The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  “Once we’ve finished and I’ve stretched my legs, I’ll set up the radio,” Jens said, finishing his cheese and reaching for the bottle. “It won’t take long. I only have to—”

  He broke off suddenly, staring out the passenger window. Evelyn turned to look and stilled, her breath catching in her throat. Several pinpricks of light were slicing through the darkness across the dark field, moving towards them. Without thinking, Evelyn reached out and switched off the interior light, but of course it was too late. They had already been seen. She watched, her heart pounding, as the lights closed the distance between them rapidly, revealing tall shadows behind them. The lights were flashlights, and the shadows were quite clearly five people, all headed straight for the car.

  “I think that might have to wait,” she said slowly, glancing at Jens in the darkness.

  “Do you think it’s the farmer who owns this field?” he asked, peering into the night. Then he sucked in his breath as he caught sight of what Evelyn had already seen. “Good Lord, are those rifles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would the farmer be becoming with rifles?”

  Evelyn took a deep breath and slid her hand towards her clutch purse on the floor by her feet, and the pistol inside. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  “Somehow, I don’t think those are farmers.”

  London - 10pm

  The man crumpled the paper in his gloved hand and shoved it into his overcoat pocket impatiently, turning to stride out of the telephone booth. The message had been left in the back of the telephone book, tucked there by invisible hands shortly before he arrived. It was unusual to get a message like that. It was usually reserved for only the most important and most pressing instructions.

  Henry strode down the street towards Piccadilly, his hands in his coat pocket and his eyes alert in the darkness. The blackout was in full force, as it had been for months. Tonight, however, it seemed darker and more quiet than usual. Germany had invaded Belgium, Holland and Luxembourg, and were undoubtedly heading for France. The city had been injected with a new sense of apprehension as the population waited to see how the BEF would fare against the Wehrmacht in the far-off battlefields of Belgium. It had finally begun. It wouldn’t be long now before the German army moved into France. And then the real battle would begin, for if France fell, Britain would stand alone.

  Henry felt neither triumph nor apprehension as he strode along the pavement. The war on the continent would unfold as Fate allowed and decreed. He was more concerned with his own war right here in London. His handler was getting impatient. He had been buying time now for eight months, but it was running out. They wanted the missing plans that Robert Ainsworth had stolen before his death, and they wanted them now. He had promised that he would find them, but so far he had been unable to do so. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d looked everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. He’d even gone back to the hotel in Bern where Ainsworth died and searched again, even though it had already been searched thoroughly by the Abwehr, MI6 and the Swiss. It was as if Robert Ainsworth had taken them to the grave with him.

  Pausing on the corner of Jermyn Street, he waited for a car to pass before crossing the road quickly. But of course Ainsworth hadn’t taken them to the grave with him. It was quite absurd. He’d hidden them somewhere, and Henry had to find where before his handler took matters into his own hands. If that happened, it would only end up bad for him. MI6 was already suspicious of anyone and everyone, and his security access had been restricted to the point that he had no idea what was happening with the agent known only as Jian, or where she was.

  That was another problem. He’d been buying time by feeding them information about the female spy that they were so anxious to catch. Heaven only knew why. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t caused any real damage to the Third Reich. In fact, she hadn’t done anything more than what several other agents had done, and the Abwehr wasn’t desperate to capture them. Not yet, anyway. What was so special about this one?

  He shook his head and pulled up the collar of his coat as a brisk wind whistled down the street. Spring was here, but the nights still held a chill from the water. Or perhaps it was simply that he was trying to ward off the chill of knowing that he had to pull a miracle out of his hat if he was to find those blasted plans.

  Curse Robert Ainsworth! Where had he stashed the damn things? He had looked everywhere, even Ainsworth Manor. His lips pursed suddenly as a thought entered his head. He had checked Ainsworth Manor, yes, and had found nothing. But he had only searched the Study and the Library. They were the two most likely places, after all. They were Roberts domains when he was alive, so it only seemed natural to assume he would have hidden them there. But what if he had put them somewhere else? What if they were somewhere else in the large, sprawling country estate? The very fact that they hadn’t come to light yet was proof enough that, even though he hadn’t located them, neither had anyone else. Wherever Ainsworth stashed them, they were still safe. Of that Henry had no doubt. Neither did Berlin, or he wouldn’t still be free and alive.

  Piccadilly was bustling with traffic when Henry reached it a moment later, his mood significantly lighter. He would go back to Ainsworth Manor and do a more thorough search. It would be tricky because Madeleine was still in residence, and so was her sister-in-law, Aunt Agatha. But with a bit of planning, and a bit of luck, it could be done. And it would be done.

  He had to find those plans.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Evelyn picked up her purse from the floor of the car and set the brown bag of food down, her eyes never leaving the group of men coming towards them. As she did, the clouds shifted in the sky and the moonlight shone over the field, highlighting the group. Almost unconsciously, Evelyn sighed in relief at the absence of military uniforms.

  “Oh thank God!” Jens breathed beside her. “I thought for one insane minute that the Germans had beaten us here!”

  She glanced at him, her smile mirroring his relief. “So did I!”

  “But why are they carrying guns?”

  “Let’s find out,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Marie!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arm. “You can’t mean to get out!”

  “It’s that, or we stay here like cowards, waiting to see what happens,” she replied briskly, shaking off his hand and opening the door. “I’d rather find out sooner rather than later.”

  She got out of the car and gripped her purse firmly in her left hand. She knew from practice that she could have her gun out and ready to fire in seconds as long as she kept it in that hand, but she really didn’t anticipate needing the weapon. Her body was a weapon in its own right. Sifu had made sure of that. She eyed the group as they stopped a few yards away from the car, staring at her. An uneasy silence fell over them for a tension-filled moment, then Evelyn took a deep breath and pasted a bright smile on her face.

  “Are we trespassing on your field?” she asked, speaking the upper-class Parisian French she knew so well. “We pulled off to eat something. We’ve been driving for thirteen hours, you see, and we were absolutely starving!”

  As soon as she began speaking, a figure pushed between two of the taller ones and strode forward, shaking off the hand of one of the towers she’d shoved out of the way.

  “Mon vieil ami!” A woman’s voice exclaimed and the figure rushed forward with her hands outstretched. “Why it is you! As soon as you began speaking, I knew!”

  Evelyn gasped as the woman grasped her hands and the moonlight slanted across her face.

  “Josephine!” She laughed and gripped the woman’s hands, leaning forward to kiss the air beside her cheek. “But what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?!”

  Josephine Rousseau laughed and threw her arms around her in a warm embrace.

  “Oh that! It’s a long story. But what are you doing here? Of all the strangest places to see you again! But then again, perhaps not.” She turned and looked at the four men gathered be
hind her. “It’s quite all right. This is an old friend of mine, and certainly not a German spy. This is...”

  Josephine stopped abruptly and looked at Evelyn in some confusion. Without missing a beat, Evelyn held out her hand to the closest man to her with a smile.

  “Marie Fournier,” she introduced herself.

  “Marc Altier,” he said gruffly, shaking her hand.

  “This is Luc, Mathieu, and Andre,” Josephine said, indicating each man in turn. “They are friends of mine.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you all,” Evelyn said with a smile. She turned and motioned Jens out of the car. “I’m with my friend. We’ve just come from Brussels.”

  “Brussels!” Josephine gasped. “You were there? How is it? What’s happening?”

  “It’s not good. The Germans are bombing all the bridges and communication towers ahead of the troops, and hitting buildings in the cities in the process. A building was hit up the street from my hotel, and another on the corner near Jens’ apartment building.” Evelyn turned as Jens came around the front of the car. “Jens, this is my dear friend Josephine! Josephine, this is Jens Bernard.”

  Jens nodded and held out his hand, smiling sheepishly. “We’re not destroying your field, are we?” he asked, shaking her hand.

  “Oh it’s not my field,” she said gaily. “We’re just borrowing the farmhouse. I’m sure it’s just fine. Have you really been driving for thirteen hours?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “But Brussels isn’t nearly that far!”

  “No, but most of Brussels was on the road with us,” Evelyn said dryly. “I’ve never seen so many cars, trucks and carts in all my life.”

  “Oh how horrid!” Josephine glanced at Marc. “We’ll be getting a lot of refugees now. That might be good for us.”

  “We’ll see,” he said brusquely.

  Josephine made a face in the darkness and turned back to Evelyn. “You both must be tired. Have you eaten?”

  “We just ate some bread and cheese that we picked up on the road earlier.”

  “Is that all you’ve had? That’s not nearly enough. Come with us. The house isn’t far from here. You can leave the car. It’ll be quite safe there.” Josephine looked at Jens. “You can’t go on driving tonight. You must be exhausted. We have food and plenty of room. Stay here tonight and you can be on your way again in the morning.”

  “We don’t want to impose,” he protested.

  “Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble at all!” Josephine looked at the car. “Do you have any luggage?”

  “Not much. Just one case,” Evelyn said, looking from Josephine to the men behind her. “Are you sure, Josephine? We’ll don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Don’t you start as well,” she exclaimed with a laugh. “Get your bags and come with us. We’ll have you fed and comfortable in no time.”

  Evelyn looked at Jens questioningly and he shrugged. “It’s up to you, Marie,” he said with a grin. “I’m just the chauffer.”

  “Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Evelyn muttered, turning towards the car. “Let’s get some rest and then we’ll do as Josephine said and continue in the morning.”

  She opened the back door and pulled out her suitcase as Jens went around to the other side to pull out his bag and radio.

  “Was the drive very bad?” Josephine asked her as she closed the door and turned back towards her. “Were they bombing the roads?”

  “Not the one we were one, but several Stukas buzzed us repeatedly throughout the afternoon.” Evelyn looped her purse over arm and moved to join Josephine. Before she knew what was happening, the man named Luc had taken her suitcase from her with a nod. “Oh, it’s quite all right,” she protested. “It’s not heavy.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, let him do it,” Josephine said with a laugh. “Luc is very particular about manners and etiquette. He’s from Paris too.

  Luc glanced at her curiously. “Are you from Paris?”

  “Yes.”

  “What part?”

  “The huitième arrondissment.”

  Luc whistled. “Very nice. I am not quite so fortunate. I am from the 10th, near the Hôpital-Saint-Louis.”

  “And I have no idea what any of that means,” Josephine said, looking from one to the other. “Is the 8th district exclusive, then?”

  “Very,” Luc told her.

  She looked at Evelyn and tucked her arm through hers. “Well then, you must invite me for dinner if I’m ever in Paris. Until then, I’ll invite you. My chateau awaits.”

  Evelyn laughed and glanced at Jens as he joined them. “If you’re ever in Paris, I’ll take you out to dinner, and show you all the best places. I’m doing the same for Jens, if we ever get there.”

  “Oh, you’ve never been to Paris?” Josephine asked him.

  “No. This will be my first time.”

  “Have you ever left Belgium?”

  “Once. My family went on holiday to Amsterdam when I was a boy. It was the most perfect place I’ve ever been.”

  “It won’t be perfect for very much longer,” Marc said, glancing back over his shoulder at them as they all trudged towards the hedgerow ahead of them. “Rotterdam is already getting bombed.”

  They sobered at the reminder of the war that was tearing the continent apart. After a long silence, Evelyn slipped her arm through Jens’s and squeezed.

  “Never mind, Jens. You haven’t seen Paris yet. Perhaps it will replace Amsterdam in your esteem.”

  Jens nodded and they fell silent as Evelyn walked, linked on either side by one old friend and one new one. She looked from one to the other and wondered how they had all ended up in this dark field in the north of France. Of all the unlikely pairings, she couldn’t think of stranger one. A radio operator with the Belgian State Security, an MI6 agent posing as a rich secretary, and an intelligence office for the Deuxième Bureau who, for reasons that she hoped to learn, was camped out in a farmhouse with four heavily armed men. On the surface, they should have no reason to be in the same place at the same time. Yet here they were. Evelyn pressed her lips together.

  She just hoped this wasn’t a recipe for disaster.

  Belgium-France Border - 11:30pm

  Eisenjager looked in his rear view mirror as the border crossing faded into the distance behind him. It had taken much longer to reach France than he expected due to the fact that the roads had been clogged with Belgians fleeing the advancing German army. Belgians like his target, Jens Bernard. He shook his head and shifted his gaze back to the road before him. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. The Luftwaffe was bombing with abandon, destroying bridges and dropping bombs in the cities. While he’d been on the road, a pair of dive bombers had swooped down and unloaded the contents of their machine guns into the line of vehicles clogging the road. Eisenjager had been forced to leave the pavement and drive over brush and field to go around several cars that had been hit and were stranded on the road. It had begun, and it would only get worse. As the Wehrmacht moved further into Belgium, the Luftwaffe would be instructed to focus their attention on the roads as well. Anything to prevent the Allied armies from getting through.

  This morning, after speaking to the landlord, Eisenjager had gone to all the petrol stations around Brussels, looking for anyone who might have seen a blue Citroen filling up that morning. It was a filling station just outside the city where he’d finally had some luck and found what he was looking for. The owner remembered the Citroen. It was driven by a young man and he had a young woman in the car with him. That was a surprise to Eisenjager, but not something that would cause any significant difficulty. He would simply have to adjust how he approached Jens now that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t care who the woman was. She was irrelevant. Jens was his target. After talking to the station owner for a few minutes, he left knowing which road Jens had taken, and which direction. He was going to France, along with hundreds of others who had gone past that same station.

  Once the lights of the border
had disappeared behind him, Eisenjager pulled to the side of the road and switched on the interior dome light. He pulled out a road map and opened it, spreading it over the steering wheel while he studied it pensively. Jens would head to Paris, of that he had absolutely no doubt. He would be assured of finding lodging and help in the nation’s capital. He would have despaired of his quarry already having reached the city of lights, but he knew that he would have been stuck in the same slow-moving traffic that Eisenjager had been. He was no doubt already in France, but he wouldn’t be very far ahead.

  Rubbing his eyes, Eisenjager focused on the map, stifling a yawn. If there had been any doubt at all regarding the path Jens had taken, it was dispelled this evening when he stopped at a roadside market stand. They had just been closing up, but he’d managed to get their last bag of apples. While he was talking to the woman, he asked if a blue Citroen had passed by recently. Her tired face had lit up at the question and Eisenjager had his answer. It transpired that she remembered the young man because when he was pulling back onto the road, she noticed that one of his tail lights was broken. She’d thought about waving him down to tell him, but had decided against it in the end. After all, they had enough to worry about right now and she didn’t think a broken light was of any importance when weighed against the invading German army. He was such a nice young man. She hoped he made it somewhere safe quickly. She hoped they all did.

  After deciding on his route, Eisenjager looked at his watch. It was late and he was tired, but he couldn’t stop. He reached into the bag on the passenger’s seat and pulled out an apple, biting into it as he switched off the light. He folded the road map again and put it on the seat next to the apples, then pulled back onto the road. This route would take him into Maubeuge where, if Jens had any sense, he would have stopped for the night. From there, it was a fairly straight drive to Paris. With any luck, he’d catch up with Jens before he reached Paris the following day.