by CW Browning
Jasper stared at him for a moment, his brows drawn together fiercely. After a tense silence, he exhaled and glanced up at the waiter coming across the restaurant with their lunch.
“Well, let’s hope that Hitler is not looking at it from your point of view,” he muttered, “or all our boys in France will be in for a nasty time of it.”
RAF Duxford
Miles pushed back his canopy with one hand and inhaled deeply as warm, fresh air rushed into the cockpit. He glanced down at the fields below him and smiled at the sight of a boy on a bicycle peddling along the road next to a hedgerow. As Miles roared over, the boy waved gaily, tilting his head up to watch the Spitfire. Miles moved the stick, wiggling the wings in a return wave before turning his attention back to the landing strip just over the next hedgerow. After a long morning in the air putting the new pilots through their paces, coming down only to refuel and go right back up, he was looking forward to his lunch. His legs were cramped, he was thirsty, and even his unflagging love for flying couldn’t stop him from looking forward to getting out of the cockpit and stretching his legs.
He let the flaps down and watched as the final row of trees disappeared behind him, the ground rushing up to meet him like an old friend. His wheels touched the grass and the sleek fighter plane settled onto the ground with a sigh, rolling smoothly down the landing strip towards a row of parked Spits in the distance. Miles glanced at his instruments and smiled faintly. His fuel was almost gone. He’d cut it close this time, but he hadn’t been able to resist doing one last pass over the coast on his way back from a patrol. Chris had come back ahead of him for the same reason that Miles was now relieved to be home. He had been hungry, thirsty, and low on fuel.
Guiding the plane into a spot near Chris’s Spit, Miles watched as the Yank jumped off the wing, stripping off his flying gloves. He looked up as Miles shut down his engines and stood between the planes, waiting while Miles undid his straps and climbed out of the cockpit.
“About time you showed up!” Chris called. “I came in on fumes, so I know you must have been low on fuel!”
“Nothing to be worried about,” Miles retorted, jumping off the wing of his plane. He glanced over at the ground crew sergeant who was busy putting chucks in front of the wheels. “She’ll need refueling,” he called. “And check the undercarriage handle, will you? It was a bit sticky when I came in.”
“Yes, sir!”
Miles turned away and stripped off his gloves as he fell into step beside Chris. “I’ll be glad to have my lunch,” he said with a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m starving.”
“We’re the last ones back, it looks like. Here’s hoping there’s still some lunch left!”
They started across the field, heading towards the buildings in the distance. Their boots trudged through the ankle high course grass and Miles inhaled, tilting his head back to let the sun warm his face.
“The new kids aren’t half bad,” Chris said after a moment. “The one almost took my tail off when we were coming in, but all in all, they’re not bad.”
“They’re not good, either,” Miles said with a quick grin. “Did you see them land yesterday? They bounced along like pogo sticks. It was embarrassing to watch.”
Chris chuckled. “They’ll figure it out. Just give them time.”
“If we have time. Who knows how long before Herr Hitler goes for France.” Miles undid his jacket and loosened the silk scarf around his neck. “Do you know they only have twenty hours on Spits? Both of them?”
“There was a time when we only had twenty hours of flying time, you know. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
“Yes, but we didn’t start in the middle of a war, dear boy.”
“Well, we’re lucky that way.” Chris shrugged. “Twenty hours isn’t a lot, I’ll grant you, but they’ll be just fine. We’ll get them some flying time and by the time Jerry comes, they’ll be ready.”
“I hope so.”
“Say, how’s your ASO?” Chris asked after a few moments of silence. “Is she still at Northolt?”
“Yes.”
“Well, when do we all get to meet her? As far as I can tell, Rob’s the only one who has.”
“Well, he is her brother. It’d be rather strange if he hadn’t,” Miles said wryly. “But if you think I’m stupid enough to let her anywhere near you, you’re barmy. I’m no fool.”
“Me? What’s wrong with me?” Chris asked with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling.
“You’re American.”
“Yes, I know. What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re different and exotic. Evelyn only ever sees Englishmen. I don’t want her thinking that you’re new and exciting, and that New York seems like a better place to live than Yorkshire.”
“Boston,” Chris corrected him with a laugh. “I’m from Boston, not New York. And I thought Rob said they were from Lancashire, wherever that is.”
“They are.” Miles glanced at him. “I’m from Yorkshire.”
“Oho! So that’s how it is, is it?” Chris clapped him on the back of his shoulder. “She must be one hell of a girl to get you thinking about settling down. Congratulations!”
“A little premature, Yank. There hasn’t been any discussion of that, yet.”
“Yet.” Chris grinned “Now you can’t get out of introducing us to her, you know. If you’re going to try to shackle yourself to her for the rest of your life, we have a right to offer our opinions.”
“What on earth makes you think that your opinion will make an ounce of difference to me?”
“I don’t, but it won’t stop us all from giving it, especially Slippy.”
Miles grimaced. “Good Lord, can’t we lock him up in a hangar somewhere?”
“Afraid not. He’s one of us, you know. If she’s going to stick with you, she needs to know just what she’s getting herself into.”
Miles smiled. “Oh, I think she knows already.”
“Poor girl. She doesn’t stand a chance, does she?” Chris laughed as they stepped onto the paved road in front of the officer’s mess. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Well you’ll have to, I’m afraid. She said in her letter this morning that she’s off training somewhere in the south-west. Near Cornwall, I think.”
“She travels a lot, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. It’s part of her job, y’know. All terribly hush-hush.”
“Does she like it?”
“She seems to.” Miles reached out and pulled open the door to the officer’s building. “I think she gets tired, though.”
“Don’t we all.” Chris followed him into the building and pulled off his hat, turning to head off in the direction of the restrooms. “I’ll see you in there.”
Miles nodded and turned to go towards the dining room, the affable smile on his face fading. Yes, they were all getting tired, but where they were getting tired of waiting for the war to finally get started, he had a feeling that Evelyn was getting tired from all the traveling she was forced to do. It had to be wearing her down, traveling all over England and Scotland, never staying long in one place. Even when she was home at Northolt, it was rarely for more than a week or so, and then she was off again. He thought of the haunted look in her eyes the last time he’d seen her. She had been tired, but also something else. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
His Evelyn that he’d met in the hallway at Ainsworth Manor seven months ago had changed. She wasn’t the same young woman she’d been that day in October. Oh, she still looked the same, and laughed the same, but something fundamental had changed. Something down inside her had tempered the light in her eyes, and she wasn’t as quick to laugh at the folly of life anymore. Miles sighed silently. Perhaps the war was changing her. He supposed it was inevitable that it would change them all in the end. He had no illusion that they would all get out of this unscathed. War demanded a high toll from those who were forced to be part of it, and perhaps Evelyn was just beginning to see that.
In the end,
he supposed they all would. He just hoped they would live long enough to see the end of it.
Chapter Thirteen
Brussels, Belgium
Evelyn stepped into the small café and looked around, the smell of strong coffee and freshly baked pastries rushing over her. There weren’t many customers this time of day and a majority of the tables were empty, with the exception of the small back corner table. As she entered the café, Jens stood up and waved to her from the corner. With a smile, Evelyn tucked her clutch purse under her arm and made her way through the café to his table.
“You got my note!” he exclaimed, holding out both his hands to her. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Of course!” she replied with a smile, grasping his hands lightly. “I hope everything’s all right.”
Jens pulled out one of the chairs and she sank into it gracefully. “Well, that all depends on what you consider all right,” he said, returning to his own seat. “I’m sure you’re not used to getting strange notes like that from people you just met, I assure you that this is of the utmost importance.”
Evelyn looked up as a waiter came towards the table. Glancing at the steaming cup of coffee before Jens, she ordered a cup of coffee in French and the waiter smiled and bowed politely before leaving to get her drink. Turning her attention back to Jens, Evelyn set her bag on the table and looked at him expectantly.
“Well now you really must tell me what it is that’s of so much importance,” she said with a teasing smile. “You have me on the edge of my seat!”
“Do you remember what we were discussing last night over dinner?” Jens asked, lowering his voice.
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, it looks like it will happen sooner rather than later. There’s a lot of activity going on all along the borders, and Belgium has declared a state of emergency.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened and she looked at him, her lips parted on a soft gasp. “A state of emergency? What does that mean?”
“The Army has been put on alert and many of the units are being moved to the border with Germany.”
“So it’s finally happening,” she said softly, sitting back in her seat. “What’s happened? I haven’t heard anything on the wireless or seen anything in the papers today.”
“No, you won’t. The government is keeping it quiet for now.” Jens stopped talking as the waiter came back with Evelyn’s coffee. He waited until the cup was set down before her and the waiter had departed before lowering his voice even more. “We’ve intercepted several messages originating within the German forces. They began transmitting furiously very early this morning. In addition, we’re getting reports coming in from all sides and in all quarters stating that German forces are mobilizing and moving towards Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg. Even though we can’t decipher all of the German messages, the frequency and urgency of them, along with the reports of massive troop movements, leaves no other alternative. Hitler’s getting ready to move.”
Evelyn was quiet for a moment, sipping her hot coffee thoughtfully. Her blue eyes gazed across the table at Jens, studying him over the rim of her cup. When she lowered it, not even the flicker of an eyelid displayed her thoughts.
“You don’t seem very concerned for someone whose country appears to be on the verge of being invaded,” she finally said quietly.
Jens shrugged. “I’ve known that it’s been coming for so long now that it’s almost a relief to know that it’s about to begin,” he admitted in a low voice. “And I will also admit to some small feeling of justification on my part.”
“Oh?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow curiously. “And why is that?”
“There are several of us who have been warning the government that this was coming. We’ve been ignored for the past few months, but now they can’t ignore us any longer. The evidence is too great.”
“And so now your army is on full alert.”
“Yes.” Jens exhaled heavily and lifted up his mug to take a long drink. “The royal family of Luxembourg, and the majority of its government, has already fled into France. They left this morning. There can be no doubt that an offensive will happen very soon.”
“And the Belgian government?” Evelyn asked after a second of silence. “Are they fleeing Brussels?”
“No. The general feeling seems to be that it will be sometime before the Germans can reach Brussels. They’ll go through Holland first, or so everyone says.”
“Where are the largest concentrations of German troops?” she asked.
Jens looked at her curiously. “What?”
“Well, presumably if you find the largest concentrations of German troops, then you’ll find where their main attack will come from,” she said logically. “Do you know?”
“Not exactly. The reports we’re getting are scattered. And, of course, we can’t take them all at face value. If we did, then the Germans are coming from everywhere, which of course is impossible.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said slowly. “Quite impossible.”
She was silent for a long moment, sipping her coffee, before she suddenly looked up with a disconcertingly keen gaze. “Tell me, has anything else been seen or heard of the motorized columns that were approaching the Ardennes?”
Jens looks uncomfortable, and then he shook his head. “No. They’ve disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Evelyn repeated. “Motorized columns of troops don’t just disappear.”
“No, but as far as my government is concerned, they have.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed at the distinctly annoyed tone in Jens’s voice. He didn’t agree with something that was going on, but she could hardly ask him what it was. Instead, she forced a smile.
“Well, that’s something at least.”
Jens nodded and seemed to force a smile of his own. “Yes, isn’t it? I wish the rest of the German army would follow suit.”
“Don’t we all. Somehow I don’t think we’ll be that lucky, do you?”
“No, and that’s why I asked you here,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hands in his. Concerned brown eyes stared into hers. “You must leave and go back to Paris. I don’t know how much longer it will be safe here.”
“Why Jens Bernard, are you trying to get rid of me already?” she teased. “There are easier ways, you know.”
Jens flushed a dull read. “No, I... I mean to say, it’s rotten luck that this is happening now.”
“Yes it is, isn’t it?” She smiled and squeezed his hands before pulling hers away. “But really it comes as no great shock. As you said, we all knew that it was coming.”
“Then you’ll leave? You’ll go back to Paris immediately?”
“Not immediately, but I’m already taking the morning train.”
“Well that does make me feel better,” Jen said with a smile. “I know it’s probably silly of me, but I feel kind of responsible for you. After all, you’re visiting my city.”
Evelyn laughed lightly. “My dear boy, you’re hardly responsible for my being in Brussels. If anyone has that honor, that would be my employer. And myself, I suppose,” she added thoughtfully. “I came here under no dissolution. All of Europe knows what’s coming, even if most of us choose to pretend that it won’t happen. Luckily I’ve completed my work here and was already planning to leave in the morning. And so, you see, there’s been no harm done. You have no need to feel responsible for me.”
“Yes I know, but I feel it all the same.”
“You’re a good person, Jens,” she said softly. “I hope you make out all right through all of this. If the Germans do make it into Belgium, will you leave Brussels?”
“I don’t know. I have family in the country, but I hadn’t really given much thought to where I’ll go if...well, I suppose there’ll be time enough to think about that when it happens.”
“There’s always France,” Evelyn said gaily. “You said you wanted to visit.”
Jens’s lips twisted and he smiled ruefully. “This isn’t quite what I had
in mind though.”
“No, I know. As you said, what rotten luck.”
They were both quiet for a moment and then Jens looked up. “At least I was able to have one last dinner at Marcel’s,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for that.”
“I should be thanking you. I had a lovely time, and even though my stay is being cut short, it was a very nice stay thanks to you.” Evelyn finished her coffee, setting the empty cup down with the click. “Now please don’t worry about me. I’ll be on the first train to Paris in the morning, safely out of harm’s way. I do appreciate you sharing all of this with me, however. I wish there was something I could do to help you through it all.”
The shrug Jens gave was resigned.
“I’m very much afraid that the only one who can help us now is God himself.”
The man known as Eisenjager bent over the low sink and held his hands under the running tap. Blood mixed with water to swirl around the drain and, once the worst of it was off, he reached for a sliver of soap. The job was done. The man from Zurich, whom he had followed to Brussels as instructed, was dead, and the information he had been carrying to the British attaché was now in his hands. The end had been a bit messier than Eisenjager was used to, but that couldn’t be helped. At least it was done.
After scrubbing away the last of the blood, Eisenjager stripped out of his blood-splattered shirt and tossed it into the sink. He would throw it away in an alley when he went to dinner, but right now he had to contact Hamburg. They would be waiting for news.
He left the small bathroom and went over to the open suitcase on a chair near the bed. Pulling out a clean shirt, he shrugged into it as his eyes strayed to the window overlooking Brussels. He’d always enjoyed the city. After arriving early this morning, however, he hadn’t had time to revisit some of his favorite haunts. A shame, that. Perhaps, if his handler didn’t have another job for him, he would stay a day or two and become reacquainted with the city. Soon it would be very different from the Brussels he knew and loved. Soon, everything in Europe would be very different.
