by CW Browning
“I could ask you the same!” she retorted, kissing his cheek as he set her down. “I’m home for a few days of unexpected leave. You?”
“I only have a few hours, more’s the pity,” he said, turning to walk with her towards the steps. “I’m on my way to Catterick to pick up Slippy, one of the other pilots, y’know. He ran into engine trouble this morning and had to make an emergency landing up there.”
“Is he all right?”
“Oh, he’s fine! The kite’s rather a mess, but he’s right as rain.” Rob looked down at her. “It’s really good to see you, Evie. Do you know I think Miles sees you more than I do!”
“That’s because he drives to meet me for dinner or drinks at the pub,” she retorted, tucking her arm through his as they started up the steps to the door. “You’re more than welcome to join him, you know.”
“And be the odd man out? Good God no!” Rob looked up and nodded with a smile to the aging butler who’d appeared to stand ready at the door. “Hallo Thomas!”
“Welcome home, Mr. Ainsworth,” Thomas replied, his stoic face relaxing into a smile. “It’s very good to see you again.”
“Is Mother in?”
“I believe she’s in the library, sir,” Thomas told him, taking his hat from him.
“Will you have Wallace look at the car while I’m here?” Rob asked, stepping into the house. “It was making a bit of a knocking noise on the way up just now.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Robbie, if you’ve broken the car, I’ll have your head,” Evelyn said, walking with him across the hall. “When did you come and get it, anyway?”
“A couple of weeks ago. I took the American on a tour of the Cornish coast. Why? Did you want it?”
“No, that’s all right. I’ll take the train back to Northolt.”
“When are you due back?”
“Wednesday. I want to go into London for some shopping before I go, and I thought I’d see if Maryanne wants to have lunch. I miss the Gilhursts.”
“I saw Tony just the other week at the Savoy,” Rob said. “A few of us went into town for dinner. He asked after you. He says it’s terribly dull in London these days.”
“Sometimes I miss dull,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Evelyn smiled brightly as they went into the library. “Mum, look who I found loitering in the driveway!”
Mrs. Ainsworth got up from her chair and flew across the room, her arms outstretched.
“Robbie!” she cried. “How lovely! Agatha told me you’d arrived. Why didn’t you call to say you were coming?”
“And ruin the surprise?” he demanded, grasping her hands and bending to kiss her cheek. “Actually, I didn’t know I was. I’m on my way to pick up one of the boys at Catterick. Thought I’d stop in on my way.”
“Can you stay for dinner?”
“Yes, if it’s not too late.” Rob turned to cross the room. “Auntie Agatha! How are you?”
Agatha smiled and accepted a hug from him. “Very well, thank you.”
“I’ll go talk to Thomas about moving dinner forward,” Mrs. Ainsworth said, but Agatha clucked her tongue, stopping her.
“Nonsense,” she said, moving towards the door. “You sit and visit with Rob. I’ll go talk to Thomas.”
Rob grinned. “Don’t argue, Mum. She’s got that look in her eye.”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to argue. Come and sit and tell me all about what’s happening at Duxford,” Mrs. Ainsworth said, going back to her chair. “Evelyn, come sit with us.”
Evelyn shook her head, smiling at them fondly. “I’m going upstairs to rest for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. If you’re staying for dinner, Rob, I’ll see you then.”
“Rest?” Rob repeated, staring at her, aghast. “What on earth do you want to do that for?”
But Mrs. Ainsworth was looking at Evelyn in concern and she spoke before Evelyn could.
“Your sister’s getting over a bout with the flu,” she told him. “She looked terrible when she arrived the other day.”
“I’m fine now,” Evelyn said in exasperation. “I’m just a little tired.”
“How on earth did you manage to get the flu?” Rob asked, watching as she went to the door. “It’s been gorgeous weather!”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have got it, would I?”
Closing the door behind her, Evelyn exhaled silently. She hated lying to her mother, but when she arrived on Thursday, there had been no concealing her drastic weight-loss or the dark rings under her eyes. Both her mother and Agatha accepted the flu story without question, and had been coddling her ever since. Leave it to Robbie to be the one to call her out on it. Crossing the hall to the stairs, Evelyn had to admit that it had been lovely to relax and be waited on again. While her dreams still kept her up at night, at least during the day she was surrounded by love and peace. And it was going a long way to healing wounds that no one could see.
She started up the stairs, her hand on the banister. She had no intention of going upstairs to rest, of course. There was a box hidden in her wardrobe that needed her attention. Speaking with Hanes had only served to remind her that the sooner she discovered its secrets, the sooner they would have some clue as to who was trying to find it.
And the sooner they would have some idea of who the spy was who was so well-hidden in London.
Stuttgart, Germany
Obersturmbannführer Hans Voss stepped out of the small, cement room and closed the steel door behind himself. Sweat had beaded along his hairline and he reached up to wipe it away with a grimace of distaste before striding down the narrow corridor, his jacket draped over his arm. It had taken more exertion than he’d expected to get the traitor to talk, but in the end, the truth had come pouring out. It always did once Hans got his hands on someone.
On either side of him, cells just large enough for a single metal bed and a toilet were visible behind iron bars. Each cell was separated by a three-foot thick cement wall, and none of them had windows. The only light came from the row of bare bulbs hanging above his head as he strode past the bars, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of pale faces silently watching him pass by. Some were terrified, some resigned, and one had gone beyond both emotions to something close to madness. Seven men and one woman, all stripped to their underwear, and the only things they had in common were the daily interrogations they were subjected to. They had all been betrayed by someone close to them. The woman had been turned in by her husband. Some were suspected communists, and some, like the woman, were there because they had been caught with illegal materials in violation of the state. In her case, multiple copies of a London newspaper had been discovered in her possession. One of the men had a copy of a book written by a Jew, along with several recordings by Mendelssohn. Only one of the detainees had been brought in for being an active traitor, and he was behind the steel door Hans had just come through.
As he went towards the guard at the far end of the corridor, Hans tightened his jaw. The man’s name was Dieter, and he was a mechanic at the Daimler plant. Two nights before, blueprints for the new extension of the plant, and that of three other munitions factories in Stuttgart, had been stolen from the back of a staff car. Dieter had been the one to take them, but when they arrested him, the plans were nowhere to be found. After four hours of interrogation, the man had finally cracked, giving Voss what he wanted. The plans were on their way out of the country, bound for France and, ultimately, MI6.
Hans passed the last cell and joined the guard at the end of the hall.
“He’s dead,” he said shortly, jerking his head towards the steel door at the other end. “I’ll send someone down to clean up.”
“Yes, Obersturmbannführer,” the guard said smartly, saluting.
Hans nodded and pulled on his coat, straightening it in silence. Once he had it laying perfectly, he opened the door to the stairwell and started up the winding steps to the upper level of the townhouse. Before succu
mbing to his injuries, Dieter had informed him that there were also photographs of the Daimler plant, both from the air and from the ground, included with the stolen plans. Hans’ lips tightened. All of it was heading straight into the enemy’s hands. Not only that, but Dieter had no idea where or how the package was getting to France. Only the courier knew the routes, he’d gasped when pressed. No one else. He didn’t even know the name of the courier, or of the people the information went to. All he did was gather it and pass it on.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Hans opened another steel door and stepped into a hallway lined with wood paneling. He may not know the names of the agents carrying the information, but he knew where it was going. He could alert the men at the borders, but Hans knew it was useless now. The package had probably already left Germany. If he wanted to prevent it from falling into the hands of the English intelligence service, he would have to track it down immediately, and preferably before it made its way to France. Once it reached France, the likelihood of finding it before it went to England was slim. It was best to stop it before it crossed the French border.
Dieter had said the couriers traveled through Holland and Belgium. Voss had several agents in both countries. He would alert them to increase the surveillance on all known Allied agents. One of them would have to pass the package on, and when they did, Voss had a very real chance of getting it back. Even if it had already made it to Holland, it still had to go through Belgium.
That was where he would start.
Chapter Two
Evelyn set down the highly polished box and got up impatiently, crossing over to her bedroom window and throwing it open. She leaned out and took a deep, calming breath of fresh air. After working on the box solidly for over forty minutes, she was no closer to opening it than she had been last Christmas when she’d begun working on it in earnest. She had figured out some of the mechanisms, but couldn’t get past a certain point, despite trying all the tricks she’d learned over years from opening both Chinese and Japanese boxes.
What if this really is the one I can’t figure out? What then?
She supposed they could always destroy the box in order to get to the contents inside, but she hated to do that. It was the last gift her father had given her before he died. She didn’t want to destroy it.
Exhaling, Evelyn watched as a crow glided across the side lawn, heading for the trees. Perhaps she was trying too hard. Sometimes her father would say that she had a tendency to become trapped by her own tunnel-vision when she was working on something. Perhaps that was the problem now. Because she knew it was so important to get the box open, perhaps she wasn’t seeing anything else. Her lips curved suddenly as she remembered Sifu telling her the same thing. He had defeated her repeatedly with a single move for weeks before she finally saw her way out of that particular tunnel. Once she had, however, it was as if a flood-gate had been opened, and she quickly became the top student in the Wing Chun school. But that was in the distant past now, and did nothing to help her with her current predicament.
With a sigh, Evelyn turned from the window and looked at the box sitting on her desk. Unfortunately, this puzzle was nothing like learning a Chinese martial art. It was a test of her patience in a way that Wing Chun never had been, and she was very much afraid that it would be the test that she failed.
A soft knock fell on her bedroom door and it opened without waiting for an answer. Rob stuck his head in, peering around the edge of the door.
“Oh you’re up!” he said, stepping into the room. “I’m glad. I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.”
“No. I’ve been playing with that box,” she said, motioning towards the desk. “Dad gave it to me before his last trip.”
“Did he?” Rob walked over to the desk and picked up the box, examining it. “It’s very pretty. You know, I never could figure these things out. Don’t have the patience.”
“I’ll admit this one’s trying mine. I’ve been fiddling with it since Christmas, to absolutely no avail.”
“That’s unusual for you,” Rob said, putting it down and looking at her. “You usually had these open before anyone could blink. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Evelyn laughed and nodded, walking over to drop into the chair at her desk again.
“Yes. I think Dad finally found one that’s a devil to open, that’s all.” She watched as Rob sprawled across the foot of her bed. “How’s the flying?”
“We’re up every day now, flying patrols over the channel and North Sea. Lots of flying, very little action.” He propped himself on his elbow and studied her. “Mum’s right. You look awful.”
“Well thank you very much!”
He grinned. “Not to say that you ever looked especially good.”
Evelyn picked up a pencil and chucked it at him. “Miles doesn’t seem to have any complaints,” she retorted. “And neither does Fred.”
“Fred?” Rob raised his eyebrows in interest. “Is that the Hurricane pilot you’ve been so chummy with?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need to meet him? I rather thought you were fond of Miles.”
“I am fond of Miles, and no, you don’t need to meet him. It’s not that kind of friendship with Fred.” She picked up the box absently, turning it over in her hands. “Not that you need to meet any of my male friends. I’m quite capable of choosing my own mate, thank you very much.”
“I know you are, but you know Mum expects me to play head of household now. That involves keeping an eye on any prospective family members.” Rob tilted his head and, for once, the carefree smile was missing from his face. “It’s rather a heavy load, actually. I can’t fill Dad’s shoes. I’m having a hard enough time keeping this estate running while serving King and Country. Thank the good Lord for Damien, the steward Dad hired two years ago. I’d be lost without him.”
Evelyn looked up in surprise. “I had no idea you were struggling. Everything seems to be running the same as it always had.”
“I’m still finding my way. You wouldn’t believe how complicated everything is.” Rob exhaled and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Miles has been a shocking amount of help, actually. He’s got a real head for estate management, believe it or not. He’s been helping his father for years. Of course, it helps that they’re in the sheep business as well, so Miles has been able to give me some advice. Lord Lacey has nothing to worry about when he leaves his estate to Miles. He’ll be a good Baron, when the time comes.”
“It’s funny, I don’t even think of him as a future Baron,” she said slowly. “I just think of him as...well, as Miles.”
“Not one of the Yorkshire Laceys?” he asked teasingly. “Mum would be very disappointed.”
Evelyn laughed. “I have no reason to go social climbing. Not unless you manage to muck up our estate. So please, do try not to.”
“In all seriousness, Evie, are you very fond of Miles? He seems to be of you, but if you’re not, you’d best halt it now. I don’t want another Marc Fournier on my hands.”
Evelyn dropped her gaze to the glossy box in her hands, still turning it over absently.
“I am fond of him,” she said quietly, “but with the war on, it makes it very difficult. None of us know where we’ll be one moment to the next, so there’s really no point in looking ahead.”
“‘Course there is! If there’s no point in looking ahead, then what the bloody hell are we fighting for?” Rob sat up and shook his head. “Well, that’s all between you and Miles. As long as I don’t end up with him crying in my ear, I’ll leave you to it.”
“You never had Marc Fournier crying in your ear!” she exclaimed. “I never encouraged him even a bit!”
“You didn’t have to! He fell as soon as he clapped eyes on you. Ridiculous thing, that. I suppose it’s because he’s French.”
“We’re half-French,” she pointed out with a grin.
“Yes, and look at you with Miles,” he retorted. “I’ve never seen you take to someon
e so fast.”
“Well, if it’s the French blood in me, then you’re doomed. Perhaps I’ll start looking for nice young WAAFs to throw your way.”
The smile he gave her was decidedly wolfish. “No need, m’dear. I’m meeting quite enough on my own.”
Evelyn laughed and flipped the box in the air before moving to put it down. As it landed in her hands again, her fingers gripped one of the panels and it slid to the side. Hearing a click, she looked down and gasped as a tiny compartment slid open, revealing a catch.
“I’ve done it!” she cried, jumping up in her excitement. “Look!”
Rob stood up and glanced at the box in her hands. “Well done. What’s inside?”
“I’ve no idea.” She pressed the catch and watched as two more panels slid aside. “There’s still more to do, I think.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, turning for the door. “Dinner should be ready soon, thank God. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” she said absently, dropping back into the chair as she slid one of the new panels over. “I’ll be down in a little bit.”
Rob left the room and Evelyn pressed another panel. All of a sudden, there were a series of clicks and another panel slid aside, revealing a velvet-lined compartment. Her heart surged into her throat as a feeling of elation went through her. There, nestled in the center compartment of the box, was a folded piece of paper.
Evelyn pulled it out and set the box down on the desk, unfolding the scrap of paper. Across the paper, in her father’s distinctive hand-writing, was a single line. She stared at it, her forehead creasing into a frown. It looked like an address.
An address in Blasenflue, Switzerland.
Evelyn walked down the thickly carpeted corridor towards the stairs, smoothing a hand over the soft fabric of her skirt. She was wearing a dress that she’d bought in Paris in March but never got the chance to wear. It was part of the Spring collection, and she’d wondered at the time if she would have the opportunity to wear it at all this year. It may only be for dinner with her family, but she was glad to be wearing it now. It was a flattering shade of blue that made her feel pretty, even if she looked as awful as Robbie had said.