. But when the German armies invade Belgium before dawn, the city is thrown into chaos, and so are his chances of locating the missing package.
Armed with a packet that has already cost men their lives, Evelyn finds herself in a race to get the plans safely to France while Hitler’s army unleashes a storm against the Low Countries. Her flight is complicated by an enigmatic and friendly young Belgian who offers assistance, but who also carries a secret of his own.
Pursued by two of the Third Reich’s most dangerous men, Evelyn must trust her instincts to survive...
...or fall in the midst of The Iron Storm.
Author’s Note:
In May of 1940, the world watched as Nazi Germany overran Europe, sweeping across Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg and France. The French and English forces were overwhelmed and outmaneuvered in one of the fastest moving offensives the world had ever seen. Luxembourg fell in one day, Holland in five, and Belgium in eighteen. By the end of May, it was clear France would soon have no choice but to follow.
In the midst of this turmoil, Winston Churchill succeeded Neville Chamberlain to become Prime Minister of Britain. On the morning of May 10th, Hitler invaded the Low Countries. In the evening, Chamberlain resigned and King George invited Churchill to form a government in his name. With the pugnacious Churchill at the helm, England would rally and become the lone, defiant voice of opposition to Hitler’s Third Reich.
As the iron storm swept through France, the need for intelligence was never greater. Through all the chaos and terror, heroically brave men and women fought to move information to the English while they still could. If it weren’t for those men and women, and the contacts they made, the resistance networks would never have been able to accomplish all that they did. While they did amazing things as the war went on, and sacrificed their lives to continue to fight, it was all made possible by the few seeds that took root in those early days of May. A few precious men and women made a choice, and that choice would change the course of the world.
Table of Contents
The Iron Storm
Author’s Note:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
About the Author
Note from Author:
“The battle beginning today will decide the fate of the German nation for the next thousand years.”
~Adolf Hitler, May 10 1940
Prologue
Munich, Germany
A tall man stood at the window overlooking the city. Rain poured in sheets from thick, black clouds as the storm that had been threatening all morning broke. In the street below, people hurried past the apartment building huddled under their umbrellas, trying to get to their destinations as quickly as possible. He watched them for a moment dispassionately, unconsciously picking out the ones who would be easy targets from this angle. There were many, at least for him. His skill with a rifle was unrivaled. He never missed.
With a sudden frown, the man turned from his contemplation of the dreary scene below. That is, he’d never missed until Namsos.
The frown turned into a scowl as he went to pick up the empty suitcase near the closet door and carry it over to the bed. The last thing he remembered from that day was preparing to pull the trigger. He’d had the British agent in range. The shot couldn’t have been better, and he was assured of ending another successful assignment right then and there. Instead, he woke up with a splitting headache some time later, his target long gone. He discovered later that she had boarded a ship bound for Scotland. Jian had slipped through his fingers.
Eisenjager had failed.
His lips tightened unpleasantly as he opened the suitcase and lifted out the false bottom, setting it on the coverlet next to the case. It was the first time in over three years that he’d been unable to complete an assignment, and he didn’t even know the person responsible. He hadn’t heard or seen anything. Whoever had prevented him from pulling the trigger had moved like the wind, and disappeared just as quickly. After days of searching, he’d finally given up. As far as he could tell, he’d been attacked by a ghost. Nothing more.
But that ghost had cost him Jian, and placed him in the same company as the blasted Sicherheitsdienst des Reichsführers-SS. They had failed multiple times to apprehend the British agent, earning the Abwehr the job of locating her instead. Now he had failed as well, and Eisenjager did not take kindly to being in the same company as Himmler’s thugs. He had worked too hard to rise above them, only to find himself one of them again.
He turned to the desk in the corner and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a rectangular box. Setting it on the desk, he opened it to reveal the Browning HP-35 pistol nestled inside. Lifting one of the clips, he checked that it was filled with ammunition, then replaced it and closed the box. Going back into the drawer, he pulled out a locked metal box and dug his keys from his pocket. Finding the correct one, he unlocked the box and rifled through the collection of papers and passports inside. He selected a Swiss identity, then a Belgian one. After checking to ensure they were both in order, he pulled out a codebook and a stack of cash before closing and locking the box once more. He returned it to the drawer and carried both the gun and the paperwork back to the bed, placing them in the hidden compartment in the suitcase.
Namsos was in the past now. It was done and over. He’d find the British agent again, one day, and then she wouldn’t escape as easily. Until then, he had another target. He was leaving tonight for Austria, and then on to Switzerland, where he would change identities before making his way to Belgium. There, he would begin building his immaculate record yet again.
His lips tightened once again as he placed the false bottom back in the suitcase, concealing the weapon and paperwork.
And then he would continue his hunt for the ghost who had attacked him in that alley.
Chapter One
Lancashire, England
April 27, 1940
The gunshot echoed across the meadow, startling a group of rooks out of their chattering cluster high in a tree. They launched into the sky in a panic, swarming around in a black cloud before disappearing
over the horizon, heading away from the noise.
“Well done!” The groom grinned in approval. “You haven’t lost your eye, miss.”
“I should hope not, Barnes. My father would turn in his grave if I did.”
The groom chuckled fondly. “That he would, miss. Very proud of your shooting, Mr. Ainsworth was. He used to say that there was no better shot in the county.”
Evelyn Ainsworth swung the shotgun up to her shoulder and nodded to the stable hand standing some distance into the meadow. He fired a stone disc into the air and she followed it with the gun for a second before squeezing the trigger. The disc blew apart high in the air.
“He only said that when my brother wasn’t within hearing,” she said with a laugh, lowering her gun. “I’m no better than Robbie.”
“Master Robbie certainly has his moments,” Barnes acknowledged, “but you’re more consistent, miss. Always have been.”
Evelyn reloaded and lifted the gun again, nodding to the boy. A moment later, another shot rang out, and another disc shattered in mid-air. She’d been home for two days now and this was the first chance she’d had to steal away from her mother and Auntie Agatha. The morning was crisp, and the fresh air was better than anything the London doctor had prescribed for her. After spending five days in London being molly-coddled by a nurse, she’d finally been cleared to go home for a few days before returning to Northolt, and to work.
The ordeal in Norway had taken more out of her than she’d thought. Evelyn freely admitted that now as she lined up the next clay target before squeezing the trigger. While she had protested being forced to rest for five days, she acknowledged now that it had been desperately needed. Not just for her body, which had been strained with the flight across the mountains of Norway, but also for her soul. Or what was left of it.
Evelyn lowered the shotgun to reload again. The nightmares were beginning to lessen now, but the hollow ache was still there. She suspected that it would never leave. How could it, when she had been directly responsible for Peder’s death? It was something she would carry with her forever. That, and the memory of walking away from Anna and Erik, leaving them for to the safety of her own home while they were stuck there, fighting for theirs.
She raised the gun again and motioned to launch another target. Bill had told her repeatedly that she had done all she could, and she could do more to help them from here than she could from inside Norway. Evelyn knew he was right, that every scrap of intelligence that she could gather and bring back would get them one step closer to defeating the Nazis. But it didn’t make her feel any better when she considered that Anna may well already be dead. Despite Erik’s promise to get Peder’s radio fixed and contact MI6 with news, they’d had no word out of Norway since she arrived back. She had no way of knowing if they were even still alive.
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed and she squeezed the trigger. This was the war she had signed up to fight. It was one fought in the shadows, where the only certainty was that she would be unlikely to live long enough to see the end of it. And that was the fate Anna and Erik had accepted as well. She had known this from the beginning, since that day Bill had proposed that she come work with him at MI6. It was hardly a new development, but after Norway it was suddenly very, very real.
The clay target blew apart, but instead of clay shards, Evelyn saw a nameless German SS soldier with a hole in his chest sliding down a tree, illuminated by the dancing lights of a dozen flashlights. Swallowing, she blinked and refocused on the second target before squeezing the trigger again. She’d killed a man. Probably more than one. Her father had liked to say that she was the best shot in the county, had bragged about it to his friends. Little did he know that that skill would end up saving her life, and costing others theirs.
The disc shattered and she lowered her gun. Her breath was coming quickly and she felt hot and cold at the same time as she forced away the memories she couldn’t control. Taking a deep breath, Evelyn reached in her pocket for more shells.
She would get over this. She would become comfortable with a gun in her hands again, and she would conquer these feelings of panic and horror - even if it took weeks of shooting. She had to.
Jian had to go back into the field, and she had to leave these memories and their baggage behind.
Evelyn looked up in surprise when a shadow fell over her corner of the back terrace. A man stood on the other side of the low, stone wall that surrounded the patio. He had a hat pulled low over his brow and, as she looked up, he took it off and nodded to her.
“Afternoon, Miss Ainsworth,” he said politely. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”
“Not at all, Hanes.” Evelyn closed her book and smiled at him. “It’s Rex, isn’t it? Your first name?”
“Yes miss, but I really don’t think it’d be proper for you to call me as such,” Rex said with a flash of surprisingly white teeth. “You can call me Hanes, if you don’t mind. Best to keep up the appearances.”
“All right, if you wish,” she consented. “I do feel silly, though. You may be playing a gardener, but I know we owe you a much larger debt for agreeing to be here. Have you settled in all right? Bill said you seem to be enjoying it.”
“I do. It’s a good corner of the world you have here.” Rex rubbed his neck. “It’s been very quiet. I’ll be surprised if our mystery man returns to cause any trouble.”
“I agree, but Bill seems to think there’s some danger of another break-in.” Evelyn tilted her head and studied the man over the wall. “If he does return, what are your orders?”
“To detain him,” he said promptly. “He’ll get a nasty welcome if he comes sneaking around again, that’s for certain.”
“Well, I’m very grateful that you’re here to keep an eye on things,” she said. “If my brother knew, I know he would add his thanks. We were both very worried about leaving my mother here alone.”
“I understand.” Rex hesitated, then grinned. “I saw you out shooting this morning. If you were here, I don’t fancy anyone’s chances, not with your eye.”
“Yes, well, I can’t be here so I’m very glad that you are.” Evelyn smiled. “I hope Auntie Agatha isn’t harassing you too much. I heard her complaining about the south lawn this morning.”
Rex chuckled and settled his cap back on his head.
“Your auntie doesn’t bother me one bit. Reminds me of my old Nin. I’d best be getting back before someone notices me talking to you. No sense in drawing attention to myself.”
Evelyn watched as he walked away and then turned her gaze to stare out over the rolling lawns. In the fall, while she was being chased from Oslo to Stockholm by the SS, someone had broken into the study here. Nothing was missing, which was odd enough, but there was no sign of anything having been touched either. Upon hearing about the strange incident, she’d immediately become suspicious. William Buckley, her handler, had also been disturbed by the break-in. So much so that he’d placed one of his men undercover as the new gardener at Ainsworth Manor to keep an eye on things. Well, to keep an eye on the box, she qualified to herself, setting the book aside and getting up to walk restlessly over to the low wall. It was all about the box that her father had left her right before he had the temerity to up and die in Switzerland.
Late afternoon sun drenched the rolling, manicured lawns as she gazed unseeingly into the distance. She had been trying to get the Chinese puzzle box open since Christmas, visiting home every chance she got to work on it. So far, it had all been for naught. Yet inside that box lay something that was worth breaking into the house to find, and she had to get it out.
Oh Dad, what if it’s finally the one I can’t figure out? She wondered, glancing up at the cloudless sky. What if I never find what it is you hid inside?
Evelyn turned her head sharply as something caught her attention to the left. There, in the distance, a black car was speeding up the long driveway on its way to the house. Frowning, she watched as it flew along, then gasped when she recognized the Lagonda.<
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Turning, she strode across the terrace and into the house, almost running through the drawing room until she reached the main hall. She skidded to a sudden stop in the vast, marbled hall when she almost ran into her Aunt Agatha.
“Auntie!” she gasped, grabbing her arm to steady herself.
“Good grief, child! Where are you tearing off to?” The tall woman steadied her and stared down at her in astonishment. “You came out of there like a bat out of hell.”
Aunt Agatha stood just shy of five foot eleven inches tall, and was as solid an Englishwoman as had ever been. Dressed in a tweed skirt and a matching brown tweed jacket, she looked every inch the English countrywoman. There could never be any doubt as to her heritage as a member of one of the oldest families in England. She was militant and terrifying, and Evelyn and Robbie were extremely proud to call her Auntie.
“I’m sorry, Auntie. It’s Robbie! I saw him driving up to the house from the back terrace.” Evelyn laughed and turned towards the front door. “Did you know he was coming?”
“Robbie!” Agatha set down the basket of freshly cut flowers that she was carrying. “No. He mentioned in his last letter that he might get a few days next month, but not a word about coming this soon. I’ll go and fetch Madeleine. She’ll be so happy!”
Evelyn nodded and ran to the door, pulling it open and stepping onto the front porch. The low-slung sports car that she and her brother shared was just rounding the curve to pull in front of the house. When she emerged, it beeped and she laughed, waving gaily. As soon as it stopped, she ran down the shallow steps.
A tall man got out and the sun caught his light brown hair, glinting against the golden highlights. As Evelyn ran towards him, he laughed and met her halfway, grabbing her by her waist and swinging her around.
“Evie!” he exclaimed, his handsome face laughing into hers. “What are you doing here?”