The Oslo Affair

by CW Browning

  Also by CW Browning

  Kai Corbyn Series

  Games of Deceit (Coming Soon)

  Shadows of War

  The Courier

  The Oslo Affair

  Night Falls on Norway

  The Exit Series

  Next Exit, Three Miles

  Next Exit, Pay Toll

  Next Exit, Dead Ahead

  Next Exit, Quarter Mile

  Next Exit, Use Caution

  Next Exit, One Way

  Next Exit, No Outlet

  The Exit Series Box Set #1: Books 1-3

  Watch for more at CW Browning’s site.

  The Oslo Affair

  CW Browning

  About The Oslo Affair

  As Europe reels from the Nazi’s defeat of Poland, a young woman is thrust into war – and into the crosshairs of a Soviet agent.

  Evelyn Ainsworth is just coming to terms with the sudden death of her father when an unexpected meeting in London exposes family secrets, changing everything she thought she knew. Faced with the task of traveling to Oslo to meet with a double agent, it’s time for the new MI6 agent to show her worth. But nothing can prepare her for what awaits her in the streets of Norway.

  Caught between a ruthless SS agent and the Soviet NKVD, Evelyn races to stay one step ahead of an enemy who seems to know her every move. And as she navigates through the complex web of the intelligence underworld, one thing becomes alarmingly clear: the war is just beginning.

  And someone is determined to keep her out of it.

  Author’s Note:

  Throughout the fall of 1939, England and France were in the midst of what is known as the Phony War. After advancing through Poland in four weeks, the German and Soviet forces had stopped, victorious. Many believed that they would not go any further and that their objectives had been completed. The Phony War only served to reinforce that belief.

  Others, however, knew that Hitler would not stop now. Training and rearmament became a priority, as did the need for information. While the rest of the world watched and waited, England and France reluctantly mobilized their forces, all the while hoping that further bloodshed could be averted.

  Table of Contents

  The Oslo Affair

  Author’s Note:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Author’s Notes

  About the Author

  Note from Author:

  “It is evil things we shall be fighting against, brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution.”

  ~ Neville Chamberlain, 1939

  Prologue

  Bern, Switzerland

  September 21, 1939

  The door to the hotel swung open and a tall, lean man entered, glancing around the busy lobby as he shook off the rain. The sun was just sinking outside, casting light shadows over the city as patrons came and went through the ornately crafted entrance. After studying the people around him for a moment, the man turned to stride towards the counter. As he approached, the manager looked up and a smile crossed his face as he moved to the end of the counter to greet him.

  “Welcome back, Herr Lyakhov! It’s been a long time!”

  “Thank you, Herr Denzler. It’s nice to be back.” Vladimir Lyakhov set his traveling case down by his feet. “I see it’s very busy this evening.”

  “It’s that time of year.” Herr Denzler pulled a pad of check-in cards from beneath the counter, turning it so that Vladimir could fill one out. “How long will you be staying with us?”

  “I’m here only for the weekend,” Vladimir said, picking up the offered pen and scrawling his name onto the card. “I’m meeting an old friend while I’m here. Can you tell me if he’s checked in yet?”

  “Yes, of course. What’s his name?”

  Vladimir finished filling out the card and set the pen down, looking up. “Robert Ainsworth.”

  The manager frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen Herr Ainsworth recently,” he said. “However, let me check. He may have come in earlier. Just a moment.”

  Vladimir nodded and watched as Herr Denzler moved away to the far end of the counter where he proceeded to flip through a catalog of cards identical to the one Vladimir had just filled out. While he waited, he turned and scanned the faces in the lobby once again.

  “I’m afraid Herr Ainsworth has not checked in yet.” Herr Denzler was back, shaking his head apologetically. “Would you like me to inform you when he arrives?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Vladimir turned back with a smile. “I only have a limited amount of time this trip and it would be disappointing to miss him.”

  “I understand.” Herr Denzler turned to retrieve a room key. “I’ll send a messenger up as soon as he arrives. Here is your room key. You’re on the third floor. Do you need assistance with your bags?”

  “No, that’s quite all right. I’ve only got one.” He took the key with a nod. “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your stay, Herr Lyakhov.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  Vladimir picked up his bag and turned away from the desk, moving towards the caged lift at the back of the lobby. He moved past a group of chattering young people and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes searching out the man in the black overcoat whom he’d noticed when he first entered the hotel. The man was still in the corner near the door, watching everyone who entered the hotel. As he looked back, the man turned his head towards him, his expression inscrutable. Vladimir’s lips tightened faintly and he turned his head, continuing to the lift.

  The sooner Robert arrived, the better for everyone. Vladimir had known he was being watched as soon as he got off the train. There was nothing new in that. But that man...he was different. He didn’t work for the NKVD. He had the stamp of the German SD all over him.

  And if the Germans were here, things were about to get ugly.

  Chapter One

  Lancashire, England

  October 4, 1939

  Evelyn Ainsworth stood before the grave as the last rites and prayers were read over the coffin of her father, Robert Ainsworth II. Her mother stood beside her, gripping a handkerchief in one hand and a rose in the other. Her shoulders were rigid, and Evelyn knew it was taking everything she had to stand there calmly while they buried her husband. At least the ordeal was almost over. The vicar would be finished soon, and then they could start the long walk back to the house.

  Evelyn hated funerals. She always had. They were an ostentatious tradition, spread over death to disguise the gruesome fact that a body was now going to rot into ashes and mingle with the earth. They were preformed to comfort the grieving family and friends, and make them believe that their loved ones weren’t really decaying, but were somewhere else. Somewhere better. They were a chan
ce for people to say goodbye, but as far as she was concerned, there was no one to say goodbye to. The deceased was already gone, and Evelyn could never quite reconcile herself to the fact that a funeral was, at its core, nothing more than a facade.

  Turning her attention back to the large coffin before them, Evelyn swallowed with difficulty. She still couldn’t believe he was gone. She’d had dinner with him in London just before he left for that fateful trip to Poland. He had been leaving the next day for Warsaw, and even though Evelyn urged him to be careful, he had laughed and told her not to worry so much. That was at the end of August. It was a week later that the German army invaded Poland. For days, they were frantic for news of him. Finally, her mother received a telegram from Zürich: he was safe and on his way to Bern. He would be home shortly.

  That was the last telegram he sent. He arrived at the Bellevue Palace Hotel in Bern, where he passed away in the night. They were told it was a heart attack, likely brought on by the stress of fleeing Poland ahead of the German forces.

  When she received the news at her training post in Scotland, Evelyn had thought there must be some mistake. It was only the second telegram from London that convinced her the report was real. William Buckley, a family friend and close associate of her father, had sent it to confirm the news. In the past year working with Bill, she had never known him to be wrong. And this was no exception. He’d arranged for compassionate leave and transportation back to Lancashire for her immediately.

  Evelyn glanced over her shoulder to where he stood now with his wife, Marguerite. Marguerite had been a god-send to her mother over the past few days. A Frenchwoman herself, she had been a great companion and comfort to Madeleine Ainsworth while she waited for her children to make it home from their respective postings. For that alone, Evelyn would always be grateful to the Buckleys.

  Her brother Rob stood on her mother’s other side, tall and immaculate in his RAF uniform. He’d arrived home yesterday, a few hours before her, and had gone to meet her at the station. The joy of seeing him for the first time in months was tempered by their sorrow. Now, looking at his profile, Evelyn swallowed again. This was just as hard for him as it was for her. His squadron had been training heavily since the summer, even before the outbreak of war, and he’d only been able to make it home to see their father a handful of times.

  Now he was gone.

  The vicar finished his prayers and stepped back, drawing her attention back to the proceedings before her. Four men stepped forward to lower the casket into the ground, and Evelyn took a deep, ragged breath. It was almost over.

  A soft sob escaped from her mother as they struggled to lower the coffin, and Evelyn put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. She met her brother’s gaze over her head and smiled reassuringly. He looked concerned. Rob had never done well with tears, especially where his mother and sister were concerned. She turned her eyes back to the casket descending into the ground. Luckily for him, her mother was as determined not to make a scene as she was herself. Their tears would be reserved for when they were out of sight and alone.

  A large crowd had gathered to say their final farewells to Robert Ainsworth. Many of them she didn’t recognize, most likely associates from London who had worked with him in the Foreign Diplomatic Office. Several were neighbors and villagers who had known the family for decades. As Evelyn looked around the gathering, she sighed inwardly. It would be ages before they could politely leave and get back to the house.

  As the men stepped away from the grave, the vicar motioned to her mother. She stepped forward, bowed her head briefly, then straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin resolutely as she kissed the bud of the rose in her hand before dropping it into the open grave. Rob glanced at her and Evelyn sighed, following her mother to drop her own flower into the grave. Standing before the gaping hole and seeing the shiny casket in its final resting place was almost too much for her, and hot tears pricked the back of her eyelids.

  Blinking them away quickly, Evelyn reached up to touch the garnet necklace hanging around her neck. Her father had brought it back from Prague last year. As soon as her fingers touched the warm stones, she calmed, taking a deep breath. She reached out her other hand and dropped her rose into the opening, turning away from the grave quickly. Her eyes caught Rob’s as he came up behind her and she swallowed again. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently in support as she paused and their eyes met.

  “It’s almost over,” he whispered.

  She nodded, smiling tremulously, and turned to follow their mother. He was right. It was almost over. She could make it.

  Evelyn looked up as yet another stranger approached her, intent on expressing their condolences. She felt as if the smile on her face was permanently fixed into place, and she held out her hand automatically as the man stopped before her. Instead of taking her hand, he pressed something into it. Looking down in surprise, she found herself holding a business card.

  “Miss Ainsworth, I’m very sorry for your loss,” the man said. His voice was deep and low. “My name is Jasper Montclair and I was an associate of your fathers. He spoke often of you.”

  Evelyn looked at him more closely. Jasper wasn’t a tall man, but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in charisma. His eyebrows were thick and dark, but his eyes were what really caught her attention. They were sharp and bright, giving the impression that he rarely missed anything.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the card in her hand.

  “I know this is a very difficult time for you and your family, but I would very much like to speak with you. I understand from William Buckley that you are stationed in Scotland?”

  “Yes. I’m in the WAAFs.”

  “I know you’ve only been given a limited amount of leave,” Jasper continued. “I’m terribly sorry to intrude on you at such a time, but it really is quite urgent. Can you come to London tomorrow? The address is on the card.”

  “Go to London?” Evelyn repeated, staring at him. “What on earth for?”

  “I know it’s very inconvenient, and believe me when I say that I would not ask it if it weren’t of the utmost importance.” Jasper smiled apologetically. “Buckley will vouch for me.”

  Evelyn frowned and looked more closely at the card in her hand. The address was in London, but it wasn’t one she recognized. The crest on the card, however, she did recognize and she looked up, startled.

  “Are you—” she began but he cut her off.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked, the smile still on his face. “Shall we say one o’clock?”

  “I suppose so, if I must,” Evelyn said in bemusement, slipping the card into her small clutch purse.

  “I’d be very grateful,” he said, holding out his hand. “Again, my sincerest condolence. Your father was an amazing man.”

  Evelyn shook his hand and nodded, then he moved away, mingling back into the crowds. Her brows came together in consternation, but the look disappeared as Rob joined her.

  “If I have to hear that someone is sorry for my loss one more time, I think I’ll do something altogether shocking,” he announced, slipping his arm through hers and turning her towards the lane that ran past the churchyard. “Come on. Let’s start off home.”

  “What about Mum?” Evelyn looked around. “Where is she?”

  “Mrs. Buckley is collecting her; they’ll be along directly. I think we’ve all had enough.” He glanced down at her. “Who was that man just now?”

  “Someone who worked with Dad, I think.”

  “Didn’t he introduce himself?”

  “Yes. His name is—”

  “Jasper Montclair.” A new voice spoke behind them. They turned and William Buckley smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  Evelyn smiled and held out her hand to him.

  “You can eavesdrop all you like, Bill,” she said warmly. “I appreciate everything you and Marguerite have done
.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Rob added, shaking his hand when Evelyn had finished. “I understand you’ve been a great help to my mother through all of this.”

  “It’s the least we can do,” Bill said, falling into step beside them. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with Jasper, Evelyn.”

  “I’m not. I’ve just met him. He says he was an associate of Dad’s.”

  “In a way, I suppose he was,” Bill said obscurely.

  “He wants me to go to London tomorrow,” Evelyn said after a moment. “He wants to meet with me. Do you have any idea why?”

  Bill looked at her, clearly surprised. “To London?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’d better go,” he said bluntly, shooting her a sharp look. “It’s not often that Montclair requests a meeting.”

  Evelyn caught his sharp glance and nodded imperceptibly. If Bill said she was to go, she supposed she was going to London tomorrow.

  “Why would he want to meet with Evie?” Rob demanded with a frown.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Bill said reassuringly. “More than likely, he just wants to make sure that you both know you have allies in London should you ever need them. It’s our way of taking care of our own, you see.”

  Rob continued to frown. “I don’t see, but if you vouch for him, I don’t suppose I can say anything to stop it.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Evelyn said with a quick smile. “I’ll take the train down in the morning and be back after dinner.”

  “William!” a voice called from behind them. “Come tell Madeleine about when you and Robert got stranded in Marseilles!”

  Bill grinned apologetically and turned to join his wife and Madeleine, walking quite a way behind. Evelyn tucked her arm through her brothers again as they walked along the lane.

  “I think I want to know what happened when they got stranded in Marseilles,” she said. “Can you imagine Dad stranded anywhere?”