The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  Taking a deep, silent breath, Evelyn followed Jens into the house.

  Voss straightened up and threw his cigarette away when a couple turned the corner at the end of the street and started up the sidewalk. There had been others who had walked down the road only to proceed past Asp’s house, but something about these two was different. They seemed nervous, or at least the man did. He kept looking around as if he expected someone to jump out from behind the bushes and attack them. The woman, on the other hand, seemed completely unconcerned, her head held high and her stride light and even. It was definitely the man who was uncomfortable out of the two, Hans decided, watching them. He would be willing to bet that that was Eisenjager’s young Belgian. Who, then, was the woman? Someone who had fled from Brussels with him, more than likely. Perhaps a girlfriend.

  He watched as they walked along the sidewalk, waiting to see if they stopped across the road or continued on. As he watched, the woman tucked her hand inside his arm and looked up at him. They were too far away from Hans to see, but he would bet that she was smiling. She was definitely not nervous or worried about anything. Perhaps he was mistaken and it wasn’t the Belgian after all. Perhaps they were just two lovers out for a walk.

  Hans leaned against the side of the building again, his eyes never leaving the couple making their way down the street. It was getting late and he was getting tired. If someone didn’t show up soon, he was going to get irritable. There was only so long he could stand in this alley, watching the very uninspiring facade of the double-agent’s house, after all. He scowled. It was all the fault of the incompetent idiot in Antwerp who had allowed the courier to get away with the package in the first place. If not for him, Hans wouldn’t be here now. He would be in Berlin, presenting his superiors with the stolen plans for the Stuttgart plants.

  The couple stopped under the street lamp in front of Asp’s house and Hans stilled, raising his eyebrows. Then the woman partially turned and looked up at the man, a smile on her face. The light from above fell across her face and Hans straightened again with a soft gasp, shock rolling through him. He stared at the pale hair and large eyes that he knew were the color of bright cornflowers, his fists clenching at his sides.

  It was her! It was Rätsel, or Jian as she was called now. It was the woman from the café in Strasbourg all those months ago! The English spy who had been leading him around in circles for months was smiling brightly up at a clearly nervous young man directly across the street from him. Staring at her face, Hans was stunned. She was so close!

  He had lost her in Strasbourg, and then one of his agents had lost her again in Oslo. After that failure, the task of hunting her down was taken away from the SD and handed over to the Abwehr. By that time, her value had been recognized by men much higher himself. A beautiful young woman who spoke German perfectly and worked for the British government? She was a threat that couldn’t be ignored, especially after she assaulted an SS man in an alley in Stockholm, leaving him unconscious. After moving the responsibility over to the Abwehr for her apprehension, Eisenjager had been put on her trail in Norway last month. Hans’ lips twisted sardonically. For all his arrogance, even the famed assassin had failed, and Jian had once again slipped through all of their grasps.

  And now, unexpectedly, here she was.

  He watched as the two turned and started down the path that ran between Asp’s house and the one next door. They were almost to the side door when the realization of what this all meant hit Hans with such force that he sucked in his breath, his skin flushing and then growing cold. The courier wasn’t a courier at all, but the English spy Jian! He hadn’t been chasing a mere courier from Brussels, he’d been chasing the very woman he’d been looking for since a summer afternoon in Strasbourg before the war began!

  He couldn’t believe his good fortune! Not only would he get back the stolen plans that Berlin was so desperate to keep out of British hands, but he would also be the one to bring back Jian, the elusive British agent who was becoming bothersome in her tendency of showing up where they least expected her. Operation Nightshade would be a success, and his place in the senior command would be assured.

  Unless Eisenjager had also recognized her.

  Hans cursed and pressed his lips together. Somewhere nearby, the assassin was also watching, waiting for his Belgian target to show up. If he had recognized Jian just now as Hans had, he would be just as determined to claim her. His was an open contract, Hans knew. He had failed in Norway, but he would continue hunting her until he found and killed her. Hans clenched his fists again unconsciously. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Jian was all his.

  Eisenjager lifted his head from where it was laying back against the headrest and watched the couple that paused under the lamp outside Asp’s house. They weren’t the first pedestrians who had walked down the road in the past four hours, but they were the first who stopped outside the house. After a moment, they turned and walked down the path between the two houses and disappeared from view. He knew there was a side door. Voss had mentioned it earlier. They could be going to the side door, or they could simply be cutting between the houses to get to the street behind. There was no way for him to see from his position down the street. He would have to wait and see if the light went out in the front window. That was the only thing that concerned him. It would tell him that at least one of his targets was there.

  He wondered if it was Jens who had just walked down the path. If it was, who was the woman? Given how the rest of this mission had gone, it didn’t seem likely that he would have the absolute good fortune of having both targets together. That was far too easy, and nothing had been easy up until this point.

  She was probably a girlfriend, fleeing with him from Brussels, he decided dispassionately, watching the front window down the street. Whoever she was, she was of no interest to him aside from the obstacle she presented to getting to Jens. He hadn’t expected his target to have a companion, but that wasn’t very much of a problem, after all. Even the most devoted couples didn’t stay together twenty-four hours of the day. He would simply wait for a few of those moments when Jens was alone.

  It was a few minutes later when a shadow appeared behind the lamp in the window. The light went out and the curtains were pulled closed behind the lamp, blocking the view inside the house. Eisenjager sat forward and started the engine, shifting into gear. He would move up so that he was closer to the house now. When Jens left the house, he would get out and follow them on foot. Voss could continue to wait for the courier.

  He pulled the car over across the road from Asp’s house, stopping just past the alley where Voss was lurking. He smiled faintly at the thought of the SS man standing for hours while he’d been sitting in a car. He turned off the engine and looked over to the house. He had a clear view down the narrow alley now, and of the side door. Whether Jens left by the front door or the side, he would see him.

  Eisenjager shifted in his seat so that he could watch comfortably. He thought of Voss and his arrangement with Asp to retrieve the information given to him by the courier. Eisenjager had no such instructions from Berlin. He didn’t even know if Jen carried information, although the last transmission had made it seem as if he might be. Frowning, he realized that he didn’t know anything about his target at all. Why did Berlin want him in the first place? And why had they changed their mind now? Had Voss been given instructions regarding any papers that might have been passed from the Belgian in addition to those carried by the courier?

  Shaking his head, he pushed the questions aside. He wasn’t here to gather information that may or may not be in the house across the road. He was here for one purpose: to kill Jens Bernard and the courier who had carried a package all the way from Antwerp. That was it.

  And that was precisely what he would do.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I’d given up on your coming today,” Asp said, leading the way down a corridor towards a room in the front of the house. “I’m glad you made it. Wh
o is this you’ve brought with you?”

  “A friend,” Jens said. “She was trapped in Brussels when the Germans launched the invasion. I offered for her to come with me.”

  Asp motioned them into the sitting room and smiled at Evelyn as she followed Jens into the room.

  “And does your friend have a name?” he asked, following them.

  “Annette Beaumont,” Evelyn answered, turning and smiling. “Jens didn’t tell me what your name was. In fact, he’s been very mysterious about this whole visit. All he would tell me is that you’re an old friend.” She held up her hands, a picture of amused despair. “What shall I call you?”

  “My friends call me Asp. I hope you will as well, mademoiselle.”

  “Asp? What a funny name! Oh! I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”

  Asp smiled. “None was taken. It is a silly name. It’s one I’ve carried since I was a boy in school. I’m afraid I never really got rid of it as we grew older.”

  “I’m sure there’s an interesting story there,” she said gaily before glancing at Jens. She sobered comically and looked at Asp again ruefully. “Although I don’t think Jens shares my enthusiasm. I’ve been told I have a tendency to talk too much, and I suppose I’m doing that now. I’ll refrain and let you boys have your discussion.”

  “It won’t take but a moment, and then you may talk to your heart’s content,” Asp assured her, walking across the room towards the window where a small desk held a lamp. “I’ll just draw the curtains for privacy.”

  Jens had been watching the banter between them with a look of bemusement on his face. As Asp walked away from them, he shot Evelyn a look of confusion. She smiled calmly and shook her head very slightly. She had given the alias to their host in a moment of sudden panic, forgetting that Jens only knew her by Marie. But when Asp had asked her name, the only thought in her mind was that if the SS were truly on her tail, they would know the name Marie Fournier. The last thing she wanted to do was gamble on the chance that Asp hadn’t heard that name yet.

  “I must get this lamp fixed,” Asp was saying as he drew the heavy blackout curtains closed. “If I so much as knock the table, the light goes out. It’s really a nuisance sometimes.”

  “I’ll take a look at it if you like,” Jens offered. “I’m good with electrical things.”

  Asp turned away from the window, waving the offer away. “No, it’s quite all right. I’ll take care of it later. Now, I believe you said you had some letters for me?” he asked, glancing at Evelyn. “From our old professor?”

  Jens swallowed and nodded, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a rolled leather folder and held it out.

  “I’m sorry for the delay. The invasion sent everything into chaos,” he said with a smile.

  “Please don’t think anything of it,” Asp said, taking the roll. “You’re very fortunate to have been able to get out of Belgium as quickly as you did. I’ve heard that the Germans are bombing the roads now, and targeting the citizens trying to flee.”

  Evelyn gasped, feigning shock. “No!”

  Asp nodded soberly and turned to carry the roll across the room towards the window. “Yes, mademoiselle. It’s a very sad business.”

  They watched as he bent down and pulled back the rug in front of the window. Evelyn’s eyebrows soared into her forehead when he pulled up part of the floor board to reveal a hidden compartment. He dropped the roll inside and replaced the board.

  “You must stay for a drink,” he said, replacing the rug. “I have a very good port that I think you’ll like.”

  “Thank you, but Mari—Annette is anxious to get to Paris,” Jens said.

  Evelyn inwardly winced at his slip, her breath catching in her throat. She managed to keep her face neutral as if nothing had happened while her heart started pounding. Asp looked up sharply, his gaze piercing, before he stood up again.

  “What a shame. Another time perhaps.” He walked over to a side table and opened a box, pulling out a cigarette. “You were in Brussels, mademoiselle? Were you visiting friends perhaps?”

  “No. I was there to deliver some messages and make appointments for my employer. I’m a secretary for a businessman. He was detained at a conference in Switzerland and sent me to Belgium in his stead.”

  “How unfortunate for you.” Asp held out the box, offering them a cigarette, then closed it and put it down when they both shook their heads. “I can’t imagine anything more unsettling than being in a country while it’s being invaded.”

  He lit his cigarette and went over to the fireplace to toss the match into the empty hearth. Evelyn glanced at Jens behind his back to find his face pale and his lips pressed together. She touched his hand, willing him to relax. The man looked like he was about to be forced down the plank into shark-infested water.

  “I heard the most interesting thing this morning,” Asp said conversationally, turning back to them. “They say that someone stole plans for several munitions factories in Stuttgart a week ago. The plans were smuggled out of Germany and into Holland, where they were then carried by a courier to Antwerp.”

  “Oh?” Jens found his voice. “What happened to them?”

  “That’s the interesting part. They were passed on to another courier, a woman by all accounts, who then took them to Brussels.” Asp slid his gaze to Evelyn’s face. “The SS is very eager to get them back, and have sent officers looking for her.”

  “Goodness!” Evelyn murmured, her eyes wide. “How frightening!”

  Something like a smile graced his thin lips and Asp nodded in agreement.

  “Yes. I can’t think of anything worse than having the Gestapo after me.” He sucked on his cigarette and blew the smoke up to the ceiling, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’m told they don’t know what she looks like, but they have the name she was using in Brussels.”

  “I can’t imagine that will get them very far,” Jens said. “If they don’t know what she looks like, how can they find her, really? Anyway, she’s probably passed the package on by now if she’s a courier. When was this?”

  “A few days ago. You’re probably right. If she was simply a courier, then she would no longer have the package.” Asp considered the glowing tip of his cigarette. “They think she is trying to get the plans to the British. If she is, and she isn’t a simple courier as they think, then she would have fled Brussels when the Germans invaded. I’d imagine she’d try to get to Paris, where she can contact the British.”

  “Couldn’t she do that from anywhere in France?” Evelyn couldn’t help herself. “Why would it have to be Paris?”

  “Perhaps it doesn’t.” He looked up suddenly and pinned her with a piercing gaze. “Perhaps she’s simply from Paris.”

  “This is all fascinating, but I confess I don’t know why you’re telling us,” she said with a smile, pleased when her voice came out steady and calm.

  “I haven’t told you the most interesting part,” Asp said with an answering smile that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “My source told me that the woman’s name is Marie.”

  Evelyn licked her suddenly dry lips. “And why is that interesting?”

  “Well, my dear, I would have thought it was obvious. Jens called you Marie just now.”

  “I didn’t,” Jens protested. “Well, I mean, I did, but that’s because she reminds me of my cousin Marie.”

  Asp smiled indulgently at him. “Of course she does.”

  Evelyn felt her limbs begin to tremble, but she ignored the feeling as the bi-product of fear, something Sifu had long told her was nothing but an overabundance of adrenaline, fed by her own imagination. Strange how even in the face of an enemy who had obviously put two and two together, thanks to Jens’ blunder, she was thinking of random teachings from her martial arts teacher years before.

  “If the SS is so intent on finding this woman, then I wonder why you’re telling us all of this,” she said, meeting his gaze coolly. “Surely it only puts you in danger to be passing on this inf
ormation.”

  “I’m only in danger if I am caught,” he pointed out with a smile. “I think you’re both misunderstanding me, so let me be very blunt. I believe you are Marie Fournier, the woman who is carrying stolen plans from Belgium to give to a British agent here in France.”

  Jens sucked in his breath and looked from Asp to Evelyn, then back again. “Fournier? That’s the woman’s name?”

  “Yes.”

  Jens looked at Evelyn. “But...that’s impossible! Isn’t it? You’re not her, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” she said quickly. “Do I look like someone who would be carrying stolen plans across Europe?”

  Jens shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No, but I don’t think I look like someone who would be carrying stolen, decoded messages across Europe either.”

  Asp watched them with interest, his eyes narrowed. “How fascinating! Did you really not know?” he asked Jens. Turning to Evelyn, he inclined his head slightly. “I commend you, mademoiselle.”

  “There is no need to, I assure you.”

  “Why don’t you let me help?” he asked, throwing his cigarette butt into the hearth. “Give me the package and I’ll ensure that it gets to an agent who works with MI6. I know a man in Paris who has been in contact with them. He will know how to get it to them quickly.”

  “Even if she had it, which I don’t believe that she does, why would you do that?” Jens demanded. “Why would you risk it?”

  “For the same reason that I risk passing on the information that you’ve been sending me,” Asp replied with a shrug. “According to the man I spoke with this morning, the SS have sent one of their senior officers to find you. He is already in France. It will be only a matter of time before he finds you. If that happens before you’ve been able to pass it along...”