by CW Browning
“If you have family in Marle, then I’d advise that over Vervins,” she said. “Not that it’s any of my business, but I know I’d be more comfortable with family nearby.”
“Are your family in Paris?” Luc asked her.
Evelyn thought of Tante Adelle, Uncle Claude and Gisele and Nicolas. Their house in Paris was like a second home to her, but she hoped to God that they weren’t there now. They had planned to leave and go to their country residence in the south if the Germans did attack France. God-willing they had followed through with that plan.
“No. They are in the south, near Toulouse.”
“Then they’re well out of it,” Josephine said with a nod. “Perhaps you should consider going there instead of Paris. I know it’s your home, but it’s better to be safe.”
“If the Germans make it to Paris, even the south won’t be safe,” Marc said bluntly. “If they enter Paris, it is because France is already lost.”
The statement was a sobering one, and Evelyn felt a heavy weight settle in her gut. He was right. If the Nazi war machine made it all the way to Paris, France would be in Hitler’s hands. The thought was a black one. Most of Europe would be under Nazi control, and the only country left standing would be her own.
And what could her tiny island hope to do against the full might of an unstoppable foe all alone?
Ainsworth Manor, England
There was a moon out, occasionally obscured by fast moving clouds, illuminating the gray flagged stones of the terrace that stretched behind the drawing room. Henry went through the opening of the low surrounding wall and paused to glance back over the dark south lawn. He would have wished for a moonless night if he had the choice, but he had to play the cards that he had been dealt. At least the bright light from the moon made the electric torch he carried in his coat pocket unnecessary. He could see quite well without it, not that he would have needed it to find the drawing room door. He’d been here enough over the years to know it well. Of course, that had been when Robert was alive. Things were different then.
He supposed things were different for everyone now, he reflected as he crossed the patio to the door. War had a tendency of changing everything, and of putting everything into sharp focus, fine-tuning priorities, and making the parties and gatherings they had all enjoyed a thing of the past. Most of the men and women in his generation were now serving their country in the RAF or the WAAFs. Then there was the navy and the army. Now they were even going off to become Land girls, something he thought was the height of ridiculousness. He’d heard that Lady Morganston’s daughter had gone to work on the farms. Preposterous. This war was making a mockery of the class system in all its glory, and Henry thought it would only lead to trouble in the end. A peer of the realm had no business digging in the dirt with the commoners. It just wasn’t done. Nor was it necessary. There were plenty of the lower classes who could do the manual labor needed.
He supposed it was the fault of the patriotism sweeping the nation. As soon they declared war in September, everyone wanted to do their bit. Even Evelyn Ainsworth had joined the WAAFs. Utter nonsense. She should be home with her mother, especially after Robert’s death.
Henry pulled a long metal tool from the inside pocket of his coat and slid the end between the door and the jam. A second later the door gave way and he pulled it open silently. With one final look around, he slipped into the house.
Madeleine and Agatha would be fast asleep, and with any luck they would remain that way. He wasn’t worried about the ladies of the house. He was more concerned with that butler. He’d nearly caught him last time when Henry had come and searched the Study and the Library. A light sleeper, that one was, and he was the one who could undo everything. If he saw Henry, he would recognize him instantly, and that would be curtains for his career and his freedom.
Henry left the drawing room door ajar and was just turning away to begin searching the room when movement caught his attention. He turned his head and felt his heart quicken at the sight of a tall man moving across the lawn near the terrace. A gardener, by the looks of it, but what kind of gardener was wandering abroad at this time of night?
He moved away from the door, watching as the man paused suddenly next to the terrace and looked at the house. Damn and blast! He’d seen the door!
Henry turned and moved swiftly across the drawing room to the door leading to the corridor. He was just slipping silently out of the room when he heard heavy footsteps running across the terrace. The man was coming to investigate, as any good servant would. Double damn and blast!
He knew there was a coat closet not five feet from the drawing room door. He’d watched the footmen get his coat from it any number of times, and now it was his only hope. Henry moved along the dark corridor, his eyes adjusting to the inky blackness, until he reached the door. He wrenched it open and slipped inside quickly, pulling the door closed behind him. A second later, the drawing room door was thrown open and he heard footsteps in the corridor. They were coming towards the closet.
Henry held his breath and stood perfectly still inside the door, his hand on the handle. Once the man passed the closet, he would crack it and take a look. Not seeing what was happening was worse than listening to the footsteps just outside the door. They didn’t pause or miss a stride as they passed the closet, and Henry exhaled in relief.
Cracking the door silently, he peered out into the darkness, watching as a circle of yellow light danced along the corridor. The gardener had a torch, which was unfortunate because it meant that Henry couldn’t sneak away in the shadows. Instead, he would have to wait until the man had crossed the great hall and gone towards the Study on the other side. An irritating delay, but it couldn’t be helped. Henry watched as the man reached the hall and shone his light around the vast emptiness. Suddenly he turned to his left, almost as if he’d heard a noise there, and raised the torch higher to illuminate the area. The light from the flashlight extended to light up his face and Henry sucked in his breath sharply. He knew that face. That was no gardener. That man worked for MI6!
He watched, stunned, as the man finally turned to cross the large hall, moving out of sight towards the Study. What the hell was a man from MI6 doing at Ainsworth Manor? As soon as the question formed, Henry knew the answer. Of course! Somehow, somewhere, they had learned of the documents Robert Ainsworth had concealed before his death. He had worked for them, after all. Somehow they must have realized that there were documents missing, and they must have come to the same conclusion he had: that they had to be here in this house.
Henry moved out of the closet, closing the door again quietly and going swiftly back towards the drawing room. Well that tore it. He couldn’t search the house now, not with a man from the Secret Service lurking about. He’d have to leave it for now. It was a high enough risk having the butler see him, but to have a member of the intelligence community see him would be suicidal. This was no time to be bold. It was time to leave, and quickly.
As he crossed the drawing room at a near run, Henry marveled at the sudden turn of events. So MI6 was aware of the package. Interesting. And they were watching the house? Even more interesting. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they had the package already and were baiting a trap for whoever came looking for it. But he did know better, and there was no possibility of a man of Bill Buckley’s limited intelligence thinking so offensively. It would never occur to him to set a trap. If he had a man installed in Ainsworth Manor, it could be for only one reason.
They didn’t have the documents either.
That it was Bill who had installed the man in the household was never a question in his mind. He recognized him as one of Bills earlier recruits. The man had been with the Secret Service for some years now, and he was especially good at undercover work. It was no wonder Bill would have sent him. He would impersonate a servant to perfection, and would report back if anything remotely matching the description of a mysterious package was ever found. He would also report back if anyone came look
ing for the package...anyone like himself. But that was as far as it would go. He would report back, and Bill would tell him to hold his position. He was too cautious, old Bill. Always had been.
So were all the chief officers in the Secret Service. They were a bunch of old women, following outdated principles and turning a blind eye to progress and innovation. They were a good part of the reason that England would lose this war. Of that, Henry was confident.
He slipped back out the drawing room door onto the terrace, being sure to leave the door exactly as the MI6 man had left it. If he came back this way, Henry didn’t want him to know that his quarry had ever gone through the door again. Perhaps he would think the door had been left open by someone in the house. If he did, that would be best. But Henry was a prosaic man and wasn’t holding out hope. If he could get away without the man seeing him, he would call that a win. After all, if he didn’t have a description to give Bill, there was nothing that could be done.
A moment later, he was running across the lawn towards the trees, leaving Ainsworth Manor behind. His mission had been a bust as far as the search, but he’d learned something even more important. And it just might be enough to keep his handler quiet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Evelyn stepped outside and took a deep breath. The air was damp and chilly, and she would rather go back to the roaring fire, but the lone figure sitting on the fence staring into the trees made her button her coat and start across the small garden behind the kitchen. As she drew closer, Jens turned his head and watched her.
“I thought you were going for a walk?” she asked, joining him.
“I was going to, but all I really wanted was some fresh air, so I decided to sit here instead.”
“It was getting rather stuffy in there, wasn’t it?” Evelyn leaned against the fence and looked out into the trees. “Are you all right?”
“Yes of course. I just wanted to think.”
“About the predicament we find ourselves in?”
“About everything. Don’t you feel...overwhelmed by it all?” He turned to look down at her. “I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare. The more we run, the closer they get.”
“It is disconcerting how quickly they’re moving,” she admitted. “It makes it difficult to know what to do next.”
Jens let out a short laugh. “You make it sound so ordinary, as if you’re discussing a mild inconvenience.”
A teasing grin came to her lips. “Well, it is an inconvenience! I would have been comfortably back in Paris by now if Hitler hadn’t decided to walk into Belgium.”
“I suppose when you put it that way...”
“Well how else will I put it? I’m certainly not going to pitch a fit because my travel plans have been extended and expanded to include some unscheduled stops, not when hundreds of people are losing their homes and lives as we speak.”
Jens sighed. “I suppose I deserved that,” he murmured. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be bemoaning our predicament, but should be thankful that it’s not much worse.”
They were quiet for a moment, listening to the night, then Evelyn glanced up at him,
“Why are you so interested in Marle?” she asked.
Jens looked at her, startled. “Pardon?”
“Marle. Why are you so interested in it?”
“I’m not! I told you. I knew someone who lived there once, that’s all.” Jens looked flustered and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It’s nothing.”
“I don’t believe that. I think it’s something, and I think it’s something that’s been there in the background ever since we left Brussels.”
“What—what do you mean?” he stammered.
“Why are you here, Jens?” she answered with her own blunt question, turning sideways to face him. “Really?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“It’s no use playing the fool, Jens. I know something is going on. You didn’t insist on driving me all the way to Paris just because you were concerned for my safety.” She held up a hand, stopping him when he would have protested. “Oh, I’m sure you were worried about me in the fleeting kind of way that one is concerned for people one just met whose company they enjoyed, but I don’t think that’s why you came to find me yesterday morning. I think there was something more, another reason. Look me in my eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”
His gaze wavered and he looked away from her face. Evelyn nodded.
“As I thought. Very well then. Shall I tell you what I’ve been thinking for the past two days?” Taking his silence as an affirmative, she continued. “At first I thought you were simply fleeing the Nazis along with everyone else. Perfectly understandable, of course. I wanted nothing more than to get out of their way as well. But we hadn’t been the car for more than two hours when I realized something.”
“What’s that?” he finally spoke, returning his eyes to her face.
“That you were perfectly calm and collected. You weren’t panicking at all!”
“Neither were you,” he pointed out. “You didn’t shed a tear, or cry out at the airplanes overhead, or even wring your hands in worry!”
Evelyn grinned. “Wring my hands?” she repeated. “Whatever for? What good would that do?”
“Well, none, I suppose. But that’s what all the other females of my acquaintance would have done.”
“Yes, I suppose most of mine as well,” she agreed thoughtfully. “I never did have much patience for that sort of thing. All it does is waste an awful lot of energy, and only serves to thoroughly irritate everyone around you!”
“Agreed. So then why are you so suspicious about my remaining calm in the face of an invasion?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Because no one else was. Even the men on the road were honking and trying to go around other cars. They were clearly anxious and panicked at the thought of the Nazis advancing faster than they could run.”
“And I didn’t do that.”
“No. You almost seemed like you knew exactly where you going, and how, and why. And you were just getting on with it.” Evelyn caught the startled look that flashed across his face and smiled faintly. “Why, you even took the time to stop for refreshment along the way.”
“So did many others,” he pointed out. “I wasn’t the only one who stopped at that market stand.”
“No, but you were the only one who was calmly making very sensible selections,” she replied calmly. “I was watching you. All the others were grabbing whatever they could, but you even took the time to talk to the woman helping you.”
His face flushed and he lowered his gaze. “I was trying to be reassuring,” he muttered. “She had to have been frightened.”
“That’s very sweet,” Evelyn said after a moment. “But the question remains, why are you really here? I would have found my way to France. And why did you light up like a lantern at the mention of Marle?”
He was silent for a long time, staring at the ground beneath her feet. When he finally raised his face and looked at her, she could tell that he’d abandoned the pretense. He was going to tell her the truth.
“I did have an ulterior motive,” he admitted. “I was concerned for you, of course, and it was just good luck that you were from Paris. I did go to the hotel to check to make sure were safe, but I also saw a way that I could get to Paris with a guide, instead of going on my own.”
“Why were you going to Paris?”
“Why is your friend entrenched in a farmhouse near the border with five men and a wireless radio?” he countered.
“Because it’s much safer than being entrenched in a farmhouse near the border alone,” a new voice answered.
They swung around to see Josephine walking out of the trees, and Evelyn hid a smile. Her old friend was still full of surprises.
“But why are you hear at all?” Jens asked, not seeming to be the least disconcerted by the fact that she had clearly been listening to his conversation.
“We all work for the Deuxième Bureau,”
she told him frankly, surprising Evelyn with her honesty. “We’re military intelligence.”
“Ah. I really should have guessed as much,” he said with a nod. “I thought perhaps you were working alone, like a resistance.”
“Soon we may be, if Hitler has his way,” she said, leaning on the other side of the fence next to Evelyn. “But for now, we have the full support of the French army and government. Well, most of it anyway.”
Jens looked from one to the other, then exhaled. His body relaxed, almost as if he had made a decision that lifted a weight off of him.
“You know that I work for the Belgian State Security. I’m a radio operator and intercept messages going between the German units. We’ve been able to decode about twenty percent of them, which is amazing considering that just a few months ago, we couldn’t read any of them.” He cleared his throat. “A few months ago, I was approached by someone who claimed he was an Allied agent. He said he worked for your group, the Deuxième Bureau, and asked me to pass along any information I came across that I thought the Allies would find useful.”
“And you said yes?” Evelyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not at first. I looked up all the information he gave me, and then began doing some research of my own. I had access to information that most don’t, you understand, and after a couple of weeks I determined that he really was who he said he was. So I contacted him and agreed.”
“You passed on classified information?” Josephine demanded. “To us?”
He nodded. “I don’t agree with my country’s stand in this war, and I never have. I think that we have an obligation to stop the spread of this new National Socialist Party, or whatever they call themselves now. I know what they do. I had friends in Czechoslovakia, good men, who lost everything when the Nazis moved in. To remain neutral is to condone what they are doing, making us just as liable for the damage they inflict.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I was only able to pass on a few pieces here and there, you understand. Security is very tight, and I didn’t want to arouse suspicion. But I was sending along some good information, I think, even though it wasn’t a lot. In the past week, however, I’ve been able to gather a large amount information, much more than I’ve ever managed before. I was going to send it along via the courier I’ve been using, but then the Germans invaded.”