The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  “There is, but it leaves in an hour. I hope everything is all right?”

  “Oh yes,” she said breezily with a bright smile. “Everything is quite all right. I had an idea that I might try to make it there tonight, but I’ll wait until tomorrow. I don’t relish the thought of rushing to catch a train before I’ve even had my dinner.”

  He smiled. “Of course not. If you don’t mind waiting a moment, I’ll look to see the times of the morning trains.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Evelyn watched him move away to consult the train schedule, then glanced over her shoulder. The man in the brown coat hadn’t entered the hotel, but she knew he was outside in the street. There was no sign of the SS agent who had been sitting in the chair earlier, and the only occupants of the lobby at this hour were a middle-aged couple in evening dress moving across the lobby towards the front doors, and two porters. For now, she was perfectly safe.

  “The first train to Brussels leaves at quarter past eight.” The manager was back, a smile on his face. “There is another at ten.”

  “I think the eight-fifteen would be ideal,” Evelyn said, turning her attention back to him. “Would you be kind enough to book a first class compartment in my name?”

  “Of course, Mademoiselle.”

  “Thank you.” She picked up her purse from where she had set it on the wooden counter and smiled. “I’ll settle my bill now, to save time in the morning.”

  “Yes, of course.” He turned to pull her registration card. “I’m sorry your stay will be so short. I hope you’ll return to visit us.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  A few minutes later Evelyn was walking towards the elevator. As she waited for the attendant to open the gate, she looked behind her once more. There was still no sign of the man in the brown suit.

  “The fourth floor, please,” Evelyn told the attendant, stepping into the elevator. “Thank you.”

  As the cage rose slowly, she looked at her watch. She had less than an hour to get to the station and get onto the train without her new friend outside seeing. Thankfully, she had never unpacked her case, and the only thing she had removed was her hairbrush. She would be able to change and get out of the hotel quickly, and without fuss.

  The elevator rumbled to a stop and the attendant opened the doors, and then the gate. Evelyn smiled and stepped out, turning to make her way to her room. She would take the stairs down, she decided, pulling her room key out of her purse. And she would time it when the elevator was already down, so as to avoid any possibility of the attendant seeing her go. Her lips trembled as she unlocked her door. The old man would have a seizure if he caught a glimpse of her, for Evelyn had no intention of leaving her room again as herself. The only way she was getting out of the hotel and to the station without any problems was to be someone else.

  And that was exactly what she was going to do.

  The man stepped out of the hotel and settled his hat on his head, pulling the brim low over his forehead once again. The woman’s name was Marie Fournier, and she’d just checked in that afternoon. The porter he’d spoken to first hadn’t been able to tell him much, but when a bill had found its way into the young man’s hand, he’d suddenly remembered quite a bit. She was staying on the fourth floor and had carried her own bag up to the room when she arrived. After a few more questions, the man had also learned that the manager had just arranged for a first class compartment for Mademoiselle Fournier on the first train to Brussels in the morning. It was amazing what porters knew, really. No one paid them any attention, yet they were absolute gold mines of information if one were willing to offer the right incentive.

  He turned to walk slowly along the pavement. After waiting across the street for fifteen minutes, he’d finally decided that the woman wasn’t leaving the hotel again and went in to question the porter. The wait had also ensured that there was no possibility of running into her in the lobby. He was convinced that she hadn’t seen him while he followed her from the train station. There was certainly no reason to suppose that she had, but the man tended to be cautious about things like that. While there had been no sign of her panicking or realizing that he was there, it didn’t necessarily follow that she was unaware of his presence. If she was a seasoned courier, she would know to look over her shoulder, and she would have learned to not give herself away. It was much better to be safe, and take every care not to be seen in the lobby of her hotel. Or outside it, for that matter.

  He tucked his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the corner. The Dutch agent had been carrying the packet from Germany. They had known as soon as he crossed into Belgium, and he had been followed ever since. The man really hadn’t expected the Dutchman to pass off the package quite so quickly. He’d only just arrived that morning, after all. But there had been no mistaking the exchange at the train station. What was really surprising was that the Dutch agent seemed to have no idea that he was being watched. If he had, he never would have passed the packet to the woman.

  The man felt a sense of self-satisfaction. His orders had been to stay with the Dutch agent, but as soon as the packet changed hands, he knew he had to stay with the woman. Now he was in a position to get the package back, and be commended and lauded in the process. The Germans had made it very clear that they wanted the information back, and they were willing to pay handsomely to get it. Not only that, but once he had the packet in his possession, he would be able to demand anything he liked. He would have all the bargaining power, and the Nazis would have to give him what he wanted or risk losing the package again. He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully while he debated how much he could get for the information. Perhaps enough to move out of the city and into the country.

  But first, he had to get the package away from the woman, and to do that, he had to watch the hotel to make sure she didn’t leave again. He would go to the corner and wait, watching the door until was late. Then he would break into her room and take the package while she was sleeping. It would be quick and easy. He’d done it enough times. She would’t know he was even there. They never did.

  The man reached the corner, preoccupied with his plans, and never saw the figure moving up the side street. As he stepped away from the corner of the building, an aging woman in a shapeless work dress bumped into him, hard. He stumbled sideways, turning to gape in astonishment. She glared up at him, a fierce scowl on her lined face. A worn scarf was wrapped around her neck while a tattered hat draped over her head, casting her face into shadows. She carried an immense carpet bag in one hand while the other pulled a chest strapped onto wheels. It looked like an artist’s chest, the kind that they hauled their paints around in, but he very much doubted she was a painter. She looked more like a washwoman.

  “Pardon,” he murmured, turning away.

  The woman huffed and pulled her chest around him. With one final glare, she crossed the street, muttering something indiscernible under her breath. He watched her go with a shake of his head before taking up position against the streetlamp on the corner. He turned his attention back to the front door of the hotel, smiling in satisfaction at the clear view. No one could enter or leave with him seeing.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, bending his head to light it. By morning, he would have the package and be well on his way to a better life. He just had to be patient and wait.

  Evelyn adjusted the hat on her head and studied herself in the small washroom mirror critically. The makeup that had made her face appear lined and haggard had been washed away, leaving her skin smooth and clear again. Thick wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and her hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. The shapeless dress she had worn out of the hotel had been exchanged for a high-necked sweater, matching jacket and modest woolen skirt. Tilting her head, she decided she looked every inch the respectable secretary who was about to board the last train to Brussels, hurrying back to her job after a short few days of holiday.

  Turning away f
rom the wash basin, she tossed the tattered old hat and scarf she had worn to the station into the trash can by the door. She pulled her purse out of the old carpet bag before throwing the bag into the trash as well. It had been pure luck that she’d come across the bag and chest on her way out of the hotel. She had snuck out the back entrance into an alleyway and there they were, discarded with other pieces of forgotten trash. Perfect, really. They had enabled her to conceal her suitcase and purse from the man in the street. He’d never even suspected that the strange-looking older woman who plowed into him so unceremoniously was, in fact, the person he’d been following.

  A grin pulled at Evelyn’s lips as she squatted down to unlatch the ancient chest and pull out her suitcase. She’d left him leaning against a street light, staring at the entrance to the hotel. He had no idea that she was already gone.

  The grin faded just as quickly as it had come, and she lifted her case out of the chest. Now she had to get onto the train without anyone else recognizing her. She’d made it to the bathroom inside the station without incident, but she didn’t want to risk others in the station recognizing her. She supposed she could have left the old woman disguise on while she boarded the train, but she had a feeling that the man in the ticket booth and the conductor would both remember a shabby old woman who paid cash for a first class train compartment. She repressed a shudder at the thought of travelling in a second class compartment. She’d never done so in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. No. It was better to change her appearance, and hopefully not attract any undue attention to herself. She had no idea if there were others in the station watching for her, but it was by far better to be safe than sorry.

  As she’d learned more than once already in her short career.

  Leaving the chest on wheels in the corner, Evelyn hooked her purse over her shoulder and picked up her suitcases. It was time to go. She only had a few minutes to purchase her ticket and get to the boarding platform. There was no time to waste.

  She left the woman’s bathroom and moved rapidly towards the ticket counter, breathing a sigh of relief as the absence of a line. A few minutes later, she was running for the platform, a ticket tucked into her purse.

  Train stations were rarely deserted in large cities, but the lateness of the hour certainly made a difference in the amount of people hurrying around her. Unlike this afternoon when the station had been filled with throngs of commuters and travelers, Evelyn was one of perhaps half a dozen passengers hurrying to catch the train on her platform. All of her fellow passengers appeared to be exactly what she was pretending to be: respectable working people hurrying to catch the last train to Brussels. As she approached the train, Evelyn couldn’t stop the feeling of satisfaction that went through her. There was no way she could have known what type of people would be on the train, but she couldn’t have guessed any more accurately when she’d decided on a secretarial disguise. Perhaps Bill was right after all. Maybe she was made for this.

  The warning whistle blew as she climbed into one of the first class compartments, maneuvering her suitcase around the corner. She looked around and began moving along the narrow corridor until she came to a compartment that was empty. Evelyn went inside and exhaled. The conductors were calling their last calls on the platform. She’d just made it. She dropped into a seat by the window and placed her suitcase by her feet. Turning her attention out of the window, she watched as the last the conductor took a final look around before disappearing out of sight as he swung himself onto the train. A moment later, the train let out a huff and jerked into motion, pulling slowly away from the platform.

  She had done it. She was on her way to Brussels without the stranger in the street being any wiser. Evelyn leaned her head back on the seat for a moment, marveling at the ease with which she’d gotten away. Would it always be this easy? Probably not. Sooner or later, she’d have to become much more inventive with her disguises. Right now she had the advantage that she was relatively unknown on the continent, and in the intelligence network. She could move around fairly freely. Tonight had shown how quickly that could change, however. Not only had the man outside the hotel known about Lars, but now he knew what she looked like. It was a description that would make its way back to the Germans, and it wouldn’t take them long to realize that she was the same person they had been hunting in Norway. Perhaps it wouldn’t be this month, or even next month, but eventually Eisenjager and her old friend Hans Voss would begin to recognize the sightings, and then it would become much more dangerous for her to move around Europe.

  No, it wouldn’t always be this easy, she decided, lifting her head and looking out the window at the darkened landscape whizzing by. She’d been very lucky so far. Eventually that luck would run out, and then she’d have to rely on skill. Her lips twisted briefly. Skill that, hopefully, she had acquired by the time that became necessary.

  Evelyn wasn’t foolish. She knew she was poorly trained, and she also knew that somehow she was going to have to train herself as she went or she’d never survive this war. She had thought she was prepared for gathering intelligence on the continent, but after her flight through Sweden and then Norway a few months later, she had come to the sobering conclusion that she was nowhere near ready. There were so many things she hadn’t been taught, little things that, as she now knew, could mean the difference between living and dying. Yet she was rapidly finding that she had no idea what those things were until she came up against them.

  It wasn’t Bill’s fault, really. He was following the protocol set down before him. The trainers in Scotland were also following the instructions that were given to them. No, the fault lay with MI6 chiefs, she decided. They honestly had no idea what their agents were up against in the field. How could they thoroughly train their agents when they’d never been in the field themselves? The answer was simple. They couldn’t. It was up to her to learn as she went, and if she didn’t...well, that was that. No more spy games for her. Instead it would be a small funeral and a spot in the family plot at the church.

  As the train settled into a comfortable rocking, Evelyn unbuttoned her gloves and began to work them off her hands. She supposed she was thankful that she at least realized how little she knew and, therefore, was aware of how much she had yet to learn. Sifu had always liked to say that a man who was unaware of his limitations was the most dangerous of all. She had always taken that to mean that they would take reckless risks. Now she realized that if one were unaware of their own weakness, then they would never improve. Or, as in her present case, if she was unaware that she knew next to nothing about navigating the shadows to gather intelligence, then she would never learn how to do it successfully. And if she didn’t learn how to do it properly, she wouldn’t live to see the end of the month, let alone the end of the war.

  Laying her gloves in her lap, she made herself comfortable and leaned her head back again. There was nothing she could have done about Lars today. There was no way she could have known that he was being followed. They had taken every precaution within the station, even moving into the thickest crowds before he passed her the packet. There was nothing more she could have done then. Could she have realized she was being followed earlier than she did? Perhaps. While she was getting better at paying attention to people around her and, more importantly, people behind her, Evelyn knew she could do better in that area. But how to prevent being seen to begin with?

  Vladimir Lyakhov came into her mind suddenly, making her purse her lips thoughtfully. He was invisible. He moved throughout Europe at will, never leaving a trace. She knew this because MI6 had tried repeatedly to track him, all to no avail. The man was like a ghost. How many years had it taken him to learn to be invisible? How did he move through customs and borders without leaving a trace? How did he move valuable intelligence out of the Soviet Union and into the hands of agents like herself? These were the skills she needed to learn, and learn quickly.

  And she had no idea how to do it.

  Chapter Eight


  Vladimir Lyakhov nodded in parting to the train conductor and stepped onto the platform. The woman was moving towards the door to the lobby of the station, and he paused to look at his watch. He didn’t want to be too close to her as she made her way from the train to the streets of Brussels. If she had any sense, she’d be on her guard now, and he didn’t want to run the risk of her seeing him. Not just yet.

  He looked up from his watch as she disappeared through the wide opening into the lobby. Striding forward quickly, he went around a porter struggling with a pile of luggage and followed her through the entrance.

  He’d been waiting for Evelyn when she arrived in Brussels from Paris this morning. A man of extreme caution, he’d gotten there well ahead of her with the intent to watch her and ensure that MI6 hadn’t tried to get sneaky with their meeting. If there was any indication that Evelyn Ainsworth wasn’t alone, or that she had a tail, he had every intention of aborting the meeting. There had been neither, but the young British agent had still managed to surprise him. When she bought a ticket for Antwerp instead of leaving the station, his curiosity had been piqued, and he’d followed.

  Vladimir moved through the sparse crowd in the station lobby, his eyes on the blonde hair ahead of him. She had gone straight to one of the best hotels in Antwerp, checked in, and then promptly left again to return to the train station. Amazingly, the German agent camped out in the hotel lobby had never looked twice at her, his attention focused on another target altogether. That was a bit of luck, really. If the SS agent had been one of any stature at all, he would have recognized Evelyn for who she was. Vladimir shook his head as they moved towards the exit to the street. Soon she would have to change her appearance. Already too many German officers in the SS and SD knew what she looked like, and also knew that she was an enemy of the Reich. It wouldn’t be long before they disseminated that information down to the lower ranks. Once that happened, Jian’s relative anonymity would be gone. She was safe for now, but that wouldn’t last long, especially if another incident like what happened tonight occurred.