by CW Browning
Josephine smiled and, as she approached, held both her hands out to her.
“Mon vieil amie!” she exclaimed, grasping her hands and leaning forward to kiss the air beside her cheek. “It’s been so long! How are you?”
“It’s been too long!” Evelyn replied, returning the greeting. “It’s so nice to see you again! You look fantastic.”
Josephine laughed and tucked her arm through hers, turning to continue across the bridge towards the gate.
“I couldn’t believe it when William told me you were going to be in Metz,” she said. “I never thought I’d see you again. When we parted company in Strasbourg, I was convinced that you would return to Paris and never be seen again. What changed your mind?”
“You did,” Evelyn said, surprising the other woman.
“Moi?”
“Well, and Karl,” she qualified. “How was I to walk away and go back to my parties and my shopping knowing that people like you were out there doing unbelievably brave things in support of Liberté, Equalité, Fraternité?”
Josephine smiled and glanced at her, her dark eyes squinting in the sunlight.
“I’m glad you continued,” she said. “We’re in desperate need of people like you.”
They reached the end of the bridge and Evelyn looked up at the medieval fortress gate before her.
“Incredible,” she murmured. “Just amazing.”
“Have you never been to Metz?”
“No, I’m ashamed to admit. I can’t think how I never came to explore the city.”
“It’s quite beautiful. It doesn’t have the same feeling as Strasbourg, but it still has plenty of the old world charm.” They walked towards the arched entry to the gate. “I’ve been here for a few months now.”
“Why did you leave Strasbourg?”
Josephine glanced at her. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said after a moment. “If I had stayed, the SS would have discovered my identity.”
“How?”
“Not everyone in Strasbourg is as patriotic as we are,” she said with a twisted smile. “I knew it was getting dangerous for me, but I foolishly didn’t think it was unsafe yet. When one of my contacts from Stuttgart was arrested at the border, I knew it was time to leave. As it turns out, I heard that the police came to my apartment the day after I left. They had two Gestapo agents with them.”
Evelyn’s lips tightened. “It’s beginning already,” she murmured. “They haven’t even invaded yet and they’re already using the French police.”
Josephine shrugged. “There is nothing new in that, as you saw yourself. The Gestapo have been coming and going freely, and it has only intensified since the war began. They’ve increased their presence in the city, and their influence. They are building many supporters. It is their way, no? They convert a few, and then use them as an excuse to march in.”
They passed out from under the arched stone fortress and into a cobbled walkway between the gate and the two tall stone turrets of the castle. Stone arches stretched to their right, and on their left was what remained of the low medieval wall with its curved alcoves. There were a few other people in the walkway joining the two gates, but Josephine ignored them as they strolled towards the other gate. Beyond it, Evelyn could see the street.
“I suppose Bill wants to know if there’s been any activity with the German troops,” Josephine said in a low voice. “Is that why you’re here?”
“Something like that, yes.” Evelyn glanced at her. “We have the reports from the fortifications and the French army, but I don’t think he quite trusts them.”
Josephine let out a sound suspiciously like a snort.
“And he would be right not to,” she muttered. “The forces at the line are being shuffled around and there is talk of the bulk of the Metz forces withdrawing and moving east along the Maginot towards Belgium. If they do that, there was no point in establishing these fortifications at all.”
“Why would they do that?” Evelyn asked, startled. “With the weather turning mild, it can’t be very long before Hitler moves.”
The other woman shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps because the Germans haven’t built up their forces on their side? They haven’t, you know. There’s no real change in the troops positioned along their border.”
They walked under the second gate and emerged onto the street beyond. Evelyn paused and turned to look up at the two towers behind them now.
“I’d have thought they would have been attached to something,” she murmured.
Josephine laughed and glanced up at them. “You would, wouldn’t you? They were at one time, I’m sure.”
“Why is it called Porte des Allemands?”
“They say there was a house of German knights near here in the 1200s. So the gate became known as the German’s Gate.” Josephine smiled wryly. “If they have their way, it will be theirs once again. This region has always gone back and forth between the French and the Germans, throughout history.”
“And now it will begin again.” Evelyn turned and fell into step beside her as they moved away from the gates and down the street. “There hasn’t been any change at all on the German side of the border? Are you sure?”
“As sure as we can be without going over ourselves and looking. We receive news from people all along the border and there haven’t been any indications of increased troop movements yet.”
“What are they waiting for?” Evelyn wondered, her brows creased in a frown.
Josephine glanced at her. “They may not be waiting for anything,” she said slowly. “I said there have been no troop movements along the borders with France.”
Something in her tone made Evelyn look at her sharply.
“Meaning?”
“There has been significant movement in other parts of Germany.” Josephine paused to look in the window of a hat shop. “They’re moving large amounts of troops and supplies north.”
“North!”
She nodded. “Yes. Several divisions in the past few days alone.”
“But the only thing north of Germany is...” Evelyn’s voice trailed off and Josephine nodded.
“Precisely.”
Evelyn exhaled. So Hitler was going for Sweden or Norway next.
“He will eventually turn his attention to France, but right now Hitler seems more preoccupied with Scandinavia,” Josephine continued. “It won’t last long, but it seems that our borders are safe. For now.”
Evelyn nodded. “For now. But as you say, it can’t last long.”
“The North?” Bill stared across the desk at Evelyn, his brows pulled together in consternation. “Is she sure?”
“That’s what I said,” she replied with a short laugh. “She’s sure. The Germans have been shifting whole divisions and supplies to the north of Germany.”
She paused and opened her purse to pull out a slender tube much like a lipstick. She twisted the top off and tipped it upside down. An oblong roll of paper slid out and she stood up to pass it to Bill.
“She sent these. They’re detailed lists of trains and mobile convoys carrying supplies north.”
Bill raised his eyebrows and unrolled the papers, glancing through them.
“Where did she get these?”
“She didn’t say. Only that they came from a verified source in Germany.” Evelyn sat down again and crossed her legs. “She said they were to go to her own government, but she thought they would be of more use if they came to you instead. I’m afraid she doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of her own people at the moment.”
Bill grunted and set the sheets down on his desk.
“I’m not sure that I blame her,” he said. “Deuxième Bureau has been consistently ignoring certain information, while accepting less than reliable intelligence as fact. However, at least they are trying. The Netherlands are a disaster in that department. Unf
ortunately, much of the information the Deuxième passes on to the generals is discarded.”
“That’s what Josephine said as well.” Evelyn frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would they ignore information from their own intelligence service?”
Bill sighed and sat back.
“It’s very difficult right now. They have leaders who are set in their ways and determined to fight this war the way wars have always been fought. They don’t acknowledge that perhaps the enemy has changed and evolved. There is significant in-fighting going on at all levels in Paris. Many are calling for Daladier to step aside. They’re disgusted with his handling of Finland, and have lost confidence in his leadership.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “It’s frustrating, but hardly surprising. This, however, will interest Montclair greatly.” He indicated to the papers on the desk. “He’s convinced the Germans will go after Norway. He’s been pressuring for us to move first, but while Chamberlain and the House agree that Norway should be a priority, they have yet to actually do anything. Churchill has been ranting about mining the Norwegian waters for weeks, but again, nothing has been done.”
“If Hitler attacks Norway, what about Sweden?”
“Sweden will remain neutral for as long as possible. They want no part of this war.”
“Neither did Finland, but look at them now. They’ll surrender any day now. They have to.” Evelyn frowned. “Can the Norwegian army withstand a German offensive?”
“Not without us to help them,” he said bluntly. “They would be out-manned and far out-gunned. They haven’t made any attempt to rearm or build up their forces. Their army is strictly a defensive force, and not a very large one. Hitler knows that.”
They were silent for a moment and then Evelyn looked up.
“Could it be a diversion?” she asked. “Could they be moving forces north to make us think they won’t invade the lowlands?”
Bill smiled faintly. “Yes.”
“But you don’t think they are?”
“Who’s to say?” He shrugged and sat forward again. “That’s for London to decide. We did our job. What they do with the information is up to them. How did you find Josephine? Is she well?”
“Yes, she appears to be. We had lunch in a café before I left.”
Bill’s eyes met hers. “And did she arrange to stay in contact?”
Evelyn smiled. “Yes. Just as you predicted. How did you know?”
“The French aren’t stupid. They know that if Germany invades and the battle is lost, they will lose their intelligence network. Agents like Josephine will want to ensure that they have another way of getting information out.”
“I gave her the drop address in Paris, just as you said. If she needs to contact me, she’ll arrange for a message to go to that address.”
“Good.” Bill looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. Your mother will be wondering where you are.”
Evelyn laughed and stood up, accepting her dismissal with good grace.
“I doubt that. She and my aunts have gone to the theatre. I’m meeting Nicolas and Gisele for dinner, though, so I have to be on my way.” She turned towards the door, then paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Am I still returning to England on Friday?”
“Yes. Enjoy the rest of your time in Paris. I know you love it here.”
Evelyn smiled. “I do, and I will.”
She left the office and made her way through the embassy to the entrance. Her smile faded as she stepped out onto the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré and turned to walk along the busy thoroughfare. The tension was palpable in the embassy and with Bill. They knew Hitler would move, and move soon. When he did, his Blitzkrieg, or Lightning War, would sweep across Europe. Paris would become dangerous, and Nicolas and Gisele would have to decide what they were going to do, as would her Aunt and Uncle.
Evelyn pressed her lips together as a chill went through her. She had a terrible feeling that, very soon, everything was going to change drastically, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to enjoy her last few days in Paris with her family. She may not have the opportunity again for a very long time.
And when it was all over, the Paris she loved may be irreversibly changed, or gone forever.
Chapter Six
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Liège, Belgium
Obersturmbannführer Hans Voss squinted against the sun and peered up at the cathedral before him. Of all the places in the city that he could meet with his informant, they had to pick a church. He hated the places and avoided them whenever possible. They filled him with a kind of dread, a throwback to his youth when his father would drag him by his ear every Sunday to listen to an old man expound upon the hopelessness and evils of humanity. That same old man was later caught raping a four-year-old girl in the woods. As far as Hans was concerned, the clergy could keep their hypocrisy. He would take his chances with the afterlife after living this life as he saw fit. And that did not include attending services on Sunday.
He started up the steps to the entrance of the sprawling example of Gothic architecture. He had come to the city on other business, intending only to stay for two days. Upon hearing of his arrival, however, Mira had contacted him to arrange this meeting. He agreed when he saw the last word in her message: Rätsel.
The mysterious Englishwoman had got under his skin. He freely admitted that. Twenty minutes in her company had been enough to convince him that she was intriguing. The subsequent weeks and months that followed had proven that she was also dangerous. The Maggie Richardson he met in Strasbourg had passed all the background checks that the SS had issued, except one. The woman he spoke with outside a café in Strasbourg claimed to have family in Berlin. The Margaret Richardson employed by the Daily Mail had no relations in Germany at all.
It was a small thing, overlooked by the British Security Service, but it was enough to convince them that she was a British agent. When Karl Gerst, the German traitor she’d been meeting with that day, disappeared less than twenty-four hours after crossing back into Germany, it only strengthened their suspicions. While they had been busy confirming the Englishwoman’s story, Karl managed to slip away and, to date, still hadn’t been found. They had been played by a pretty, young blonde.
Hans Voss did not take kindly to that at all.
He strode into the church, the sun disappearing as the heavy door swung closed. The dim gloom of the sanctuary engulfed him as he scanned the rows of empty pews stretching all the way to the nave at the back. The only sources of light came from the candles burning near the alter and the stained-glass windows high in the walls. The rest of the cavernous space was thrown into shadows, and it was within those shadows that he finally located Mira.
She was seated at the end of a pew next to a large stone pillar about halfway down the main aisle. A small functional hat covered dark hair, and she had her head bent as if she were in prayer.
Hans stripped his gloves off as he strode forward and down the center aisle. When he reached her pew, he continued to the next one before moving into the row seating himself in front of her. As he did so, he heard her shift and then her head appeared near his shoulder as she settled on the kneeler behind him.
“Guten Morgen, Frau Lutz,” he murmured.
“Guten Morgen, Herr Schmidt,” she replied. “How are you finding Liège?”
“Very busy,” he said pointedly. “You have something for me?”
“Yes. As you requested, I’ve been remaining in close contact with our associates in Paris,” she said, abandoning small talk. “I took the liberty of advising them to monitor the airports and train depots in the region.”
“And?”
“Rätsel arrived at Orly on a British Overseas Airways flight two days ago.”
Hans turned his head, glancing at her face sharply. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Our man there was certain. He described her perfectly.” Mira kept her face t
owards the alter, not looking at him. “She arrived alone and went straight to a waiting car.”
“Did she have anything with her?”
“A single suitcase and her purse.”
“And where did she go?”
There was the faintest of hesitations and his eyes narrowed.
“Marcus lost her after they entered Paris.”
Hans’ lips tightened and he turned his head back to stare forward.
“He’s watching the airport and alerted the men at the train stations. If she leaves Paris, they’ll know.”
“I’m not concerned with where she goes when she leaves Paris,” he snapped. “I want to know who she sees while she’s there.”
Mira was silent and, after a moment, Hans sighed imperceptibly.
“Tell him to watch the embassy and passport control offices,” he finally said. “If she’s in Paris for any length of time, she will go to one of them. The SIS keeps their agents there. We can pick her up again when she checks in.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then we have to wait for another opportunity.” He began to pull on his gloves. “Tell Marcus not to lose her next time.”
“If she does resurface, what then?”
“I want to know who she sees, where she’s staying, and what she does. I want to know all of it. But under absolutely no circumstances is she to be approached! Contact me directly if we regain contact.”
“Yes, Herr Schmidt.”
He nodded and stood, moving out of the pew. He walked back down the aisle without a backwards glance. Mira would relay his message and if Rätsel reappeared, he had no doubt that he would know of it within a few hours.
As he emerged back into the sunshine and went down the steps of the church, Hans felt a familiar feeling of elation. The hunt was on again.
And this time he would not fail.
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RAF Northolt
March 25, 1940
Evelyn hunched her shoulders against a brisk, stiff wind and put her head down to make her way across the road to her office building. She’d returned to London three days ago, but had ended up staying and going through a rather rigorous training refresher on code recognition. As a result, she’d just arrived back at Northolt this afternoon. She was tired, cranky, and wanted nothing more than her bed.