The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  “People like me?” he grinned. “Are you throwing me in with the ruling classes? Far from it, m’dear. My family are naught but humble farmers.”

  She snorted inelegantly. “Humble, my foot. You can’t fool me, Officer Fred Durton. I know who your people are.”

  “Then you know we’re nowhere near peerage, for all our financial success,” he said cheerfully. “Speaking of peerage, how is the Honorable Miles Lacey?”

  “He’s fine. He’s doing much the same as you, flying patrols and never seeing an enemy wingtip.”

  “If this war doesn’t pick up soon, we’re going to die of boredom. I thought when Norway got overrun, we’d start to see something doing at last, but alas, nothing.” He tilted his head and looked at her. “Do you think Hitler will stop with Norway? Some of the others say that he can’t commit to an offensive in France while half his forces are tied up there.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” she said. “Half of his forces aren’t in Norway.”

  “You think he has more than we know about?” he asked skeptically. “I don’t know. They say his army and navy are over exaggerated.”

  “I wouldn’t put much stock in what they say,” she said dryly. “Whoever they are, they clearly don’t know a thing about the Germans.”

  “You think he’ll try for France, then?” Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully. For once, a laugh didn’t grace his lips and his eyes were somber. “He’ll run right into the BEF and the French army, not to mention the Maginot. It’s not finished, mind, but they say it’s impenetrable.”

  Evelyn’s lips tightened. “Nothing is ever impenetrable. There’s always a way in, or through.”

  “You sound as if you don’t think France will keep the Huns out,” he said with a frown. “They kept them out in the last war.”

  “Yes, but I’m very much afraid that this war will be nothing like the last war.”

  “Well, so far it’s been nothing but underwhelming,” he said decidedly, sliding off her desk. “I wish they’d make up their mind and just get on with it. I’m off to take my last flight. I’ll pick you up out front at five.”

  “Pick me up? For what?”

  He grinned and winked. “Dinner, of course. You really didn’t think you could just sneak back here and I wouldn’t notice, did you?”

  “Of course not, but you didn’t even ask if I wanted to go!”

  “Didn’t think it was necessary, m’dear. After all, a meal at the pub is a darn sight better than what you’ll get at the officer’s mess.”

  She made a face. “That’s only because our officer’s mess is far inferior to your officer’s mess,” she muttered. “I’m still cross about that. When I saw what you had available compared to what we have, well!”

  Fred grinned and went over to retrieve his hat.

  “I rest my case. I’ll pick you up at five.”

  “Have you fixed your car door yet?”

  “You ask me that every single time I take you out,” he said. “It’s almost as if you don’t trust it.”

  “It’s tied on with string!”

  “Jolly strong string, though. They use it on the airplanes!” He laughed and reached for the door. “It’s good to have you back, Evie. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Evelyn shook her head, chuckling as the door closed behind him. Fred was a rascal, but he really did make her laugh. Between Miles last night and Fred today, she felt well on her way to returning to normal.

  The smile faded as she picked up her pen and went back to the stack of mail that had been waiting for her. She wasn’t sure what normal was anymore, and as the war continued, she really believed that everything would change in ways that would defy ‘normal’ ever being the same again. Perhaps it would be people, like Fred and Miles and Robbie, who would remind her of what normal was, and who she was...

  And then maybe she could forget about who she was becoming.

  Chapter Five

  Antwerp, Belgium

  May 7

  Evelyn stepped out of the elevator and walked down the corridor, her suitcase in one hand and her purse in the other. The train ride from Paris had been long and she was tired, but it was late in the day and she knew she didn’t have time for a nap. She’d been delayed in Dover when the channel had been too rough for the small craft carrying her to France to cast off. When they finally did get underway, the channel was rougher than normal and she had spent much of the trip in her cabin below decks praying that the vessel wouldn’t capsize. Evelyn wasn’t prone to sea sickness, but even she had a few moments when she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have eaten the few biscuits with coffee that she had before departing. All had been well, however, and they had finally arrived in Calais as the fishermen were coming back from their morning runs. She had arrived in France, but she had missed the first train to Paris.

  Stopping in front of her room, Evelyn set down her case and unlocked the door. An hour spent waiting for the next train had caused her to miss the train to Brussels from Paris. After another hour spent waiting, she had finally been on her way once again. The delays, however, had rubbed her nerves raw, and the good-humor that had stayed with her since seeing Miles had rapidly dissipated. Now she was simply tired, hungry and not looking forward to going back to the train station in less than an hour to meet with the Dutch agent.

  She pushed the door open and picked up her case again. She’d get herself settled, then leave to meet Lars as arranged. Once the meeting was over, she was coming right back to the hotel, eating dinner and then going to bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to catch the train to Brussels for her meeting with Vladimir.

  Evelyn shook her head as she locked the door and turned around to survey her temporary home. How or where she was to meet the Soviet agent was a mystery. He’d given no instructions other than to be in Brussels on the eighth, so she could only assume that he would locate her. The thought of him knowing where she was when she had no idea where he would be was unnerving, but she had no other choice. If they wanted to continue receiving the intelligence that he was willing to pass to them, then she had to play by his rules. At least for the time being, she qualified, walking over to set her case down near the bed. Once they’d agreed on a method of communication, then she could lay down some ground rules of her own.

  Evelyn walked over to the window and looked out. Her room overlooked a courtyard at the back of the hotel. This was her first visit to Belgium, but she found it very similar to France. Not surprising, she supposed, sandwiched as it was between France and Holland. She did wish she had time to see more of it while she was here, but once again she found that she was pressed to complete her assignment and get out as quickly as possible. There would be no sightseeing in Antwerp, but perhaps she could squeeze in a few hours in Brussels.

  She turned away from the window reluctantly, knowing that she was unlikely to see much of Brussels either. It was just the way it was. Without knowing when the German forces would finally move towards France, she didn’t have the luxury of taking a few hours to look around the old city. Not unless she wanted to end up in the same situation she had in Oslo, fleeing ahead of rapidly advancing German forces.

  A shudder went through her. Fred had no idea what Hitler’s forces were capable of. None of them did. While he and Miles and Robbie knew that an attempt would be made on France, they really had no concept of how quickly it would happen when it finally did begin. Miles, at least, knew enough to know that it wouldn’t be anything like what they expected, but even he had no clear understanding of what to be prepared for. She did. She’d seen the speed with which the Germans had overtaken Norway, and she knew the exact numbers and sheer might of the Luftwaffe, and the damage they were capable of wreaking ahead of their ground troops. Blitzkrieg, they called it. Lightning war, and it was just that.

  Despite knowing how forcefully Hitler had moved into Poland, Denmark and Norway, many people believed that he wouldn’t make it into France, just as Fred didn’t believe it. Even the French High Comman
d and British Generals adhered to the stubborn belief that the German offensive would follow the same pattern as that of the last war.

  Evelyn picked up her suitcase and swung it onto the bed, undoing the leather straps. On the train, she’d overheard two French soldiers discussing General Gamelin’s steadfast commitment to defending the east side of France while advancing through Belgium if the Germans did attack. He was relying on the Maginot for defense, and expecting the Germans to follow the same battle order as they had in the last war. She shook her head as she opened her case and pulled out a skirt, laying it on the coverlet next to the case. Hitler was a fool if he committed to the same failed policies of the last war, and she knew he was far from a fool. No. He would be sure that his Generals came up with something that would work this time, an offensive plan that would utilize his air force, and the speed of his Wehrmacht.

  And after the success in Norway, he would be only emboldened to press into France. There was no reason for him not to be.

  She just hoped that she was out of Belgium before it happened.

  London, England

  The man poured himself a drink and turned to sit down before an open case. The wireless radio inside was ready to transmit, and he sipped his gin and tonic before pulling out his codebook. After consulting it for a few moments, he picked up a pencil and began writing out the message he was to send.

  He still couldn’t believe his good fortune in stumbling across this information. With the increased security in the building on Broadway, and with his own natural caution and reluctance to jeopardize his position, he’d been hard-pressed to find any information that was worth passing along to the people in Berlin. He’d had access to some, of course, but nothing truly worthy of impressing them. Thanks to the appalling carelessness of an upper-level chief in MI6, however, that had all changed abruptly two days before.

  The man smiled faintly as he wrote out the coded message. It was really quite ridiculous that an intelligence chief in his position would have been so careless as to leave the correspondence lying on a bench in St James Park Underground, but there you are. He had, and that mistake was now enabling himself to pass on the unexpected gold-mine of information to Berlin.

  This is what came of sticking rigidly to the old-school code when staffing the Secret Intelligence Service. Instead of selecting men of certain dispositions and abilities that lent themselves to clandestine work, they had turned to friends and cronies who had a family name and long-standing memberships to the exclusive clubs on St James Street. Fortunately for him, many of them didn’t have the faintest idea how to safeguard the information they were entrusted with.

  Information like the names of four new agents on the continent.

  The man finished writing out his message and read it through, nodding in satisfaction when he’d finished. That would do nicely. They would be very pleased with this in Berlin, and he just might get another reprieve from the whole Ainsworth affair.

  He took another sip of his gin and tonic and reached for the paddle of the radio.

  INFORMATION DISCOVERED REGARDING ATTEMPTS TO REBUILD INTELLIGENCE NETWORK ON CONTINENT. FOUR AGENTS HAVE BEEN RECUITED IN FRANCE, BELGIUM AND HOLLAND. IDENTITIES TO FOLLOW IN SEPARATE TRANSMISSION. AGENT IN BRUSSELS IS OF PARTICULAR INTEREST. – HENRY

  As he transmitted the coded message, the spy known as Henry pressed his lips together thoughtfully. This would definitely go a long way towards buying him time for the other issue that Berlin wanted resolved.

  The Ainsworth affair was proving to be an unexpected thorn in his side. When he told his handlers that he would have no problems uncovering what Robert Ainsworth had stolen in Switzerland over a year before, he had every confidence that he would be able to do just that. After all, there were only so many places Ainsworth could have hidden the information. And hidden it he obviously had, for not even a whisper of it had surfaced since his death. The very silence was evidence enough that no one else had discovered the information either. If they had, he would certainly have heard of it.

  Yet despite numerous months of searching, Henry was no closer to finding it than he was when Robert had died in Switzerland last fall. Not only was that frustrating him to no end, but it was frustrating his handlers in Berlin. They wanted the information back, and they wanted it yesterday. They were becoming increasingly more adamant that he locate it, and he couldn’t blame them. If it got out in the open...well, the results would be disastrous. He had to find it, but he needed more time.

  Henry sat back and reached for his drink. Hopefully this new bout of intelligence would buy him that time. Sending them four names of known agents would go a long way to appeasing them for now, but he knew it would be only temporary.

  He had to find the information Robert Ainsworth had stumbled across in Switzerland, and he had to find it before anyone else.

  Antwerp, Belgium

  Evelyn walked out of the elevator and looked around the lobby. There were few people about this late in the afternoon. It was that awkward time between lunch and dinner when guests were either still out enjoying the city, or changing for dinner. One man was checking in at the desk, two suitcases on the floor at either side of him, and a couple were just crossing from the front door towards the wide, curved staircase to the side of the elevator. Two porters stood near the front desk, talking in low tones as they waited for the next guest who would require their assistance.

  Glancing at the gold watch on her wrist, Evelyn moved towards the front door. She had plenty of time before she was due to meet Lars at the entrance of the station. There was no rush, and she had every intention of taking her time as she walked through the city. She may only have a few hours in Antwerp, but she wanted to enjoy what few hours she had. Would she ever come back?

  The question popped into her mind as Evelyn’s heels clicked on the marble floor. If the Germans invaded, she didn’t see much hope of Belgian forces holding out for very long on their own. Even when the French and English came to support them, it would still be a fight they were unlikely to win. If the Germans took control of Belgium, Evelyn didn’t know if she would be able to return, and if she did, it certainly wouldn’t be for a sightseeing tour. A shame, really. She’d always loved to travel, and now that she was doing so much of it, she couldn’t take the time enjoy the places she was going.

  Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention, and Evelyn glanced to her right. There, partially hidden behind a large potted plant, was a man seated in an armchair, flipping through a magazine. He had his legs crossed and his attention on the publication in his lap, but an icy chill went through her just the same. There was nothing overtly threatening about him. He seemed to be a man sitting in the lobby, waiting for someone. But she knew that he wasn’t. The hat on the small side table beside him was German-made, as were his shoes. He’d removed his coat, but she was willing to bet that that, too, was German, and probably black.

  He was an SS agent. Evelyn was positive of that as she moved across the lobby towards the door. She’d seen enough of them that she was getting to know their look, and their tailors. Her heart began pounding in her chest and she took a deep, steadying breath. The movement that had drawn her attention had been him re-crossing his legs. The man hadn’t even glanced up from his magazine as she crossed the lobby. He wasn’t showing the least sign of interest in her, and Evelyn knew that if he was interested in her, he would be watching her now. Instead, he appeared engrossed in his magazine.

  Watching him out of the corner of her eyes, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. From his position in the chair, he had a clear view of both the elevator and the stairs. He would be able to see who was coming and going, and then follow them without any issue or suspicion. Which begged the question: who was he waiting for? No one aside from Bill knew she was here, so it couldn’t possibly be her. Because of the spy known only as Henry, and his penchant for leaking her location every time she left England, the only person who knew anything about this side trip to Antwerp was Bill.
/>
  Exhaling, Evelyn was just beginning to breathe a little easier when the man looked up suddenly. He didn’t look at her, however, but instead directed his gaze to the stairs. Despite the fact that he didn’t appear to be interested in her, another chill went through her, and Evelyn glanced over her shoulder towards the stairs. The couple had started up the stairs, but a short, round man had come around the bend and was moving down the last few steps to the lobby. He was dressed in a brown suit that Evelyn immediately recognized as French and, as he descended the last few steps, the man in the chair closed his magazine.

  “Enjoy your afternoon, miss,” the doorman said politely, drawing Evelyn’s attention as he opened the door for her.

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I shall.”

  She walked out of the hotel and threw up a hand to her head as she stepped into the street and a sharp wind caught her fashionable blue hat, tilting it to the side. As she straightened it, Evelyn glanced back through the glass doors into the lobby. The man was still in the chair, but all his attention was focused on the short newcomer in the brown suit. Turning away and starting down the sidewalk, Evelyn was conscious of a sense of relief. For once, it wasn’t herself caught in the sights of a German agent, but someone else. While she had nothing but sympathy for the Frenchman, she was very grateful that she was in the clear. She’d only been in Belgium for four hours. The last thing she wanted was to already be compromised when she’d just arrived.

  As she made her way down the street towards a cigarette vendor on the corner, Evelyn allowed herself to relax. Bill had warned her that there would be SS agents in most of the hotels in Europe now, all watching and waiting. Until now, they had been watching and waiting for her, and she knew that she would back in the spotlight soon enough. The assassin known as Eisenjager had made that abundantly plain in Norway. But for this very moment, she was safe, and she was determined to enjoy the freedom as long as it lasted.