by CW Browning
Maggie had been very clear about a lot of things in the few hours they had spent rushing around the city, preparing for their elaborate charade. While they hurriedly gathered appropriate clothing and accessories to aid in their performance, Maggie had gone over her plan in detail, stressing the importance of both timing and calm. She should never appear hesitant or unsure. The best disguise was confidence. Anna’s lips twitched at the corners as she remembered that particular instruction. She had laughed, but Maggie had been deadly serious. It was human nature, she explained. Present a confident appearance and very few will challenge that image. And she had been right. Herr Renner was watching, but he was making no move to stop her. He couldn’t afford to. She was a respected guest until she walked out that door.
She just had to make it past the short man whom she’d seen earlier and who was standing just inside the entrance, talking to another gentleman.
Maggie had been right about it all. The man in the hallway, the men in the lobby, and even Herr Renner. As soon as she stepped out of the hotel room, all eyes were on her. They wanted to know where she was going. In the absence of their true target, she was the next best thing. Maggie had assured her they would swarm to her like bees, and that was just what they were doing.
“Excuse me, Miss!”
A deep voice called suddenly behind her. He spoke in Norwegian and Anna knew without turning that it was Renner. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach clenched as she turned, pausing a few feet from the door. Renner was striding towards her quickly, something in his hand.
“I believe you dropped this,” he said, holding out his hand.
Anna stopped just short of letting out a gasp. He held a handkerchief that was most definitely hers. She had left it on the table in the sitting room earlier this morning. She’d completely forgotten about it, but now she stared at it in bemusement. It hadn’t been there when she was hastily gathering everything a few moments before.
“Oh!” she said, realizing that he was waiting for an answer. “Thank you!”
She reached out to take it but as her fingers touched it, it drifted to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, bending at the same time as her to retrieve it. As he did so, she felt her purse begin to slip. Moving her arm quickly, she turned sideways as she reached for the slip of fabric on the floor. The swift movement prevented the bag from falling and spilling out all over the floor and she felt a measure of satisfaction at the very brief tightening of his lips. Of all the nerve! He was trying to get something from her purse!
Anna plucked the handkerchief off the floor and straightened up, a smile plastered across her face.
“It’s quite all right,” she told him, tucking it into her purse and snapping the bag closed with a firm click. “Thank you for returning it.”
She turned on her heel and continued to the door, leaving Renner standing in the middle of lobby watching her go. The two men inside the door looked at him for a moment, then resumed their conversation as she passed. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped outside into the gathering dusk a moment later.
A black sedan sat the curb, and as she exited the hotel, the driver got out and went to the back to open the trunk. He nodded to her politely as the porter went around her to load the bags into the car. Anna watched and smiled as the porter turned to return to the hotel.
“Tak,” she murmured.
He touched his cap in acknowledgment and Anna waited for the driver to open the door for her.
“The train station, please,” she told him as she got in, making sure her voice carried to the man lurking in the shadows a few feet away. “Quickly.”
“Yes miss.”
The driver closed the door and Anna glanced out the window as he got behind the wheel again. As they pulled away from the hotel, she saw the man rush from the shadows into the hotel and she sat back in the seat. A smile curved her lips. They would take the bait. They had no choice. She was their only link to Maggie. They would have to follow her.
Anna looked at her watch in the fading light. Timing. It was everything. She waited a few blocks then, when the hand on her watch ticked to the quarter hour, she looked up.
“Could you stop just up here for a moment?” she asked cheerfully. “I need to drop something off. I won’t be a minute.”
“Of course.”
The driver turned the corner where she indicated, pulling up behind a gray sedan already parked by the side of the road. As he eased to a stop, the back door of the other car opened and tall, young man emerged. Anna opened her door and got out, walking forward to meet him while her driver climbed out from behind the steering wheel again.
“Mr. Manchester?” she asked in surprise.
He shook his head. “No. I’m Collins, his assistant. He sent me to collect the baggage.”
She nodded and turned to the driver who was standing discreetly at slight distance.
“Could you open the back, please?”
He nodded and went to the back of the car, opening the truck. Collins joined him and motioned to Anna.
“Which ones?” he asked.
“The two on the right, and the small toiletries case.”
He collected the bags and transferred them to the gray sedan, then walked back to hold out his hand.
“Mr. Manchester extends his deepest gratitude,” he told her quietly. “He hopes you didn’t find it all too unpleasant.”
Anna laughed and took his hand. “On the contrary! I’m enjoying myself immensely!”
He looked startled at that, then a slow smile crossed his face.
“Have a safe trip home, Miss Salvesen,” he said, dropping his hand and touching his hat. “Please take all care. Daniel Carew will have all of us on a rack if anything happens to you. He’s threatening all sorts of reprisals if you don’t return safely.”
“I’ll be careful,” she assured him, turning to get back into her car. “Send him a message and tell him I said to stop being an old woman. I’ll be just fine.”
Comrade Grigori looked up when the lift opened and a tall, dark-haired woman walked out. A porter followed, carrying multiple bags, and Grigori was just lowering his eyes back to his newspaper when something made him look again. He frowned, watching the woman thoughtfully. She looked familiar, but he really couldn’t place why. Had he seen her earlier? In the restaurant perhaps? Whoever she was, she was obviously checking out of the hotel.
The woman was halfway across the lobby now and, as she walked, she tossed her head in a peculiar sideways motion. Grigori inhaled sharply. He’d seen her in another hotel, in Oslo! It was that strange toss of the head that brought the memory back. She had been with the Englishwoman that night in the restaurant!
Folding the paper, he got up and started to cross the lobby towards her just as another tall man moved out from behind one of the columns. Grigori’s step checked and he raised an eyebrow as the man followed the woman to the desk, stopping a few feet away. At first glance, he appeared to be just another guest awaiting service at the busy concierge desk, but Comrade Grigori knew a German SD agent when he saw one. This was no ordinary guest.
He turned his eyes back to the woman, his frown deepening. If the SD were watching her, there could only be one explanation: they were watching the Englishwoman as well.
Moving closer, he listened as the woman spoke to the concierge in clear, carrying tones. She was speaking in Swedish, which wasn’t one of Grigori’s stronger languages. Yet he was able to make out enough to realize that the Englishwoman wouldn’t be returning to the hotel.
Irritation rolled through him and he glanced at the German listening a few feet away. He supposed he had the SD to thank for this. As usual, they had blundered into something they knew nothing about and, in the process, alerted the English spy to the danger of returning to the hotel. She’d already been on her guard because he himself was staying there. The SD would have clinched the matter. Only a fool would return to their room under these circumstances.
Grigori changed direction and moved towards the entrance of the hotel, his lips pressed together in displeasure. The question was, where had she gone, and the only one who knew the answer to that was the woman currently standing at the desk. He looked up and saw two men standing inside the front entrance talking. His eyes narrowed and he pulled on his gloves, pausing to do up the buttons on his coat. The men paid him no attention, focused instead on the woman at the desk. Once his coat was buttoned, Grigori continued to the door, passing outside without drawing any attention.
How many of them were there? The irritation had now turned into full-fledged anger. What did they think were doing? They couldn’t take a British subject in the middle of a neutral city! If it were possible, Grigori would have detained her long before now. Yet if there were three of them in the lobby, that meant there were even more outside. They probably had all the exits covered, and someone watching her room. That all pointed to an attempt to kidnap her right from the hotel.
Pulling the collar of his coat up against the chill, Grigori turned and walked a few feet to his right. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, raising his eyes as he did so to study the man lounging on the opposite side of the entrance in the shadows. There was another one. The Germans were definitely up to no good.
And because of it, he’d lost his chance to question the spy himself.
He flicked his lighter closed and lifted his head, nodding pleasantly to the doorman. The doorman nodded back and he moved closer to the hotel, just another guest stepping outside for a smoke and some fresh air. A few moments later, a black sedan rolled up to the curb in front of the door and stopped, idling in the growing dusk.
The woman strode out with the porter following and, as she did, the driver of the black sedan got out and went to the back of the car to open the trunk. Grigori watched as the bags were loaded in and the porter departed.
“The train station, please. Quickly!”
The driver nodded and the woman got into the car. Grigori waited until the driver got behind the wheel before dropping his cigarette onto the pavement and putting it out with his shoe. By the time the black sedan was pulling away from the curb, he was already moving towards the corner to hail a taxi.
Renner watched through the doors as the car pulled away from the curb and Otto rushed in from the street. He skidded to a stop and looked disconcerted at finding Renner standing so close to the entrance. As he opened his mouth to speak, Renner made an impatient sound and motioned for him to follow him. Swallowing, Otto glanced at the two men inside the door, who shrugged and followed with him as Renner led them across the lobby to a quiet section on the other side where they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Well?” he asked, his voice short and clipped.
“She’s going to the train station,” Otto announced breathlessly. “She told the driver to be quick.”
Renner let out a low curse and turned to stride over to the desk against the wall that held the lobby telephone. He picked up the receiver and dialed quickly, a scowl on his face. The three men behind him looked at each other, then shamelessly moved forward a few steps to listen.
“This is Sturmbannführer Wilhelm Renner. Send Helmut to The Strand immediately. I’ll meet him in the back.”
He hung up and turned to the others.
“Gather everyone except Kurt and bring them to the alley,” he commanded. “Tell Kurt to remain behind in case the Englishwoman comes back. Otto, come with me.”
The other two nodded and immediately split up as Otto joined Renner in striding across the lobby towards the back of the hotel.
“Did you hear anything else?”
“No. Just to go to the train station and to be quick.”
“Did the driver seem surprised?”
Otto thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, actually. He seemed to be expecting it.”
Renner offered no response to that, his lips pressed together in a thin line. His strides were measured and controlled, but he was furious. How did the other woman, this Miss Salvesen, get back into hotel without any of his men seeing? She should never have had the opportunity to call the porter, or to leave at all. If he’d known she’d returned to the room, he would have gone himself to see her. Renner had no doubt that in ten minutes he would have found out where the Richardson woman was. Instead, he had no idea where she was and he’d been forced to watch as their one link to her drove away.
He cursed again and felt Otto stare at him in surprise. Let him look. Somehow that woman had got past all of them, and Renner held each of them responsible. There was no excuse for their incompetence. This simple operation had turned into a debacle, and now he was going to have to explain to Obersturmbannführer Hans Voss how they had allowed her to slip through their fingers.
Renner reached the door to the alley and pushed it open, stepping outside. A stiff, cold wind smacked him in the face and he quickly began buttoning his coat while he looked around the narrow lane.
“Where’s Franz?” he demanded after a second. “Dammit, is everyone incompetent today?!”
“Oh my God!” Otto suddenly exclaimed, running forward. “He’s here!”
Renner followed, his cold gaze falling on the prone figure laying on the ground halfway up the alley. Otto reached him and dropped down beside him, feeling on his neck for a pulse.
“He’s still breathing,” he announced, glancing up at Renner. “Looks like his nose was broken.”
Renner stared down at the man, then raised his gaze to look around the dark alley. The anger intensified.
“I think we now know how Miss Salvesen got into the hotel,” he said, his voice harsh.
“But who did this?” Otto demanded, standing. “A woman couldn’t do this.”
Renner looked down at Franz consideringly. “So you’d think,” he murmured.
“What?”
Headlights illuminated the mouth of the alley as a black car pulled into the narrow lane.
“Nothing.” Renner turned to look back at the door as the others emerged into the alley. “Get Franz into the car. We can’t leave him here. He’ll have to go with you.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the train station,” Renner said shortly, walking towards the car. “I’ll instruct Helmut. Get Franz up. Have one of them help you.”
“What about you? We all won’t fit in the car.”
“I’ll follow in my own,” he said over his shoulder. “Schnell! She already has a five-minute head start!”
Otto started to lift Franz off the ground and one of the others came forward quickly to help him. While they struggled with the dead weight, the others hurried to the car. Renner watched them, then bent down to speak to the driver.
“Go to the train station. You’re looking for a black sedan, number AB-504. Otto can help. He was standing right next to it.”
The man nodded. “And when I find it?”
“Don’t let it out of your sight.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Paris, France
Bill looked up as a knock fell on the door. Calling for them to come in, he slid the sheet of paper he was reading smoothing under a folder. He watched as Wesley Fitch, his assistant, entered carrying a tray with a teapot, two teacups, and a stack of correspondence.
“Afternoon,” he said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. “I have good news, sir.”
Bill sat back in his chair and stretched.
“Good. I could use some,” he said. “What is it?”
“Topper made it out of Poland at last and is in Zürich,” Wesley told him, carrying the tray over and setting it down on a side table near the desk. “He should be in London in two days, at the latest.”
“That is good news!” Bill stood up and walked over to where Wesley was pouring tea into the cups. “Any word on whether or not he’s injured?”
“No. The message was only that he made it out and arrived in Zürich this morning.” Wesley turned to hand him a full cup of tea. �
�I’ve already sent a message to London to let them know.”
“Thank you.” Bill took the cup and turned to go back to his seat. “I’ll need to go back to London. Make the arrangements, will you? The first available flight in the morning, I think.”
“Shall I book for Mrs. Buckley as well?”
Bill sipped his tea before setting the cup and saucer down. “Not this time. I think she’s enjoying being back in France. She won’t want to leave again so soon.”
Wesley nodded and picked up the stack of correspondence, carrying it over to him.
“Here are today’s transmissions and briefings,” he said. “There’s one from Sir Jasper there. You may want to look at that first.”
Bill took the stack and began sorting through it as Wesley went back to pour tea into the other cup. The brief silence in the office was broken by another knock at the door and Bill looked up in surprise.
“Come in!”
The door opened and one of the radio operators rushed in breathlessly.
“Excuse me, sir, but you wanted to know as soon as I received word from Stockholm,” he gasped.
Bill raised his eyebrows sharply and nodded, taking in the operators disheveled appearance. It looked as though he had run all the way from the radio room three floors above.
“Take a minute and catch your breath, Corporal. Another thirty seconds won’t make much difference, now will it?”
Wesley turned with his tea and sipped it, leaning against the side table and watching the radio operator curiously. The air of barely controlled excitement was palpable and he glanced at his boss to find him sitting back in his chair, waiting patiently for the young man to catch his breath.
“Sorry, sir,” the young man said after a moment. “I just wanted to get the news to you as quickly as possible. Horace Manchester sent a message from the embassy.”
He walked over to the desk and handed Bill a sealed communication, then returned to his place a few feet away as Bill opened it and quickly scanned the contents.
