by CW Browning
Stepping into the road and out from under the light of a street lamp, she glanced behind her and her heart thumped. He was still there. She could barely make him out. He was walking close to the buildings, partially concealed by their dark shadow, but he was definitely still there. And he was gaining ground.
Turning her head, she increased her pace even more and jogged across the side street, gaining the other side in seconds. Her fingers closed around the key in her pocket and she gripped it firmly, ready to pull it out and open the door of the boarding house as soon as she reached it. Only a few more feet.
A loud bang shattered the stillness of the night and Evelyn jumped, her heart surging into her throat. The sound was almost deafening, like a gun shot, and she whirled around, her eyes wide and her chest pounding. An older model car had rattled up the side street she’d just crossed and, as she watched, a lesser bang exploded from its tail pipe.
Gasping, she turned and threw caution to the wind, running the last few steps to the door of the boarding house. Pulling the key from her pocket, her hand trembled as she tried to get it into the latch. On the second try, it slid in and she turned to look over her shoulder. The man was at the corner, staring directly at her.
Evelyn pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it and throwing the bolt with shaking fingers. She moved away from the door and was halfway up the dark stairs before her knees began to shake uncontrollably. Sinking to sit on a step in the shadows, she leaned against the wall and stared at the front door below. There was no sound from the street beyond and no banging on the door to demand entrance. She was in, and she was safe.
For now.
Who was he? And why was he following her? Was it Vladimir? But if so, why not simply approach her? Was it someone from the hotel? Her head snapped up and she stared at the door again, her breath shallow and fast. Was it the Gestapo again? Just because Daniel Carew didn’t think they were in Oslo didn’t mean that they weren’t. She knew first-hand just how freely they moved around outside of their Fatherland.
God, please don’t let it be them again, she thought with a near groan.
After sitting for another moment, Evelyn forced her shaking legs to push her up and she gripped the railing as she made her way up the rest of the stairs. It had been so close! When she looked back at the door, he was only a few feet away. If she had fumbled any longer with the key, he would have been beside her. And if that car hadn’t backfired, she wouldn’t have run the last few feet.
Fear streaked down her spine again as she moved quietly down the hallway towards her room. In Scotland, they had tried to train them on how to react if they were in danger, but there was no way to prepare anyone for the sudden onslaught of adrenaline and pure fear that had crashed over her in the street. She was being followed in a strange city, with a foreign language that she didn’t speak, on unfamiliar streets at night. Of course she was terrified! She’d be a fool not to be.
She unlocked her door and went in, relocking it quickly behind her. A cheerful fire burned low in the hearth, casting a welcoming glow over the room, and Evelyn went over to stand before it, holding her hands out to its warmth. She didn’t remove her coat, but stood and let the warmth of the flames comfort her. Staring down into the fire, Evelyn took a deep breath and tried to think clearly.
Who was he? And what did he want with her? She hadn’t done anything yet that would arouse suspicion in anyone, even a nefarious Gestapo agent. All she did was go to dinner and then have drinks with two men who were sitting at the table next to her. Hardly the stuff of spies.
After a long moment, she turned away and removed her coat, carrying it over to the wardrobe. Now that she was warm and safe, she had to take the time to think, to evaluate the situation. She had panicked in the street. That couldn’t happen again. If she didn’t find a way to keep her wits about her when things went wrong, she wasn’t going to make it very far at all in this war.
Evelyn pressed her lips together and went over to sink into the chair near the fire. Raising shaking hands to her face, she massaged her temples and forced herself to relax. What could she have done differently? Her hands fell away from her head and she sat back tiredly.
I could have noticed him sooner, for starters, she thought disgustedly. Instead of daydreaming about a pair of green eyes back in England, she should have been paying attention to her surroundings. That was lesson number one. When she was in enemy territory, and they had been very clear that she would go across enemy lines, a mistake like tonight would get her killed. She had to be aware of her surroundings and who was in them at all times, even when thoughts of Miles Lacey intruded as they had tonight.
Evelyn stretched her feet towards the fire and leaned her head back. She would have to be more careful going forward. Just because this was a friendly city didn’t mean that it was safe. Daniel had made it seem as if it was just like London, but it wasn’t. Tonight had illustrated that very clearly. There were obviously people moving in the shadows just like her, and they wanted information as well. How someone had discovered her already she had no idea, but obviously someone had. Clearly she had to be much more alert, and much more careful.
Or she wouldn’t last the week.
London, England
Jasper looked up as a shadow fell across his table. He was seated at his usual table in the Grill at the Savoy at the height of the lunch rush. Everyone knew not to intrude upon his hour of solitude, and his eyebrows crooked in surprise at the sight of William Buckley standing next to his table.
“Bill!” he exclaimed, setting down his knife and fork. “What are you doing here? I thought you had gone back to Paris with Marguerite.”
“She left this morning and I’ll follow tomorrow,” Bill replied, motioning to a chair at the table questioningly.
“Please do.” Jasper waved to the seat and picked up his knife and fork. “Have you eaten?”
“Actually, no. I just came from Waterloo Station.” Bill seated himself with a sigh. “I was called into the War Cabinet to give a report, for all the good it will do.”
He couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his tone and Jasper shot him a sharp look.
“France?”
“Among other things.” An attentive waiter came to the table and Bill nodded to him in greeting, taking the proffered menu. “Are you sure you don’t mind my joining you? I know you’re protective of your lunch break.”
“That doesn’t extend to you,” Jasper assured him, guiding a forkful of potatoes to his mouth. “You don’t inundate me with meaningless drivel. When is your meeting?”
“In an hour. I came for a quick bite before going in.” Bill set the menu aside after a cursory glance. “I’m not sure why I was called, to be honest. They never listen to a word I say.”
“I know why.” Jasper looked at him. “Chamberlain is under tremendous pressure over how he’s responding to this war. The Commons are demanding action at the same time that the Lords are demanding caution. He’s caught in rather uncomfortable situation.”
“Of his own making,” Bill pointed out, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I understand the difficulty, but I can’t help but think that what we need now is to take a strong and decisive stand against Hitler.”
Jasper made a sound close to a snort. “You’ve been listening to Churchill.”
“The man makes a point.” The waiter returned and Bill ordered his lunch of poached fish and potatoes. Once the man had retreated, he looked at Jasper. “I know you’re close with Winston. Don’t try to tell me that he’s not one of the few who are taking this war seriously.”
Jasper shook his head. “On the contrary,” he said. “I think he speaks a lot of wisdom. I also think he speaks with a lot of heart, and that is something we can do without. However, regardless of my own thoughts on the subject, this country needs a leader. And we don’t have one.”
“On that, at least, we can agree.” Bill nodded in thanks as a pint of ale was set beside him. He waiting until the wai
ter had disappeared again, then looked at Jasper. “Can we speak frankly, Jasper?”
“You know I’ll always speak frankly, Bill, even to the detriment of my political well-being. What’s on your mind?”
“I’ve received a message from the embassy in Oslo,” he said, lowering his voice. “There seems to be a slight issue.”
Jasper looked up from his meal sharply, his eyes narrowing.
“What kind of issue?” he demanded.
“The kind that exposes agents,” Bill said grimly. “I think Jian may have been compromised.”
“In what way?”
“She was followed last night. Now, it could be nothing. Daniel Carew seems to think she’s overreacting and that it is nothing. Simply another pedestrian out on the streets late at night.”
“And you? What do you think?”
“I’ve known her for most of her life, and have worked with her for well over a year now. I’d be very surprised if she’s overreacting. I’ve never known her to do so before. In fact, quite the opposite.”
Jasper considered him for a long moment, then carefully set down his utensils.
“Go on.”
“There’s no way she could have compromised herself already. She arrived late in the afternoon and didn’t leave the boarding house. The next morning, she went to the embassy and met with Carew before going straight back to the house. She stayed there until evening, when she went to the Hotel Bristol with one of our interpreters where she engaged in making contact with a German scientist who was also dining there. She was followed leaving the hotel.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. As you can see, she could hardly have been more careful.”
Jasper studied him for a long, silent moment.
“You have a lot more to say, Buckley. Just spit it out, will you?”
Bill sipped his ale and raised somber eyes to the man across the table.
“If I didn’t know the agent as well as I do, I’d probably agree with Carew and say it was nerves on her first assignment and there was nothing there. But I do know her, and I know that unsteady nerves have never been one of her faults. She faced down two Security Service agents in Strasbourg without blinking. She does not overreact.”
Jasper sat back in his chair slowly, his eyes never leaving Bill’s face.
“You think someone leaked her location overseas,” he stated rather than asked.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Jasper exhaled, shaking his head.
“You realize what you’re saying?” he demanded, his voice low. “The number of people who know our agents’ identities is so limited that what you’re suggesting is—”
“Someone in London is passing information on,” Bill finished calmly, reaching for his pint again. “Yes. That’s precisely what I’m suggesting.”
Jasper was silent for a long time before he reached for the whiskey and soda near his plate.
“You realize that’s damn near impossible?” he finally asked.
“Unlikely, but far from impossible,” Bill corrected him.
“Impossible,” Jasper repeated with more force. “Damn it, man, we’ve rounded up all the German agents in London. You know this! They were all interned within a month of war being declared, with the exception of one, who is working with us.”
“I realize that.”
Jasper stared at him, his face grim. “You’d better think very carefully about what you say next,” he warned softly.
Bill made a face and opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly as the waiter came into view carrying a tray with his lunch. An uneasy silence fell over the table as the two men waited for the food to be placed before Bill.
“Put your hackles down, Jasper,” Bill said as soon as the waiter had gone. “There are other possibilities besides a mole in Whitehall, although I think it would be a gross misjudgment on our part to dismiss that out of hand.”
“What other possibilities?” he asked, ignoring the latter part of the statement.
Bill picked up his knife and fork and began to cut into his fish.
“Have you forgotten why Jian was sent to Oslo in the first place?” he asked, glancing up. “It wasn’t to meet with German scientists.”
Jasper’s lips tightened.
“You think there are Soviet agents in London?”
“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. MI6 went after known German sympathizers and uncovered cells of German agents throughout London. What about the Soviets?”
“We haven’t found any indication that—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Bill cut him off hastily. “I know the facts. All I’m saying is that someone knows we have an agent in Oslo, and they know exactly who it is. That information came from somewhere, and I’m willing to stake my career that it wasn’t from something Jian did herself.”
“And if it wasn’t, then we have a bigger problem on our hands,” Jasper finished for him.
Bill was silent and Jasper exhaled again, pushing his half-eaten lunch away.
“You have one hell of a way of disrupting a perfect good afternoon, Bill.” He rubbed his forehead and reached for his drink again. “What do you suggest? Pull her back?”
“Absolutely not. Shustov won’t meet with anyone else. Besides, she wouldn’t come.”
“What makes you say that? If she’s ordered back...”
“She made it clear in the message Carew forwarded this morning.” Bill looked up from his lunch and something close to a grin was on his lips. “She says she has the situation under control.”
“Under control? What does that mean?”
“It means she has a plan. And I can say with some confidence that that plan does not include coming back just yet.”
Oslo, Norway
The bell above the door jingled as the man went into the tobacconist’s shop and the owner looked up from where he was helping another gentleman, nodding with a smile.
“I’ll be right with you, sir.”
The man nodded back and went over to stand near the counter, picking up a newspaper. He flipped through it while he waited, looking up occasionally to glance out the store front window. It was early, and he was wasting some time before going to the embassy. The English agent hadn’t left the boarding house this morning and, after waiting for over an hour, he determined that she wasn’t going to. At least, not before he had to go in and give his report. He had left his post across the street from the house, confident in the knowledge that he would catch up with her later in the day.
The shop owner finished up with his customer and turned to the man. “And what can I get for you today?” he asked cheerfully.
“I’d like a can of the original blend,” the man said, moving over to the counter and setting the paper down. “And the newspaper, please.”
“Of course.” The shop owner turned to pull down a can of tobacco from a shelf behind the counter. “It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. Very nice.”
The owner rang up the tobacco and reached under the counter to pull something out.
“I think you’ll enjoy this,” he said, putting the can into a bag and taking the money the man held out. “It’s a particularly smooth blend.”
“Yes. I’ve had it before.”
The shop owner made change, passing it back along with an additional slip of paper.
“Enjoy your day.”
The man palmed the paper and change and turned away from the counter with a nod. A moment later, the bell jingled again and he stepped out into the sunshine. After glancing to his left, he turned and walked to his right along the street until he reached the top where it intersected with Drammensveien. Turning left, he started down the road, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out the slip of paper. He unfolded it and scanned the message inside, pausing next to a trashcan on the pavement. After reading the message, he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it into the can before continuing down the street.
>
He never once looked back. A moment later, a few yards behind him, a woman reached into the trashcan as she passed, plucking the crumpled paper out and shoving it into her coat pocket without breaking stride.
The man continued down the long road, oblivious to what had happened behind him, his stride steady. The sun shone brightly over the city and the temperature was surprisingly mild for November in Norway. He took a deep breath and felt his spirits lift somewhat. The message had been a welcome one. It looked as if his time here may be coming to an end, provided the Englishwoman was indeed who they believed. Soon, he would have all the proof he needed and could return home. And that lifted his spirits considerably.
His step slowed as he approached a large building set back from the road and surrounded by a black, wrought-iron fence. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a leather billfold. Approaching the gate, he opened the billfold, holding his identification up for inspection. The soldier snapped to attention as soon as he saw the name and raised his hand in a salute as the man passed through the gate and went up the walkway to the building. Behind him, the soldier closed the gate and returned to his post just inside the perimeter of the property, glancing after him with a look of fear mixed with awe.
Neither of them noticed the woman who walked past the fence, her stride long and steady. She glanced at the plaque fixed onto the gate as she passed, her lips tightening slightly. Turning her gaze forward again, she continued on her way, leaving the Russian Embassy behind her.
Chapter Eleven
Evelyn stood up as the bus swayed to a stop at the side of the busy road. It was almost lunch time and, as she made her way down the aisle to the front of the bus, several people were getting on. She reached the front and pressed herself against the side of a seat as a woman carrying several packages tried to squeeze by her. Behind her, an older gentleman fumbled with a walking stick as he also navigated past Evelyn.
