The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  Evelyn laughed and stood, looking up at him. “Elena?” she repeated. “Why do you call me that?”

  “That is what you would be called in my country.”

  She tilted her head consideringly. “Elena. It sounds better when you say it.”

  He chuckled and tucked her hand through his arm, leading her out of the chapel. “When you’ve perfected your accent, it will sound just as well from you.”

  “I haven’t had opportunity to practice, I’m afraid. Perhaps we should begin conducting these meetings in Russian.”

  “Ah, but then I wouldn’t have the opportunity to practice my English.”

  “Your English is impeccable, as I’ve no doubt you’re aware.” Evelyn paused and looked up at him. “How many languages do you speak?”

  “Not nearly as many as you, and probably not as well.”

  “That’s hardly an answer.”

  “Perhaps the next time we meet, I’ll tell you. Now, however, we’ve been here too long.” He released her arm and looked into her face, his smile fading. “You must leave Brussels immediately. It will not be safe for much longer.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You know why, Elena. Herr Hitler will be coming, and you don’t want a repeat of Norway, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you will leave today. Have a safe journey, and remember everything I told you.”

  “I will.”

  Evelyn watched as he turned to stride up the center aisle of the nave towards the doors at the back. His back was straight and he carried himself with the bearing of a military man. As she watched him go, she suddenly felt very alone. With a frown, she turned to walk towards the side door where she had entered an hour before. Before she had reached the door, a question formed in her mind and she stopped, her lips parted on a soft gasp.

  Why did he want her to leave today? What, exactly, did he know about the German plans for a Western offensive?

  She spun around, but the nave was empty. Vladimir had already disappeared.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evelyn lifted the suitcase onto the bed and undid the straps, her lips pressed together thoughtfully. The walk from the church back to her hotel had given her time to think. Perhaps too much time. What did Vladimir know about the pending German invasion? Did he know anything? Or was he just being overly cautious given her experience in Norway? Evelyn shook her head as she flipped open her case. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Vladimir now. While they’d been sitting in the chapel, he had seemed for all the world like a father figure. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she would wonder if he was trying to train her in some way. But that, of course, was absurd. He was a Soviet agent and Soviet agents did not train British agents. And yet, he was definitely trying to help her. But why?

  Evelyn shook her head and turned to get her toiletries from the dressing table. Perhaps she was being too suspicious. The man had been a friend of her fathers, and he wanted to continue working directly with her. It was only natural that he would be concerned with her continued safety. After all, if anything happened to her, he’d made it very clear that he would stop all communication with MI6. Presumably that was something he didn’t want to see happen, just as they didn’t.

  She had gone to the church with no clear idea of what would happen or what would be said between them. She certainly wasn’t expecting to be given pointers on how to do her job successfully. Not that she wasn’t grateful. In fact, Evelyn was beginning to wonder what exactly MI6 had been thinking with their bare bones training program. What Vladimir had said made perfect sense, and yet she had never been warned of the dangers of revisiting prior places of contact by any of her instructors, or by Bill himself. Was that how Eisenjager had found her in Oslo? Was it because she stayed at the same boardinghouse? She could think of no other way that he could’ve found her so quickly.

  Her mind went back to Anna unwillingly. Through her own naivety, Evelyn had endangered both Anna and Peder. If it hadn’t been for her, Peder might still be alive. Evelyn shook her head impatiently. She had to stop thinking this way. Peder’s death was not her responsibility, just as Anna’s choice to accompany her also had not been her responsibility. Evelyn turned to go back to the suitcase on the bed. And if she continued to tell herself often enough, she may even begin to believe it.

  A soft knock fell on the hotel door, startling her. Evelyn frowned and looked towards the door. Now who was it? Had Vladimir sent another message already? It seemed very unlikely, but no one else knew she was here. She crossed the room to the door and opened it curiously. One of the porters from the hotel lobby stood before her holding a sealed white envelope in one of his gloved hands.

  “Good afternoon, mademoiselle,” he said cheerfully. “This was sent over for you by special messenger.”

  He held out the envelope and Evelyn took it with a smile and a murmur of thanks. Closing the door again, she turned the envelope over to find her name scrawled across the face in a very male hand. Frowning, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

  Dear Marie,

  I hope this note finds you well. I wonder if I might meet with you this afternoon? It’s quite urgent that I speak to you. I have new information regarding what we were discussing last night. Perhaps the café around the corner from your hotel at three-thirty?

  Sincerely,

  Jens

  Evelyn raised her eyebrows in surprise. Jens had new information? The only possible thing he could be referring to was the motorized column of German forces that he believed were moving towards the Ardennes. Had he received more information about the troop movements? Even though the French refused to acknowledge that it was possible for the German army to advance through the dense mountain region, Evelyn thought it very significant that there were motorized columns going into the Ardennes. Perhaps Jens could shed some more light on them.

  She pressed her lips together and crossed to the small writing desk near the window, dropping the note onto the surface and glancing at the suitcase on the bed. She had been packing to leave Brussels as Vladimir had urged her. Her business here was finished, and she had absolutely no desire to be caught in the midst of another invasion. She was booked on a train to Paris, leaving at three.

  Evelyn looked at the mother-of-pearl watch clasped around her wrist and went to look out the window. It was almost two now. If she postponed her departure, she could meet Jens at the café and see what it was that was so urgent. She tapped her finger on the window sill thoughtfully, staring down at the busy city street. If she stayed and met with Jens, she just might be able to take more information back to London with her. What if he had definite proof that the Germans were moving troops towards the Maginot? That was news that both the French and the English generals would want to know. Not only that, but Jens worked in the Intelligence division. He may well have other, more crucial, information that she could take back to Bill. The only way she would find out is if she met him at three-thirty and delayed her departure.

  Biting her lip, she turned away from the window and looked at the suitcase uncertainly. The memory of the panicked flight across the mountains of Norway was still very fresh in her memory, as was the lingering cough that remained from her illness. If she stayed, she ran the risk of being caught in another such invasion. Yet, if she left, she may be leaving behind precious intelligence that could help the Allies in the coming battle. And that was, after all, her primary job now. How could she, in good conscience, get on a train to Paris when there was the possibility of gaining additional information from a radio operator for the Belgian intelligence service? What kind of agent would she be if she put herself before the job?

  Evelyn crossed to the bed and removed the toiletries that she had just packed. She couldn’t do it. She would stay, meet with Jens, and catch the morning train back to Paris. A few more hours probably wouldn’t make any difference to her, and they might make all the difference to the information she could take back.
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  9th May, 1940

  Dear Evelyn,

  I hope you’re feeling much better now. While it was lovely to see you, I do wish you’d told me you’d been so ill. I would never have suggested meeting in London for dinner if I’d known. Hopefully it didn’t set your recovery back at all. And now you’re off training again? I hope it’s not too much too soon. At least Cornwall is mild weather this time of year. Perhaps the sea air will do you good.

  Have you been following the news out of London of late? It looks as though Chamberlain’s days are numbered. They’ve been debating the appalling handling of Norway and he is not coming out on the better side of it. Yesterday, Parliament held a vote of no-confidence. He survived it 281 votes to 200, but there was an outstanding number of members within his own party who abstained. I believe he’s lost the confidence of the Conservative Party and, if that’s the case, a change will have to be made. King George will have to appoint someone else. But here’s something interesting that I’ve learned: there’s some question of whether or not it will be Lord Halifax now. My father is of the opinion that the houses won’t unite under him, and if that’s the case, then they’ll look to someone else. It’s nothing definite, you understand, but it will make it an interesting thing to follow. They’re debating again today, and it’s getting very heated. I think Chamberlain will have no choice but to step aside. The only question is when, and who will replace him?

  Rob and I went down to the pub last night with the Yank. The poor man is very confused about how our government is run. He can’t imagine a world where the King appoints a Prime Minister. It must all seem very strange over here to him. You know, I never really considered before now, but it’s a very noble and honorable thing the Yank is doing. He doesn’t have to be over here, fighting in our war, but he is. I wonder if all the Americans are as eager for a fight as a rule? I know they’re determined to stay out of it this time around, but Chris says that if push comes to shove, there are many more like him who will help us. He said that even though their Senate won’t approve aid now, he thinks they will be forced to in the end. Did you know he had to go to Canada to volunteer for the RAF? Interesting story, that is. If you ever meet him, you must ask him to tell you. I think you’ll enjoy it.

  I’d best turn off the light now and get to sleep. We’re off to an early start again in the morning. There are two new pilots that arrived today and Rob and I are taking them up first thing. They seem like good enough chaps. We’ll see how they are in the cockpit.

  Always yours,

  FO Miles Lacey

  RAF Duxford

  Dorchester Hotel, London

  Bill watched as the waiter left the table and then looked across the white linen tablecloth and crystal glasses at Jasper, his face creasing into a frown.

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. He reported the letter missing last night. He believes it was mislaid a few days ago, most likely on Monday.”

  Bill rubbed his forehead and was betrayed into uttering a muttered curse.

  “Precisely.” Jasper pulled a cigarette case from his inside pocket and held it out to him, selecting one for himself when Bill shook his head. “The bloody fool took it home with him and thinks he left it on the bench in the station.”

  “And it had all the names of the new agents on the continent?”

  “Just about. He says it named the four newest and their locations.”

  “And anyone can have that information now.” Bill let out another expletive. “It’s not bad enough that we have a spy here in London that we can’t find, now we have to worry about our own chief intelligence officers?”

  “It would appear so.” Jasper cleared his throat. “We’ll need to warn them, of course. One of them is in your network, and he’ll need to alerted as soon as possible. The last thing we need is to lose the entire network in France that you’ve worked so hard to build, especially now.”

  Bill waved a hand vaguely and reached for his drink. “Yes, yes. I’ll take care of it just as soon as I get back to the office. Of all the rotten luck!”

  “I’m afraid it had more to do with gross negligence rather than luck.” Jasper was quiet for a moment, smoking his cigarette and staring pensively across the restaurant towards the entrance. After puffing thoughtfully, he shifted his gaze to Bill’s face. “Did you see the summary report released by the War Department the other day?”

  Bill snorted. “The one that says that they’ve seen no evidence that an invasion is imminent? Yes. I saw it.”

  “That’s their official stand, you know. There isn’t enough evidence to make them believe that Hitler is going to move against France anytime soon. They do admit that some action is to be expected in the immediate future, of course, but they don’t believe it will come in the form of an invasion of France.”

  “What then? Do they think Hitler is going to be content with Norway and Poland?”

  “I don’t think anyone thinks that Hitler is finished, but given the lack of evidence...”

  “Lack of evidence?” Bill stared at him. “That’s all we’ve given them is evidence! Report after report from agents across Belgium and Holland, all showing troops shifting and moving all over Germany. What more do they want? Why, even His Holiness the Pope is sending intelligence reports from the Vatican to Brussels and The Hague, stating that an invasion is imminent!”

  “The Pope!” Jasper scoffed, waving his hand impatiently. “And where is he getting his intelligence from? A Catholic lawyer from Germany?”

  “Not just any Catholic lawyer. Dr. Joseph Müller. He’s a close associate of General Beck, in Berlin.” Bill leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I have it on very good authority that the information he carried to Rome was sent directly from the General.”

  “Nonsense. Why would one of Hitler’s General’s release information on their offensive plans? It would be suicide.” Jasper stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “It’s clearly a ruse by the Germans to misdirect us with false information. They’re flooding Europe with false rumors and hearsay now just as they did before Norway. That’s why the War Department has dismissed it.”

  “Yes, just as they dismissed the intelligence reports regarding the attack on Norway,” Bill said disgustedly, sitting back in his chair. “If you’ll recall, we received similar reports for weeks leading up to the invasion of Norway, and from the same sources I’ll add, and they turned out to be correct. They weren’t the false information everyone said they were; they were the truth. And Hitler moved sooner rather than later, exactly as the intelligence said he would.”

  Jasper looked at him, his lips tightening at the reminder of the failure to anticipate the invasion that was now causing such division and chaos in Parliament. He was silent for a long moment, then he sighed heavily.

  “It’s doesn’t matter if the intelligence is sound or not,” he finally said. “The War Department has determined it to be without merit, and therefore they stand by the opinion that an invasion of France is not an immediate threat.”

  “Just as Norway wasn’t an immediate threat, not until the Germans already had control of every airfield and major port in Norway.”

  Jasper shook his head, his lips twisting humorously. “You’re in rare form today, aren’t you? You speak your mind; I’ll give you that. But really, Bill, listen to yourself! You’re the only one who thinks this new intelligence is credible. Even the French themselves don’t think an attack is coming soon!”

  “The French are hiding behind the mistaken belief that their Maginot Line is impenetrable. They also think the Germans will follow the same battle plan as in the Great War. I ask you, do you really think Hitler is that stupid?”

  “Perhaps not,” Jasper admitted. “I do agree with you that the French need to be more open to positioning their forces more evenly along the Maginot, but it is their country, after all. They must be allowed to defend it as they see fit.”

  “And when it falls and the German troops are in Calais? What
then?” Bill exhaled and reached for his drink again. “I’m sorry,” he apologized after taking a healthy sip. “I shouldn’t be speaking this way to you. I shouldn’t even be thinking this way. It’s just that if something drastic isn’t done in London, I don’t see how we can win this war.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize to me for being concerned and speaking your mind,” Jasper said with a frown. “If I wanted to surround myself with men who echoed my own thoughts back to me, I’d take a position in Parliament.”

  Bill chuckled reluctantly. “That wouldn’t serve you well at all right now. No one seems to agree on anything there at the moment, with the possible exception that the entire Norwegian campaign has been nothing but a disaster.”

  “And they’re not wrong.” Jasper sat back in his chair and looked at Bill pensively for a moment. “If you could make the War Department listen to you, what would you have them do?”

  “Prepare for an immediate invasion of Holland, Belgium and France,” Bill said without hesitation. “And I’d have the French bulk up troops along the entire Maginot, not just along the Western flank and Belgian border.”

  “You don’t believe the main thrust from the Germans will come through Belgium?” Jasper asked, surprised. “It’s the most logical place to attack. The Maginot was never finished along the border, and it is the weakest point in France’s defense.”

  “I don’t know where Hitler will send the bulk of his troops,” Bill said slowly. “I’m not a military strategist, nor was I ever in the army. All I can tell you is what I would do if I was in their position. My intelligence tells us that the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe are not strong enough, or large enough, to launch a full-scale attack against France and Britain. We outnumber them in both men and artillery. That puts Hitler at a severe disadvantage.”

  “My point exactly!”

  “If I were at such a disadvantage, I would attack somewhere that would not be expected, and do everything I could to divide the opposing forces and try to cut them off from each other. If the best and the most experienced troops were all in one place, I’d attack the weakest troops further away and try to outflank and surround the best troops, cutting them off from supplies and reinforcements. But, of course, I am no General, nor am I a student of battle strategy. I’m simply a man looking at a wealth of intelligence that all points to an invasion attempt on France.”