The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  After sitting for a moment listening to the holy silence of the sanctuary around her, Evelyn let out an impatient sigh and got up again, turning to look up at the statue of St Simon. He held the golden saw with one arm, and the other hand rested on a large tome with carving so ornate that she could almost hear the pages of the book rustling as his fingers rested on them.

  “Simon the Zealot, not to be confused with Simon Peter,” a deep voice spoke from the other side of the column and she started, looking to her left as a man with dark hair moved out from behind the wide marble column. “No one really knows very much about him. He was known by several different names in his time, and for a long while there was much debate as to how and where he had his ministry. Some texts claim he was the second bishop of Jerusalem, and was crucified there just as Christ was. Others claim he traveled as far as Africa and was crucified in Samaria. However, the general belief held by the Church is that he was killed in Persia, sawn in half for teaching Christianity.”

  “Hence the golden saw?” Evelyn found her voice.

  “Precisely.” Vladimir Lyakhov stopped next to her and lowered his gaze to her face. “You look well. I trust you’ve recovered from your adventure in Norway?”

  Evelyn swallowed and looked up into his lean face, noting the fine lines around his gray eyes. She hadn’t noticed them on the occasion of their last meeting, but she supposed she hadn’t really been focused on his appearance at that time. She remembered his eyes well enough, though. They were piercing and intelligent, and gave her the distinct impression that he rarely missed anything, and perhaps saw more than others were even aware was there.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, giving him a hesitant smile. “How did you know I was there?”

  “I have people in Oslo, of course.” He motioned with one hand. “Come. Let’s walk and admire the stunning architecture while we discuss our situation. I’m pleased to see that you’ve become much more cautious in your travel. You’ve learned to look over your shoulder.”

  “Being chased across Norway by the SS will do that,” she murmured dryly.

  “Not just the SS, I think. You’re aware of Eisenjager?”

  She looked at him sharply, then nodded. “Yes. But how are you?”

  “Everyone knows about him,” Vladimir said with a shrug. “He has quite the reputation, and has built it into a legend worthy of the Nazi regime. I received information that he was in Norway, following you. You’re extremely lucky to have escaped alive. To my knowledge, no one ever has when he has been engaged.”

  Evelyn stopped in front of the next column and gazed up at the apostle there.

  “How did I get away, I wonder?” she said, almost to herself. “I still wonder if he allowed me to leave for some reason. Everything I’ve heard of him since says that it must have been something like that, but I can’t for the life of me imagine why that would be.”

  “Perhaps Fate intervened,” he suggested with a flash of white teeth. “Or perhaps you were just very lucky. Regardless of which it was, you should never have been put in that position in the first place. I don’t know what induced them to send you to Oslo when an invasion was so close.”

  She shot him an amused look. “Yes, I heard you were rather scathing about what you termed as carelessness on the part of MI6 to send me there.”

  “It was careless, grossly careless. They had to have been aware of the imminent threat, and you were not prepared to be trapped in an occupied country.” Vladimir waved his hand impatiently. “If your father were alive, it would never have happened.”

  “If my father were alive, I would not be here. He would.”

  He looked at her, a flash of amusement in his deep-set eyes. “So he would.”

  Evelyn was silent for a moment, then she raised her eyes to his face.

  “Why does it matter to you that I was sent to Oslo right before...well, that I was put into that situation?”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “Not especially.”

  “And why is that?”

  “It’s what I agreed to do. I’m doing it again now. The Nazis will move towards France any time now, and I’m here in Belgium, meeting with you. It’s a risk that comes along with the territory. I’ve never been under any disillusionment as to what my duty is.”

  “Ah yes, duty.” Vladimir’s lips twisted and he nodded sagely. “A very compelling word, that. It covers all manner of sins with the respectable blanket of morality and patriotism. Tell me, why is it that you agreed to take your father’s place?”

  “You didn’t leave me with much of a choice, did you?” Evelyn asked with a shrug. “In order to continue our relationship with you, I had to step in.”

  “And are you regretting it?”

  “Not yet. Will I?”

  Vladimir met her direct gaze and smiled. “I hope not. I wish you nothing but the best, my dear. I want you to know that.”

  “Do you know, I always feel very suspicious when someone tells me that they want only the best for me.”

  He chuckled and stopped before the next column, looking up at it thoughtfully. “That shows some wisdom. It is, however, true in this case. I had a very high regard for Robert, and you have proved yourself to be very capable in his stead.” He lowered his gaze to her face again. “I wish you had better training, and more time to adjust to this world we find ourselves navigating now, but I have nothing but confidence in you.”

  Evelyn stared at him for a moment, then inclined her head slightly. “Thank you. There is nothing I can do to rectify either point, but I appreciate your faith in me. You must be aware that I’m simply bumbling my way through everything, though.”

  “As we all do in the beginning.” He hesitated, then gently took her elbow and guided her into an antechamber that turned out to be a smaller chapel. “But where I had the luxury of experiencing my growing pains during peace, you must now go through them in war. I hope you won’t be offended when I say this, but I’d like to help you as much as I can.”

  “I’m not offended at all, but I don’t see how you can.”

  “There are so many things you still have to learn if you are to survive, but there isn’t time to go over everything. For now, let me tell you the most pressing. Eisenjager was able to find you so quickly and so easily in Norway because he already knew where to look.” Vladimir seated himself in a chair before a statue of the Virgin Mary and Evelyn sank down beside him. “You returned to the same boarding house where you stayed last November, and used the same woman to help you.” He held up his hand when she would have spoken, shaking his head. “No. Just listen, please. The German assassin only had to go where he knew you’d been before, and there you were. The first thing you must learn, and learn now, is that you can never revisit the same place twice, or use the same contacts so openly.”

  “But Anna was working with the embassy,” Evelyn protested. “It only made sense to...”

  “Yes, and he knew you worked with her before. If he hadn’t been able to find you through the boarding house, he still would have found you through Anna.” Vladimir’s gaze was not unkind, but the disapproval was apparent in the set of his lips and his jaw. “That is why it is a miracle that you escaped. He could have killed you at any time before you ever knew he was there. And those are the mistakes that cost hundreds of people like us their lives, as well as those civilians around them.”

  Evelyn swallowed and sat back in her chair, shifting her gaze blindly to the Virgin Mary and her beaming countenance. As much as she was uncomfortable being corrected by a Soviet agent, she knew that his experience far outweighed hers, and she would be a fool not to listen to him.

  “What should I have done?” she finally asked, breaking her silence a few moments later.

  “Stayed in another part of the city, and communicated with Anna only through messages that could never be traced back to you. Not only would it have protected you, but it would have also protected her.” Vladimir shifted on his seat to face her. “Our con
tacts are our most valuable weapon, Jian. Without them, we are useless. They must be protected at all costs.”

  “How do you know my codename?” she gasped, turning her head sharply.

  “I know everything about you, even about your young pilot friend.” He held up his hand again when she opened her mouth to reply. “Don’t let’s argue. You are my contact. I must know everything I can about you, not just to protect myself, but to protect you as well.”

  Evelyn stared at him, her brows snapping together. “That’s why you’re always two steps ahead of me,” she said slowly. “You’re protecting your interests.”

  “Yes. And you must learn to do the same for the contacts you will make in this business. You will find them in the most unlikely of places, and they must be protected above all else because that’s where you’ll get all your information, help and, in turn, protection.”

  “How do I do that, though?” She looked at him helplessly. “How do I communicate with them and not see them in person?”

  “The same way we will. You will set up channels of communication that have safeguards to protect both parties. When the chain of communication is activated, it will follow certain patterns. Any deviation from those patterns will warn you of danger, and you will be able to walk away before you are caught.”

  Evelyn nodded, her mind spinning. What he was saying made perfect sense. Everything he’d said made perfect sense. So then why hadn’t she been trained like this from the very beginning by her own government?

  “And what of us?” she finally asked, reluctantly coming back to the reason for their meeting. “How will we communicate?”

  “I have a system in place, one that I used with your father on occasion when I had something I didn’t want others to know about. It works, and hasn’t failed me yet. We will, of course, have to adjust it slightly. You move around quite a bit, and that is a challenge.”

  “From what I can tell, so do you,” Evelyn retorted. “For a Soviet citizen, you travel very frequently beyond the borders of the Soviet Union.”

  Vladimir smiled a wolfish grin. “One of the perks of my position,” he said, “and one that I take advantage of whenever I can.”

  “Well, you’d best explain to me how this will work.”

  “When I have something for you, a specific phrase will be included in the Radio Moscow broadcast. I know your people monitor it daily. You will arrange to be notified if it’s included.”

  “I thought you didn’t want any involvement of MI6 in our communication.”

  “That will be the extent of their involvement. They will notify you of the message, and you will take it from there.”

  Evelyn scoffed and shook her head. “They’ll never leave it at that.”

  “They will have to, or they will lose me as an informant.”

  She looked at his face and shivered inwardly at the look in his eyes. Suddenly, the affable friend was gone and in his place was the cold, hard Soviet agent.

  “What is the phrase?” she asked.

  “There will be clear skies over the Red Square.”

  “There will be clear skies over the Red Square?” she repeated incredulously. “What if it’s raining?”

  That surprised a bark of laughter from him. “It will be worked into the broadcast, do not worry. We’re very good at this.”

  Evelyn made a face. “Apparently. Very well. The phrase is in the broadcast and we hear it. Then what?”

  “It will be included every day until you make contact. You will do that by sending a telegram to the Bellevue Palace Hotel in Bern, Switzerland.”

  “Bellevue Palace Hotel!” Evelyn gasped, and she could feel the blood draining from her face as she stared at him. Something like compassion crossed his face before disappearing so completely that she wondered if she had seen it at all.

  “Yes. The hotel where your father died.”

  “But...why?”

  “I have a man there who will receive the message and answer it with further instructions. Rest assured that those instructions will come from me. He is imminently respectful and trustworthy. You will follow the instructions to the letter.”

  “Very well.”

  “Good. Now, I must make one thing very clear. If you are to be killed, a message must be included in the BBC broadcast for five straight days. That message will be, ‘The Bluebird, a fishing vessel, was sunk off the coast of Dover.’ Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Evelyn made another face. “I don’t much appreciate knowing that my death will be reported as a sunken fishing boat, but very well.”

  “Once that message is reported, all communication between myself and MI6 will cease. If I can no longer deal directly with you, then I will stop all together.”

  “What?!” she looked up, startled. “But that’s ridiculous. Why should you stop just because I was presumably foolish enough to go and get myself killed?”

  “Because, my dear Jian, you are the only one in your organization whom I trust. If I cannot pass my intelligence directly to you, it will remain in Moscow.”

  Evelyn swallowed and shook her head, raising a hand to rub her forehead. “Well, I must say I find it all very strange. Why me?”

  “Because you are very like your father,” he said unexpectedly. “Very like him, only better. There is too much at stake for me to take risks if you are killed as well.”

  Her head snapped up at that. “As well?”

  Vladimir shrugged, his face impassive. “Yes. Your father is dead, and if you die, then you are dead as well.”

  Evelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, but another thought promptly filled her head, distracting her from the morbid conversation.

  “What if I have to contact you?” she asked.

  “You?” He seemed surprised at the idea. “Why would you have to contact me?”

  “Well, I don’t know, but what if I do? It’s only fair that I have a way to reach out to you as well.”

  Vladimir pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “You are right. You should be able to reach me if anything arises. Very well. Let me think for a moment.”

  He got up and paced in front of the Virgin Mary slowly, his hand clasped behind his back and his thick, black brows furrowed in thought. Evelyn watched him, wondering if no one had ever asked him this before. Had her father not had a way to contact him directly?

  “I think the best, and most direct way, is to reverse the system already in place,” he said finally, stopping before her. “You will include a message in the BBC broadcast, and I will make contact by sending a message to the hotel in Bern. What will the message be?”

  “Oh heavens, I have no idea!” Evelyn gaped at him. “What should it be?”

  “Something simple.” He fell silent again and turned to continue pacing. “Something that will be easy to slip into any broadcast.”

  “The traffic is stalled in Piccadilly?” Evelyn offered after a moment of thought. “That would be easy. The traffic is always bad in Piccadilly.”

  He looked at her, amused again. “Very practical, my dear. Very well. The traffic is stalled in Piccadilly. I’ll certainly remember it. You’ll have it broadcast every day until I’ve responded. I’ll send a message to the Bellevue Palace, but it will be up to you set up the rest. You’ll need to set up a regular location for our man to forward my message to. Make it somewhere that you will be able access easily, but that won’t arouse suspicion. For example, a post office or a hotel. It should be somewhere public where no one will notice you receiving and sending telegrams. When you receive the message, you can then send instructions and he will ensure that I receive them.”

  “Very well.”

  “There’s just one thing. If you’ll be away for any amount of time, in another country, for instance, or if you must change the location for any reason, you must go to Bern and arrange it with him personally. You can’t change the process without doing it in person. That is one of my safeguards, and I really must insist that you follow it as well.”

 
; “Do I need to set this all up in person, then?” Evelyn asked, surprised. “I have to go to Switzerland to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why can’t I just tell you and you make the arrangements?”

  “Absolutely not.” Vladimir sat down beside her again. “It’s imperative that no one know the location or details but you.”

  “Even you?”

  “Especially me.” His lips twisted and he looked at her with a half-smile. “Should any suspicion fall on me or on the hotel, my country will be relentless in discovering your identity. We are very good at extracting information, and I would not trust your safety to my ability to withstand continuous interrogation.”

  Evelyn swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Oh. I see.”

  He reached out and covered her gloved hands with one of his own. “We are each other’s shield, Jian, and our own sword.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “You know what a jian is?”

  “Yes. I own two in my personal collection. I picked them up in Beijing around the same time you were in Hong Kong.” He smiled. “I think it is a fitting codename for you. Your father would have appreciated it.”

  “Yes. I think he would.” She sighed and looked down at his hand covering hers. “We are each other’s shield, and our own sword. I enjoy that very much. Les boucliers.”

  “Yes.” He tightened his hand briefly on hers, then stood up. “However, I do think I shall use my own codename for you moving forward. I’ll leave Jian to your countrymen.”

  Evelyn looked at him, surprised once again. “You have a codename for me?”

  “Yes, of course.” He looked amused again. “I call you Lotus. Now that we’ll be communicating directly, it’s necessary. You may continue to use Shustov for me.”

  “Very well.”

  “We are in agreement, then. You will go to Bern and arrange everything with Monsieur Moreau. Philip Moreau. He is the night manager there.”

  “A Frenchman?”

  “Swiss, my dear Elena. Do not make the mistake of accusing him of being French.”