by CW Browning
“She’s going to the train station,” Otto announced breathlessly. “She told the driver to be quick.”
Renner let out a low curse and turned to stride over to the desk against the wall that held the lobby telephone. He picked up the receiver and dialed quickly, a scowl on his face. The three men behind him looked at each other, then shamelessly moved forward a few steps to listen.
“This is Sturmbannführer Wilhelm Renner. Send Helmut to The Strand immediately. I’ll meet him in the back.”
He hung up and turned to the others.
“Gather everyone except Kurt and bring them to the alley,” he commanded. “Tell Kurt to remain behind in case the Englishwoman comes back. Otto, come with me.”
The other two nodded and immediately split up as Otto joined Renner in striding across the lobby towards the back of the hotel.
“Did you hear anything else?”
“No. Just to go to the train station and to be quick.”
“Did the driver seem surprised?”
Otto thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, actually. He seemed to be expecting it.”
Renner offered no response to that, his lips pressed together in a thin line. His strides were measured and controlled, but he was furious. How did the other woman, this Miss Salvesen, get back into hotel without any of his men seeing? She should never have had the opportunity to call the porter, or to leave at all. If he’d known she’d returned to the room, he would have gone himself to see her. Renner had no doubt that in ten minutes he would have found out where the Richardson woman was. Instead, he had no idea where she was and he’d been forced to watch as their one link to her drove away.
He cursed again and felt Otto stare at him in surprise. Let him look. Somehow that woman had got past all of them, and Renner held each of them responsible. There was no excuse for their incompetence. This simple operation had turned into a debacle, and now he was going to have to explain to Obersturmbannführer Hans Voss how they had allowed her to slip through their fingers.
Renner reached the door to the alley and pushed it open, stepping outside. A stiff, cold wind smacked him in the face and he quickly began buttoning his coat while he looked around the narrow lane.
“Where’s Franz?” he demanded after a second. “Dammit, is everyone incompetent today?!”
“Oh my God!” Otto suddenly exclaimed, running forward. “He’s here!”
Renner followed, his cold gaze falling on the prone figure laying on the ground halfway up the alley. Otto reached him and dropped down beside him, feeling on his neck for a pulse.
“He’s still breathing,” he announced, glancing up at Renner. “Looks like his nose was broken.”
Renner stared down at the man, then raised his gaze to look around the dark alley. The anger intensified.
“I think we now know how Miss Salvesen got into the hotel,” he said, his voice harsh.
“But who did this?” Otto demanded, standing. “A woman couldn’t do this.”
Renner looked down at Franz consideringly. “So you’d think,” he murmured.
“What?”
Headlights illuminated the mouth of the alley as a black car pulled into the narrow lane.
“Nothing.” Renner turned to look back at the door as the others emerged into the alley. “Get Franz into the car. We can’t leave him here. He’ll have to go with you.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the train station,” Renner said shortly, walking towards the car. “I’ll instruct Helmut. Get Franz up. Have one of them help you.”
“What about you? We all won’t fit in the car.”
“I’ll follow in my own,” he said over his shoulder. “Schnell! She already has a five-minute head start!”
Otto started to lift Franz off the ground and one of the others came forward quickly to help him. While they struggled with the dead weight, the others hurried to the car. Renner watched them, then bent down to speak to the driver.
“Go to the train station. You’re looking for a black sedan, number AB-504. Otto can help. He was standing right next to it.”
The man nodded. “And when I find it?”
“Don’t let it out of your sight.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
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Paris, France
Bill looked up as a knock fell on the door. Calling for them to come in, he slid the sheet of paper he was reading smoothing under a folder. He watched as Wesley Fitch, his assistant, entered carrying a tray with a teapot, two teacups, and a stack of correspondence.
“Afternoon,” he said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. “I have good news, sir.”
Bill sat back in his chair and stretched.
“Good. I could use some,” he said. “What is it?”
“Topper made it out of Poland at last and is in Zürich,” Wesley told him, carrying the tray over and setting it down on a side table near the desk. “He should be in London in two days, at the latest.”
“That is good news!” Bill stood up and walked over to where Wesley was pouring tea into the cups. “Any word on whether or not he’s injured?”
“No. The message was only that he made it out and arrived in Zürich this morning.” Wesley turned to hand him a full cup of tea. “I’ve already sent a message to London to let them know.”
“Thank you.” Bill took the cup and turned to go back to his seat. “I’ll need to go back to London. Make the arrangements, will you? The first available flight in the morning, I think.”
“Shall I book for Mrs. Buckley as well?”
Bill sipped his tea before setting the cup and saucer down. “Not this time. I think she’s enjoying being back in France. She won’t want to leave again so soon.”
Wesley nodded and picked up the stack of correspondence, carrying it over to him.
“Here are today’s transmissions and briefings,” he said. “There’s one from Sir Jasper there. You may want to look at that first.”
Bill took the stack and began sorting through it as Wesley went back to pour tea into the other cup. The brief silence in the office was broken by another knock at the door and Bill looked up in surprise.
“Come in!”
The door opened and one of the radio operators rushed in breathlessly.
“Excuse me, sir, but you wanted to know as soon as I received word from Stockholm,” he gasped.
Bill raised his eyebrows sharply and nodded, taking in the operators disheveled appearance. It looked as though he had run all the way from the radio room three floors above.
“Take a minute and catch your breath, Corporal. Another thirty seconds won’t make much difference, now will it?”
Wesley turned with his tea and sipped it, leaning against the side table and watching the radio operator curiously. The air of barely controlled excitement was palpable and he glanced at his boss to find him sitting back in his chair, waiting patiently for the young man to catch his breath.
“Sorry, sir,” the young man said after a moment. “I just wanted to get the news to you as quickly as possible. Horace Manchester sent a message from the embassy.”
He walked over to the desk and handed Bill a sealed communication, then returned to his place a few feet away as Bill opened it and quickly scanned the contents.
RECEIVED MESSAGE FROM JIAN. NEEDS EMERGENCY EVACUATION. ARRANGED PASSAGE ON MERCHANT SHIP SS STORRA LEAVING TONIGHT FOR DENMARK.
Bill exhaled, relief pouring through him.
“Excellent. Thank you, Corporal. Was there anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well. Let me know if anything else comes through.”
Bill watched the radio operator leave the room, closing the door again, and looked at Wesley.
“Manchester’s arranged passage for Jian on a merchant ship leaving Stockholm tonight,” he said. “The SS Storra.
It sails for Denmark. Find out where she docks and when she’ll get in.”
Wesley nodded and set down his cup and saucer, but Bill made a clucking noise and waved his hand.
“Finish your tea,” he said. “Ten minutes won’t make any difference. Who do we have in Copenhagen?”
Wesley thought for a moment. “Isn’t that Pierson, sir?”
Bill frowned. “Is it? Good Lord. Well, he’ll have to do. Once you find out when the ship will arrive, contact him and arrange for him to meet Jian. He’ll have to get her from Copenhagen to...God, where’s the most accessible port for one of our ships to retrieve her?”
Wesley smiled and turned to walk over to a wall map currently displaying Poland.
“Don’t you remember your geography, sir?” he asked over his shoulder with a chuckle. “You really should. You run agents all over Europe.”
“Don’t get cheeky with me,” Bill said without heat, reaching for his cup. “When you reach my age, you’ll realize some trivia isn’t worth holding on to when there are perfectly serviceable maps to be used.”
Wesley chuckled again and began pulling down maps, searching for one of Scandinavia and Denmark. When he found it, he clipped it up and stepped back to study it thoughtfully.
“Well?”
“It looks like it might be Esbjerg, sir,” Wesley said slowly, “but it’s clear across the country from Copenhagen, not to mention quite a bit of water in between.”
Bill got up and carried his cup over to study the map. While he stared at it, Wesley drank his tea, knowing what was coming. He’d worked with William Buckley for over a year now. He knew him well.
“You’d better go find out where the ship will dock,” he finally grunted. “If it’s not Copenhagen, we need to arrange addition transport. And contact the base in Scotland while you’re at it. Make sure there’s no reason for us to get her back sooner.”
Wesley nodded and set his empty cup down, turning towards the door. Once he’d gone, Bill continued studying the map with a frown. Once Evelyn was on the western side of Denmark, he had a few different options to get her home. The most straight-forward would be by ship across the North Sea. If that wasn’t feasible in their unexpected time table, then he could move her down through the Netherlands and Belgium, then across from France. That option would take significantly longer.
With a sigh, he turned away from the map and went back to his desk. It all hinged on where the ship would dock, and whether or not she was on it.
He sank down into his chair and stared at the message on his desk. When this was sent, she was obviously still safe. But he knew how quickly that could change, especially with both German and Soviet agents on her tail. Even with the Norwegian helping, it was still damn tricky. There was no guarantee that Evelyn would make that ship, and every minute she was still in Stockholm was another minute she was in danger.
He hoped to God she’d found a way out of this mess.
Stockholm, Sweden
The more blocks Evelyn put between herself and The Strand Hotel, the more her pounding heart slowed and began to return to normal. The sun was almost gone now and long shadows covered the city as she moved through the crowds, her hands buried in her coat pockets and her head bowed against the frigid wind.
The trembling in her hands and legs had finally eased and she knew that the after-effects of her run-in with the man in the alley were fading. Sifu had tried to warn her of the effects of adrenaline and how it would affect her movements in a hostile setting, but she hadn’t fully understood. After all, she had trained with other students and they had sparred together daily. Wasn’t that the same thing?
Evelyn shook her head and glanced behind her as she turned to cross the road. It wasn’t the same thing at all. She’d had her first taste of it last summer in France, and now she’d had another rush of it. Her Wing Chun master had been right. The adrenaline made her movements sloppy and impaired her thinking. Her breathing had been more labored than it should have been and, when it was all over and she walked away, her legs had almost given away completely. Sifu had tried to prepare her, but now she knew that there was no way anyone could have truly prepared her for the rush of nerves and energy that flooded through her. Only experience could be her teacher now.
It was her rigorous training and repetitive practice of the basics that had saved her in that alley. Her movements had been sloppy, yes, but they had been made on instinct and without thought. She had reverted back to the long hours of training in the balmy gardens of Hong Kong, and that was the only thing that had kept her from making a costly mistake.
Biting her lip, Evelyn reached the other side of the road and turned down a street, following the map she had memorized earlier that day. She had walked away the victor in that battle, but she knew that with each Gestapo agent she touched, her anonymity and safety were compromised. The man in the alley was the second one of their agents that she’d knocked unconscious. The first was last summer, and Herr Untersturmführer Hans Voss was well aware that she’d been the one responsible then. But where that incident could be explained away as a lucky shot, the man in the alley tonight would not be. One women would not be that lucky twice. They would realize she had special training, and that would make her more of a threat to them. Maggie Richardson was about to become a woman whom the SD would stop at nothing to catch.
Evelyn paused under a street light and looked at her watch. Anna should be well on her way to the train station now, and Herr Renner would have discovered his agent in the alley. She had to keep moving. Lifting her head, she strode down the sidewalk until she came to the entrance of a small cafe on the corner. With a last furtive look behind her, she opened the door and went inside.
The warmth and smell of good coffee and simple food enveloped her, welcoming her in from the cold outside, and she breathed deeply, looking around. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since that morning, but there was no time now. Every minute she remained in the city was another minute one, or both, of the enemy agents could find her. Anna was drawing Renner and his men away from her, but she had no idea where her Soviet friend was, or how long Renner would be distracted.
A tall man at one of the tables near the back raised his hand, and Evelyn moved towards him. He was younger than she had expected, unless it wasn’t Horace Manchester who was standing politely as she approached.
“Miss Richardson?” he asked, moving to pull out a chair for her. “I’m Collins, Mr. Manchester’s assistant. He sends his apologies that he couldn’t be here personally. He believes he is being watched, you see. He didn’t want to expose you any further.”
She nodded and seated herself in the offered chair, unbuttoning her coat.
“I understand, and appreciate his caution,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Collins seated himself again and smiled at her, his face open and friendly.
“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat. He pulled out a thick envelope and passed it to her. “Everything you need is inside. We’ve arranged passage for you on a merchant ship leaving for Denmark tonight. It will take you to Copenhagen. From there, it is up to you to find your way back to England.”
Evelyn took the envelope and tucked it into her purse. “Thank you.”
“London has been alerted to the arrangements,” he continued. “The passage is booked under the name of Clare Billadeau, a French national.”
“Did Anna get away?”
“Yes. I saw her not ten minutes ago. She’s on her way to the station.” He glanced at his watch. “You have to leave now if you’re to make the ship. There is a gray sedan outside that will take you to the docks. Your baggage is inside.”
Evelyn nodded and stood, holding her hand out to him.
“Thank you for everything, Mr. Collins,” she said. “Please extend my thanks to Mr. Manchester as well.”
“Of course,” he shook her hand with a smile. “Have a safe journey, Miss Richardson.”
She nodded and turned to leave, trying not to feel as if she was leaving behind the last friendly face she’d see for a while. It had been daunting to sail from Scotland for Norway with no idea what awaited her, but that was nothing compared to the prospect of sailing to Copenhagen with no idea how she would get from there back to England. She didn’t speak Danish, nor did she know if there was even a train that would take her from Copenhagen to the western coast of Denmark.
Before an overwhelming sense of panic could consume her, Evelyn took a deep breath and focused on the next few minutes. She’d get to the car before she worried about anything else, then worry about boarding the ship. Once she was away from Sweden there would be time enough to worry about Denmark. She could only worry about one thing at a time, and had to tackle each moment as it happened. Otherwise, she wouldn’t make it out of here.
She stepped out into the night again and looked around. A gray sedan was parked a few feet away and, as she walked towards it, the driver got out and moved to open the back door.
“Miss Richardson?”
She nodded and got into the car. As the door closed and the driver got behind the wheel again, Collins emerged from the cafe. The car pulled away from the curb as he turned to walk in the opposite direction.
Herr Renner strode across the sidewalk towards the entrance of the train station, his eyes on the two men waiting for him.
“Where are the others?” he demanded, joining them.
“Already inside,” Otto said, turning to walk with him through the wide doors.
“And the woman?”
“Disappeared.”
Renner looked at him sharply, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She came in here, but there’s no sign of her yet. The others split up and are checking the waiting areas.”
Renner scowled and looked around the large lobby of the station. The ticket booth had one person waiting, an older gentleman carrying a briefcase, and the woman at the counter weighed at least three times what the woman who left the hotel did. He looked around slowly, scanning the crowds. It was the height of rush hour as people were catching trains out of the city at the end of the work day, and men and women swarmed around, hurrying to catch their train.