The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  “In a way. The government hierarchy will nominate the next Prime Minister,” Miles explained. “It will be the party leaders who nominate the next one if they get Chamberlain out.”

  “Nominate? If the people don’t vote on it, who do they nominate to?”

  “The King, dear boy,” Rob drawled with a grin. “We do still have one, you know.”

  “Yes, but...does he actually have a say?” Chris demanded, surprised. “I thought he was just more of a figurehead.”

  “Figurehead he may be, but his is the only say that matters,” Miles said. “He approves and appoints all Prime Ministers. In fact, he has to invite them to form a government in his name.”

  Chris shook his head and drank some beer. “I’m glad I’m American,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t see what a King has to do with the government.”

  “Well, of course you don’t. You don’t have a monarchy.”

  “Thank God!” Chris was quiet for a minute, then he looked up. “Is that really what’s going to happen? Do you think the Prime Minister will be kicked out?”

  “I think it highly likely,” Miles said with a nod. “Things are getting heated in Parliament and, as Rob said, it’s utter chaos. We need a united government if we want any hope of winning this war, and Chamberlain clearly is not the one to manage it.”

  “You really need to read the newspapers from today. It’s already happened. Parliament held a vote of no-confidence today,” Rob told him. “Lloyd George said that since Chamberlain has asked for sacrifice from the people for the war, he could think of no better sacrifice than for Chamberlain to give up his place in office.”

  Miles was surprised into a burst of laughter. “He didn’t!”

  “He did! Or something thereabouts. Anyway, they called a vote of no-confidence, but Chamberlain survived it by something like eighty votes.” Rob reached for his beer. “Mind you, half his own party abstained from the vote, and if it weren’t for the House of Lords, he would have lost it.”

  “That doesn’t show much confidence, does it?” Miles asked, shaking his head. “He may have survived it, but if his own party won’t unite behind him...”

  “What does that mean?” Chris asked. “Sorry to be the obtuse American, but if he survived a vote to kick him out, then it’s all over, right?”

  “Wrong, dear Colonial,” Rob said with a grin. “It’s just getting started.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not surprised, Yank. Most of England doesn’t understand how our government gets on,” Miles said with a laugh. “Chamberlain isn’t out of the woods yet. In fact, he’s gone deeper into it. The Houses will have to decide what to do now, and if there were a lot from his own party who declined to pass judgment, it shows that he doesn’t even have the confidence of his own party. They’ll most likely hold another vote after another round of debates. Something will have to be done.”

  Rob drained his pint. “And done soon. Hitler isn’t going to wait forever to get moving towards France, and when he does, we need a united government in London. Hitler knows we’re in chaos in Whitehall. He must know that now is his best chance of getting into England. At least, he does if he has an ounce of sense in that smug head of his.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, picking up his empty glass. He glanced at the other two. “I’m for another. Miles?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Chris?”

  “I’m all right. I’m still working my way through this one.”

  Rob nodded and turned to go to the bar. Once he’d gone, Chris looked at Miles and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “You both seem very calm considering that, if what you’re saying is true, you won’t have a Prime Minister soon.”

  “Oh we’ll have one. We just don’t know who.” Miles grinned. “There’s no point in being upset over it. Neither of us like Chamberlain, and whoever takes his place can’t do much worse as regards this war. So what’s the sense in being bothered?”

  Chris was silent for a long moment, then he exhaled and reached for his beer.

  “Well, I guess when you put it that way,” he said. “Here’s hoping it all works out for you. Otherwise, to hear you call it, the Krauts will march into England, and I’ll have to go back to Boston and be a respectable son and brother.”

  “Perish the thought, Yank.”

  Chapter Ten

  Evelyn smiled at the waiter and watched as he removed the empty plates from the table.

  “That was delicious,” she announced as the plates and utensils were cleared away. “I’m so glad you suggested this, Mssr Bernard.”

  “Please. I thought we agreed you’d call me Jens,” he said. “Each time you say Monsieur, I look around for someone older than myself.”

  Evelyn laughed and reached for her wine glass. “Fair enough. Jens it is, and you must call me Marie.”

  “Do you know what I’ve been wondering all through dinner?” he asked, pulling a cigarette case out from the inside pocket of his dinner jacket. “What are you doing all alone in Brussels?”

  “Who says I’m all alone?” she teased.

  “Well you haven’t mentioned anyone in the past hour that we’ve been talking. Are you here with someone?”

  “No, you’re quite right about my being alone.” Evelyn reached out and took one of the offered cigarettes. “I’m a secretary for a very prominent businessman. He asked me to come to deliver some papers to his associate. He was to have come himself, but got delayed in Zurich. Of course I was only too happy to do so, and now I have a few days holiday in Brussels.”

  “How fortunate for you.” Jens leaned forward to light her cigarette. “And for me. I’m having a wonderful time.”

  “So am I.”

  “Would you like another drink?” he asked, motioning to the waiter again.

  “Yes, all right.” Evelyn watched as he ordered another round and glanced at his empty glass. Jens had been drinking steadily throughout dinner, but wasn’t showing the slightest tendency towards inebriation. She would have to try something else to get him to talk about his work. Clearly the alcohol wasn’t doing the trick. “I don’t know how it is that I haven’t come to Brussels before now. It’s not as if it’s so very far away from Paris.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He tilted his head and studied her for a moment. “Do you like Paris?”

  “Oh yes, I love it. Have you ever been?”

  “No. Like you, I’m not sure why, but I’ve never gone. I’m hoping to change that soon.”

  “Well, if you really want to go, you’d best do it soon. Who knows how much longer...” her voice trailed off and she forced a smile. “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m sure Paris will always be Paris.”

  “These are definitely uncertain times we’re living in,” he said slowly. “I don’t think it will be long now. An invasion is inevitable.”

  “Do you think so too?” Evelyn blew smoke up towards the ceiling and looked at him. “I’m afraid no one in Paris wants to talk about it, but we’re all thinking the same thing. Is it the same here?”

  “Oh yes. We know it’s coming.” Jens shrugged. “For all of our determination to remain neutral, we all saw what happened to Norway. The Germans don’t care about neutrality, not really.”

  “You said you work in the government offices?”

  “That’s right.”

  Evelyn smiled and tapped her cigarette ash into the glass ashtray on the table. “I suppose you must hear and see more than most. If you think an invasion is inevitable, then I suppose all my hopes to the contrary are dashed.”

  He looked at her and his lips twisted wryly. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t do to hold on to many of those hopes,” he said gently. “I believe it really is inevitable. The only question is when.”

  “You said you work with radios, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Jens fell silent as the waiter approached with their drinks, setting them on the table. As soon as the man left,
he smiled at her sheepishly. “I’m afraid it’s rather dull work to most, but you seemed very interested this afternoon.”

  “Oh I am! As I said, I had a friend who was very clever with them. He built his own wireless set and used it to listen...well, he listened to the Germans, actually,” Evelyn said, lowering her voice. “His good friend actually managed to crack one of the codes that the naval stations used to communicate with Berlin.”

  Jens stared at her, his mouth dropping open. “No!”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course, it was all ancient Greek to me, you understand. But his friend actually discovered that the Germans were invading Norway a few hours before they got there.”

  “Why...but that’s amazing!” Jens lowered his voice and leaned forward. “We’ve been trying to break their codes for months!”

  “You have?” Evelyn opened her eyes very wide and stared at him. “I thought you worked for the government offices here, sending messages?”

  “That’s not entirely true. I do work for the government, but I’m with the Belgian State Security.”

  Evelyn swallowed and felt her heart leap. The Belgian State Security was Belgium’s intelligence division. If Jens really did work there, he would be a veritable wealth of information to take back to Bill, if she could get him to divulge it.

  “The State Security?” she repeated. “What’s that?”

  “It’s...well, I...we...intercept messages from the Germans and try to decipher them,” Jens told her, his voice low. “We’re part of the intelligence division, you see.”

  “Oh!” Evelyn reached for wine, her eyes very wide. “Do you mean...you’re trying to do what my friends were doing in Norway?”

  Jens smiled faintly. “Yes, I suppose so. But where we are only trying, it appears that your friends in Norway actually succeeded.”

  “It didn’t do them much good, in the end,” Evelyn said, remembering Peder laying in the snow with blood pouring from his leg. She repressed a shudder and forced a smile to her lips. “But if it makes you realize that it can be done, then I suppose that’s something.”

  “It is indeed.” Jens stared at her for a long moment. “You’re the strangest girl, Marie. I never tell anyone what I do all day, but here I’ve just told you and I don’t even feel like it was a mistake.”

  “It wasn’t,” she assured him with a light laugh. “My lips are sealed. And anyway, who would I tell? I don’t know anyone in Brussels but you!”

  Jens’ countenance lightened and he chuckled.

  “That’s true, isn’t it?” Sitting back, he reached for his drink. “Nevertheless, I still feel strange. It’s as if I’ve known you for months, rather than just a few hours.”

  “Please don’t feel strange. I may be a lowly secretary, but I’m not a fool. I know we’re all on the verge of being torn apart by this war. I’m certainly not going to do anything that will make it worse for us.” She was quiet for a moment, then she looked across the table into his eyes. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

  Jens didn’t answer immediately. He took a final drag of his cigarette, then put it out in the ashtray, pressing it into the bowl while he studied her thoughtfully.

  “I do,” he said quietly and with confidence. “They’re already making preparations. In fact, just today, a motorized column was seen moving west through the Ardennes from Germany.”

  “The Ardennes!” Evelyn gasped, staring at him. “But...why haven’t the Belgian forces stopped them?”

  Jens made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Because no one believes it’s the German army. Your country, my country, and even England all think that it’s impossible to move troops through the Ardennes. It is too heavily wooded, and the roads are too narrow.”

  “And yet you say columns were seen going through?”

  “That’s what the report said this afternoon.” Jens shook his head and reached for his drink. “But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about you. Have you always lived in Paris?”

  “No. I come from a little village in the south of France,” she lied easily, accommodating the change in subject without flinching. “I went to Paris to take a secretarial course, and loved it so much that I stayed. I’ve been there for two years now.”

  “I’d love to go. Is it as beautiful as the photographs make it look?”

  “More.” Evelyn smiled wistfully. “To go shopping on the Champs-Élysées and then stroll towards the Arc de Triomphe...well, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

  “And the restaurants? And the nightlife?”

  “There’s nothing like it anywhere,” she said promptly. “You really must come visit and see for yourself.”

  “I hope to soon. I actually have an...associate who lives just north of Paris. He’s been trying to get me to go for a holiday.”

  Evelyn smiled, not missing the slight hesitation before he settled on the word associate. It wasn’t a friend in France then, and that slight hesitation told her it wasn’t a work associate either.

  “If you decide to go, I’ll be happy to return the favor and show you some of Paris,” she said cheerfully. “It’s the least I can do for you when you’ve brought me here to dinner and saved me from eating a very solitary and lonely meal in my hotel.”

  Jens laughed. “Oh, that’s all right,” he said, waving away the remark. “I’m always looking for an excuse to come here. What hotel are you staying at?”

  “Hotel Le Plaza. Do you know it?”

  “Do I know it? Of course I do. Everyone in Brussels knows it!” He looked at her in some awe. “Your boss must be very prominent indeed if you’re staying there!”

  Evelyn smiled and shrugged. “He’s been very successful in some mining ventures,” she said. “I must admit that I’m enjoying the hotel, but I’m glad you invited me tonight. I’m having a wonderful time!”

  Jens smiled and pushed back his chair, standing and holding out his hand.

  “So am I. Come. Let’s dance.”

  “And forget all about what might happen tomorrow?” she asked, placing her hand in his and getting to her feet.

  His brown eyes met hers and he smiled warmly.

  “Precisely.”

  Chapter Eleven

  May 9

  Evelyn glanced up at the ornate door looming over her and reached for the handle. The Church of St. Michael & St Gudula was a massive Gothic structure that dominated an entire block of Brussels. Built from white stone, it was a towering expression of elegance and stunning architecture. She had no doubt that the number of faithful who came to worship here were at least partially drawn by the beauty of the church, if not entirely.

  Pulling open the door, she stepped out of the bright morning sun and into the darkened, hallowed walls of the ancient church. The smell of incense filled her nostrils and Evelyn swallowed, allowing the door to close behind her. She glanced at her watch in the gloom of the interior vestibule and exhaled silently. It was just before ten o’clock, and she had come in through the side as instructed in the terse note from Shustov the day before. Her footsteps echoed on ancient marble as she moved into the main sanctuary, looking around curiously.

  The inner sanctum was deserted this time of the morning, but the candles burning at the base of statues on either side of the massive altar in the front of the church indicated that she was not the first visitor today. After looking at the altar for a moment and taking in the stained glass window set far above in the back of the half-moon shaped chancel, Evelyn turned to look down the long nave of the church. It was lined on either side by massive, stone columns supporting ornate statues high above the rows of seating for the faithful. Raising her eyes to the statue closest to her, she let out a soft gasp at the work of art fixed onto the column. It was a man standing on a stone platform, dressed in the robes of the time of Christ. The marble beneath the statue proclaimed St. Thomas. He held a golden staff and seemed to be holding his hand up and expounding upon some prayer to the heavens. After a moment of staring up at t
he likeness of one the apostles, Evelyn tore her eyes away and scanned the long aisle of the nave. Six columns on either side supported twelve statues, all twelve of the Apostles of Christ.

  Glancing once more at the benign being encased in stone above her, she turned to walk towards the back of the church, looking for the statue of St. Simon. There was no sign of Vladimir, but she knew he must be here. He would show himself when he was ready, and that wouldn’t be until she’d located St. Simon and taken a seat, just as he had instructed. She shifted her purse to her other arm and was annoyed to find that her hand was trembling. Her lips pressed together in a frown and a wave of irritation went through her. This was ridiculous. There was no reason to be nervous. She was here because Shustov - Vladimir - wanted to speak to her. That was all. There was no reason for her heart to be suddenly pounding against her chest, or for her palms to be getting damp inside her leather kid gloves. She would meet with Vladimir, discuss how he would contact her moving forward, and then she would leave. After trying to extract some kind of information from him, she added to herself silently.

  After another exhale, she resisted the urge to shake her head. It was absurd. She wasn’t skilled enough to spy on a Soviet agent. Bill was out of his mind for thinking that she could, but she fully appreciated his position. Not only were they in a unique place of having inside information coming straight to them from Moscow, but thanks to her father and his ability to build relationships, they now had the opportunity to gain the trust of the Soviet agent who was willing to pass along his government’s secrets. It would be foolhardy in the extreme if they didn’t attempt to exploit the situation.

  Evelyn came to a stop before the last column on her right and glanced up at the engraved marble beneath the likeness of a man holding what appeared to be a giant golden saw. St Simon the Zealot. She looked around, then moved to seat herself a few rows in front of the column. Lowering her head as if in prayer, her eyes scanned the empty nave, searching the shadows cast by the tall columns. There was still no sign of Vladimir, and she looked at her watch. It was just past ten o’clock. She was here and on time. Where was he?