The Iron Storm

by CW Browning

  He let his voice trail off and shrugged again. Evelyn felt her spine stiffen and a flash of anger went through her. The man had seen an opportunity, and was going to do everything he could to get the package back himself. It would be quite a feather in his cap to present the Germans with their missing plans. He was an opportunist, and would sell everyone he knew out to the highest bidder if it benefitted him. It was people like him that would extend this war, turning friends against family until there was no trust or faith left. In a sudden instant of clarity, Evelyn realized that the man smiling so suavely at her was the epitome of everything she loathed and hated, and the very reason she had agreed to join MI6 and fight for all that was good in this new world they were living in. He symbolized the smug arrogance that had propelled ordinary men and women into this war. It was that arrogance that was the reason she was standing in this shabby little sitting room in a country village in France, instead of in her own gracious drawing room at Ainsworth Manor.

  And she was suddenly furious.

  “Even if I did have it, I would hardly give it to someone I don’t know in the hopes that he might be able to pass it onto someone else,” she said coldly. “If I had gone through the trouble of carrying it all the way from Antwerp, through an invasion, and over the border into France, why on earth would I part with it now?”

  “Because you are in immediate danger of being captured by the SS,” he said. “I’m only concerned for you, my dear, and the package you carry. It must be preserved at all costs. Surely you can see that.”

  “Surely you can see what a ridiculous conversation this is,” she retorted irritably.

  Jens glanced at her and frowned.

  “I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” he said, looking at Asp. “She doesn’t have this package. You said yourself that a courier would have passed it on long before now. It would be insane to carry something like that out of Belgium in the midst of an invasion.”

  “Would it? Would it be better to leave it in Belgium and risk it finding its way back into German hands?” Asp countered. “Open your eyes, man. She has it. She hasn’t had the chance to pass it on to anyone. I’ll tell you what,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “I’ll give you one thousand francs in exchange for the package.”

  “A thousand francs!” Jens exclaimed, shocked. “Are you mad?”

  “I’m concerned that the information she carries will fall into the wrong hands,” Asp replied sharply. “I’m willing to pay to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

  Both men missed the flash of pure fury in blue eyes before them.

  “You can keep your money,” Evelyn said, her voice deadly and quiet. “I neither need nor want it. Even if I did have the package you’re talking about, I wouldn’t take your money in exchange for it even if I had a gun held to head by Himmler himself.”

  The amiable look disappeared from Asp’s face with her words and his lips thinned.

  “I can assure you that if Himmler was holding a gun to your head, you wouldn’t be so quick with your words,” he snapped. “I think you do have the package, and I think you have it with you now. You would never leave it in a suitcase or in a car. It’s far too valuable. What’s to stop me from taking it from you?”

  Jens blustered angrily, but Asp ignored him, his eyes on Evelyn’s face. He took a step towards her, his mouth twisted into something resembling a snarl.

  “You’ve been very clever to carry it all this way, even in the teeth of the German advance into Belgium, but you won’t carry it any further. That package will not leave this room.”

  The room was filled with complete silence for a charged second as Evelyn and Asp stared at each other, both filled with anger, and resolve. Jens stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with alarm, watching Asp in apprehension. For that one suspended second in time, no one moved.

  And then Asp lunged for Evelyn.

  Evelyn saw him move and, instead of backing away, stepped forward to meet him, her left hand swinging up to block the hand reaching for her. While she blocked with her left, her right hand sliced upwards towards his neck. Before he had any idea what was happening, the side of her hand slammed into his throat, crushing his esophagus, at the same time that her left hand twisted and grabbed his wrist. Within seconds, Asp was on his knees before her, his right arm twisted around behind him at an impossible angle, choking from the blow to his throat.

  Before she could raise her right hand again and deliver a blow to his temple, Jens suddenly lurched into action. With a roar, he lunged towards them and Evelyn looked up, startled, as he flew towards her. Before she could stop him, he pushed her violently away from Asp, forcing her to release the hold she had on his arm. She stumbled backwards, gasping and trying to catch herself, just as a flash of steel appeared in Asp’s left hand.

  Asp jumped to his feet, a revolver in his hand, and spun around to find Evelyn. He found himself facing Jens instead and snarled, raising the revolver. Jens knocked it out of his hand with a cry and the gun skidded across the floor, coming to a stop near Evelyn’s feet. She ignored it, her eyes locked on the two men. With his gun gone, Asp resorted to his hands and grabbed for Jens’ throat. The struggle that ensued was as brief as it was intense, with Jens trying to pry strong fingers away from his neck. Gasping for air, he stopped pulling at Asp’s wrists and punched him in the throat, right where Evelyn had stuck him seconds before. Asp gagged and his hands fell away from Jens’ throat as he tried to suck in air through his damaged wind pipe. Before he could recover, Jens shoved him away from him, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Staggering, Asp lost his balance and fell backwards. A sickening crack filled the room as his head smashed into the corner of the stone mantel above the hearth. Before either Jens or Evelyn could react, he fell sideways towards the stand of hand irons sitting near the hearth. She watched in horror as his head hit the stand, then swiftly covered her face with her hands and turned away as the poker went through his neck.

  She heard the final thud as his body came to rest before the empty stone hearth and lowered her trembling hands, taking a ragged, deep breath. Nausea rolled over her, clenching her throat, and making her double over. Then, forcing the bile threatening in the back of her throat back down, she took another deep breath, and another, until she was able to slowly straighten up again.

  “Is he...” she whispered, not turning around to look.

  “Dead.” Jens’ voice was hoarse and strained. “Oh God. He’s dead!”

  London, England

  Henry poured himself a drink and carried it over to his favorite arm chair near the fireplace. In the winter months, there would be a hearty fire roaring in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. Spring had truly settled into England, however, and there was no need for the warmth from a fire, so the hearth stood empty. Settling into the leather chair, Henry’s eyes flicked to the dark fireplace. He missed the fire, but readily admitted that there was no point in burning one just for the aesthetics of it.

  He sipped his whiskey and soda and leaned his head back, exhaling in contentment. It had been a good day. The Panzers had made it through the Ardennes in record time and had rolled into Sedan to find not one French soldier in sight. They would now construct the bridgeheads to cross the Meuse, and be in France in no time at all. Everything was going according to plan, according to his contact in Zurich. England was about to see just how powerful the Third Reich had become.

  In addition to that news, he had also received a very satisfactory message from his handler. He had been worried about that, if the truth were known. After visiting Ainsworth Manor and discovering one of Bill’s men installed as a guard, he had had no choice but to send a message to Berlin, advising them of the situation. Rather than admit his own failure, he had simply explained that he believed the plans to be lost. He pointed out that while he hadn’t been able to locate them, neither had the British. They had a man placed in Robert’s main residence, undoubtedly to watch to see if they would surface
. It only made sense that if the missing plans were there, they would have surfaced by now. Yet they hadn’t. He finished by respectfully suggesting that they accept that the package may be buried forever. The only man who knew its location had taken that knowledge with him to the afterlife.

  Henry really hadn’t been expecting a favorable response. In fact, he was fully expecting the opposite. Instead, he received a message this evening through an unusual avenue. He had been instructed to go to a restaurant in a shabby area of London. There he had been handed a thick envelope. Inside was a rather lengthy response to his message, and five hundred pounds. Amazing, that. Instead of being chastised, he was given money. Completely unnecessary, of course, but he would take it without question. An extra five hundred pounds in cash could always come in handy.

  Setting his drink on the table beside his chair, Henry reached into his pocket to pull out the letter. Re-reading it, a faint smile curved his lips. They admitted that the plans might very well be gone for good, but they weren’t convinced that they might not still surface. However, given the advance into Belgium and Holland, and the speed with which their men were making their way into France, they instructed him to leave the question of the missing plans for now. Instead, they wanted all information he could find regarding all the Allied agents in France, both English and French networks, as well as all the known meeting points. As their forces made their way through France, the SS would find it useful to know where potential threats were in order to ensure they did not interfere with the complete and utter victory of the Third Reich over France.

  And so he had received a reprieve. Henry folded up the letter and laid it on the table, picking up his drink again. At least for the time being, Berlin was content to set the question of the missing documents aside and allow him to focus on easier, more pressing matters.

  Sipping his drink, Henry couldn’t stop a smile of satisfaction from settling on his face. He had obviously proven his worth to the men in Berlin. It wouldn’t be long now before he was recognized and rewarded for his work in London. Once the BEF and French army were crushed in France, there would be nothing to prevent Hitler from moving into France and England. Germany would become the largest world power next to the United States. When that happened, his efforts on their behalf would be rewarded and his place in the Third Reich would be assured.

  But first, he had to gather all the information he could on the new fledgling networks in France and Belgium. And he knew just where to begin.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Evelyn heard the words, but somehow her brain refused to process them.

  “Are you sure?” she demanded. “Maybe he’s just unconscious.”

  “The fireplace poker went clean through his neck,” Jens said, his voice strangled. “There’s blood everywhere. If he wasn’t dead after his head hit the mantel, he is now.”

  “Well, check his pulse!”

  “What? He’s covered in blood!”

  “We have to know for sure! We can’t just leave him there if he’s not dead. We have to get help!” She heard Jens move towards the fireplace, and then there was silence. “Well?” she finally demanded.

  “He’s dead.” Jens sounded calmer now, even if his voice wasn’t quite steady. “What do we do?”

  “What do you mean? How should I know?”

  “Well I’ve never killed a man before!” Jens exclaimed. “I’ve never even seen a dead body before!”

  “Neither have I!” she shot back, her voice sounding high pitched even to her own ears.

  They were both silent for a moment, then she exhaled loudly, still refusing to turn and look.

  “What can we do?” she asked, trying to think. “It’s not as if we can bring him back to life. We’ll have to leave and pretend that nothing happened.”

  “But there’s a dead body! And blood!” Panic was edging back into his voice and Evelyn nodded.

  “All right, all right,” she said soothingly. “Let me think.”

  “Aren’t you going to turn around?” Jens asked after a second.

  “Not until you cover him up.”

  Jens hesitated, then sighed. “I suppose I can understand that,” he said. “What can I use? I don’t want to use my coat.”

  “No! We can’t leave anything behind!” Evelyn looked around, careful not to look in the direction of the fireplace. “There! Use that blanket on the back of the couch.”

  Jens crossed the room to pick up a woolen blanket from where it was draped over the back of the couch. As he passed her, he looked into her face and paused.

  “It’s all right,” he said, trying to reassure her. “I’ll cover him up.”

  Evelyn nodded, realized that she was shaking, and wrapped her arms around herself to try to stop the trembling. A moment later, Jens cleared his throat.

  “It’s safe now.”

  Evelyn slowly turned around. Jens had covered the body with the blanket, but blood was spreading in a pool out from under it. With a shudder, she looked away and her eyes fell onto the rug before the window. She stared at it for a minute, and then her trembling stopped and numbness stole through her. She suddenly knew what they had to do.

  She went over to the rug swiftly and tossed it out of the way, opening the hidden compartment in the floor. She looked up to find Jens watching her speechlessly.

  “Toss me that bag hanging by the door,” she commanded, pointing to a dark canvas shoulder bag.

  Jens looked to where she was pointing and went over to get the bag. He brought it back to her with a bemused look on his face.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We can’t leave all this here,” she said, pulling out the leather roll Jens had given Asp. Beneath it were two packets of papers tied with string, and several stacks of money. “We’re taking it with us.”

  “There must be twenty thousand francs there!” Jens gasped, staring at the stacks of bills. “We can’t take that!”

  “It’s money he got from selling out his countrymen,” Evelyn said coldly. “We can, and we will. We’ll give it to people who can use it.”

  “I could use it,” Jens muttered. “I only brought what I had in cash in my apartment.”

  She looked at him and nodded. “Then you will have it,” she said. “But we’re certainly not leaving it here for the Germans to take.”

  She finished cleaning out the hidden compartment and put the floor board back before replacing the rug. Jens watched her and took the bag she handed him as she passed on her way to a desk on the far wall.

  “You are that woman who took the stolen plans from Antwerp, aren’t you?” he asked, watching as she began to open the desk drawers, going through them. “You’re the courier.

  Evelyn glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not a courier.”

  “Then who are you?” Jens walked over to stand beside the desk. “What are you?”

  She paused and looked up at him, then sighed and straightened up.

  “Everything Asp said was true,” she admitted. “I did meet with a Dutch agent in Antwerp and he did give me a package. I work for the British Secret Service, MI6. I’m an agent. I was sent to Belgium to retrieve the package and take it back to London.”

  Jens swallowed and nodded slowly.

  “I suppose I should have realized you weren’t a secretary when we ran into Josephine. That’s how you two know each other?”

  “We met in Strasbourg just before the war. I was a courier then. She helped me escape from an SS officer.” Evelyn turned back to the desk and continued going through the drawers quickly. “It seems we both kept a secret from each other.”

  Jens watched her, still clearly trying to process everything that had happened in the past half hour.

  “Do you think Asp was telling the truth about the SS coming after you?” he asked suddenly.

  “Yes.” She glanced up at him. “Marcel told me before we left his house. Josephine told him who I was in the letter she wrote, and he warned me that an SS agent was looking for a
woman who had been in Antwerp to pick up a package.”

  Jens stared. “And you came here tonight with me, knowing that Asp was in league with the Germans, and knowing that he might lead them to you?”

  “Well, I came knowing that there was a risk,” she replied. “I didn’t think it would play out quite the way it did, I’ll admit, but yes.”

  “That’s my fault, isn’t it? If I hadn’t slipped and said Marie, he would never have known.” Jens ran his hand through his hair and looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry.”

  Evelyn nodded and finished going through the last drawer.

  “It’s over now. We’ll consider it a lesson learned.” She straightened up. “There’s nothing else here. Let’s go. We need to get moving.”

  “What about him?” Jens asked, looking towards the fireplace. “We’re just going to leave him there?”

  Evelyn hesitated, blanching, then nodded, turning towards the door.

  “We can’t call a doctor; it wouldn’t do any good. And we certainly can’t call the police.”

  “It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”

  She paused and glanced back at the body covered with the blanket, a wave of horror going over her.

  “I know,” she agreed softly. Then she looked up at him. “It was an accident. He was going to choke you, and he tried to shoot me! It was self-defense.”

  He swallowed. “It doesn’t make it any better.”

  “No, but it’s the truth.” Evelyn turned to the door. “Come on. We need to get out of here. We’ll go out the side door and take the alley to the next street. That way no one will see us leaving.”

  They went down the hallway quickly to the door they had entered less than an hour before and, a moment later, were in the narrow alley between the houses. Jens closed the door behind them and they turned to walk away from the house.

  “If you work for MI6, I could have just given the decoded messages to you,” he said in a low voice. “Then we could have avoided all of this.”

  She looked at him sheepishly. “I know. It wasn’t until you told Marcel what was in the messages that I realized I could have saved us this entire trip if I’d told you who I was.”