by CW Browning
Evelyn stood up fluidly and smiled up at him, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. If it was trembling just a bit, he didn’t appear to notice.
“Is that where you’re from, Herr Untersturmführer Voss?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps I shall. Are all Untersturmführer in the Sicherheitsdienst as pleasant as you?”
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile and he was betrayed into a low chuckle.
“Alas, Fräulein, I think not.” He clicked his heels together and bowed slightly from his waist. “I wish you luck with your articles. If you ever find yourself in Berlin, I’d be very pleased to reacquaint you with my city.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Evelyn assured him, lowering her hand and turning towards the street. She paused and looked over her shoulder, giving him her best smile once again. “But how will I find you?”
Herr Voss smiled slowly, never taking his eyes from her face.
“Believe me Fräulein, if you ever come to Berlin, I’ll know, and I’ll find you.”
Evelyn swallowed as her mouth went suddenly dry and her skin went cold. A shiver went through her, but she kept her smile and tossed her head.
“I’ll hold you to that, Herr Untersturmführer,” she said, stepping off the curb. “Au revoir!”
She crossed the street swiftly, reaching the opposite side a moment later. Karl stood up quickly as she approached the table, shooting a look over her shoulder.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Where did he go?”
Evelyn turned to look and frowned, scanning the busy sidewalk opposite.
“He was just there!” she exclaimed. “He was standing right by the table. Where on earth did he go so quickly?”
Karl sank back into his seat. “They’re very good as disappearing,” he muttered, “and reappearing just when you don’t want them there.”
Evelyn seated herself and tore a piece off the baguette on the plate before her.
“I think I was able to buy you your twenty-four hours,” she said. “I told him I was a reporter from London. He seemed to believe me.”
“A reporter from London?” Karl stared at her, bemused.
“Yes. I told him I was writing a piece on German economics and how the Nazis have turned the country around. I convinced him that you were my primary source.” Evelyn popped the bread into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually, it wasn’t bad for a spur of the moment performance. I always was rather good at theatrics.”
“Wait, just…wait a minute.” Karl shook his head and pulled out his cigarette case. “You told him I was your source? Source for what?”
“Don’t look so worried! Nothing sensitive. I told him you were giving me examples and first-hand accounts of how life has changed for the better in Germany since the Führer and the National Socialists came to power.” Evelyn nodded when he automatically offered a cigarette and reached out to extract one from the case. “Merci! Once I convinced him that I was writing a favorable piece, he seemed to relax.”
“Ha! Gestapo don’t relax,” Karl said, lighting a match for her. “If you thought he was relaxed, it was because he wanted you to think that.”
Evelyn bent her head, lighting her cigarette.
“Perhaps,” she allowed, lifting her head and blowing a stream of smoke into the air above them. “I have no idea what he was thinking the whole time, but he seemed quite friendly in the end. I wouldn’t dawdle, though, if I were you. Get your family out of Munich quickly. I used the name of a real reporter, but it won’t hold up for long. He can easily find out that Miss. Richardson is still in London.”
Karl lit his own cigarette and looked at her in some consternation.
“Why did you do this?” he asked. “Why would you risk going over there and exposing yourself like that?”
“Why did you risk coming out of Germany when you had an Untersturmführer in the Sicherheitsdienst following you?” she countered.
He looked startled. “The Security Service? I thought he was Gestapo.”
“Aren’t they the same?”
Karl shook his head. “No. The Security Service is the intelligence agency. They are a parallel organization to the Gestapo, but different. Some say they are more dangerous.”
Evelyn exhaled. “Of course they are,” she muttered. “How many security agencies does your country have?”
“Several, and more splintering off every day,” he said. “Himmler is bringing them all under his control. Soon they will all be part of the SS.” Karl glanced at her sharply. “You’d be well served to learn all of them, and their insignias. You should know who your enemy is, and what they look like. They will blend in and be everywhere. You must learn to recognize them.”
“What good will the insignias be if they are all dressed like Herr Voss?” she asked. “He was in a plain suit.”
“Yes.” Karl glanced around and leaned forward. “They are the only branch of military service that is allowed to wear civilian clothes. All others must always be in uniform, even on personal time. The Gestapo, and the Security Service, they are the exception. They do not wear their uniform when working. They wear normal clothes, the better to be invisible. There are ways to recognize them, though. For one, they all wear black.”
“Black?”
“Yes. We call them swarze hemden - blackshirts. Their uniforms actually have black shirts. They’re partial to black overcoats and boots.” Karl looked at her thoughtfully. “Why don’t you know this?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I suppose it never came up.”
His eyes narrowed and he was quiet for a long moment.
“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” he finally asked.
She swallowed and met his dark eyes before nodding slowly.
“Yes, rather,” she admitted.
Karl shook his head and exhaled. A line of smoke curled into a spiral, snaking its way upwards.
“And you ran right into the Security Service. Not much luck, eh?” After another moment of silence, he sighed. “They usually travel in pairs. I never saw his companion, but you can be sure there is one. They are undoubtedly still watching us, and will probably follow us both when we part company. If I make it back to Munich, it will be a miracle.”
“What will they do?”
“If I’m lucky? They’ll simply pull me aside at the border and search me, then let me go.”
“And if you’re not lucky?”
“I’ll be arrested at the station.” Karl put out his cigarette. “What will be, will be. You, on the other hand, need to be prepared.”
“Me? How?”
“One of them, if not both of them, will most certainly follow you when you leave here. You must go collect the package or all of this will have been for nothing. There is information there that your leaders need. Details about Wehrmacht artillery and Luftwaffe strength.” Karl leaned forward again, lowering his voice even more. “Right now, Hitler’s military is not as powerful as he would like the world to think, but that is changing. Every day, they grow stronger and larger. Soon, they will be unstoppable. Now, however…”
His voice trailed off and Evelyn stared at him in sudden comprehension. If France and England acted now, Hitler was not in a position to retaliate.
“I’ll make sure the information gets to where it needs to go,” she promised. “How will I know if I am followed?”
“Look at every face you see and remember something about it. Maybe the eyes, or a nose, or a discoloration on the cheek. If you see the same face twice, you’ll know. Once you’re in the library, do whatever you need to do to justify your presence there.”
“Oh, that’s already arranged!” Evelyn said happily. “I’ve already told Herr Voss that I go to a library after an interview to write my notes. He’ll already be expecting me to go there.”
Something like approval lit Karl’s eyes.
“Good. Very good. Then go in and sit at a table and pretend to write. After some time, go to t
he card catalog and look up the book. Remember the call number? Be sure to look up that number. They may check what you looked at and compare it to where you go.”
“What is the name of the book?”
“A Treatise on Lepidoptera, Volume Three.”
“I have no idea how that would relate to the economic strides in Germany,” she groaned. “I’ll think of something, though. How big is the package?”
“It’s an envelope with microfilm inside. Once you retrieve it, it can be easily concealed. For God’s sake, don’t put it in your handbag! That’s the first place they’ll look.”
“You’re presuming they’ll be able to get to it,” Evelyn said briskly.
“Oh, they will find a way,” he assured her. “So don’t be stupid.”
“Very well. I won’t.”
Karl looked at her. “I wish you luck, Fräulein.”
“And I you,” she replied, stubbing out her cigarette. “Let’s hope that you are lucky when you cross the border.”
“Remember, look at every face. That is the only way you will know who the companion is.”
Chapter Six
Evelyn walked past the circulation desk where two librarians were busy sorting and stamping stacks of books. Glancing at them, she caught the eye of one, nodding to him cheerfully. The man nodded in greeting before returning his attention to his task.
After leaving the café, she had stopped into a tobacconist on a narrow side street, ostensibly to purchase some cigarettes. While chatting with the clerk, she could see through the two storefront windows easily and watched as people hurried down the narrow sidewalk. As the clerk was ringing up her purchase, a man in a black overcoat had drawn her attention as he passed the window. He hadn’t looked inside, but she nevertheless had felt a leap in her pulse. She paid for her purchase, asked the clerk for directions to the library, and left the small shop. When she had climbed onto the tram that would carry her within a block of the library, the same man had also boarded.
Now, crossing the wide tiled entryway towards the reading area, Evelyn glanced behind her. If there had been any doubt that she was being followed, it had been dispelled when he got off the tram at her stop. While there was no sign of him now, she had no doubt that he would reappear.
The library was an old, sprawling structure with tiled floor and heavy, ornate woodwork. Her heels echoed in the muted quiet of the vast building as she entered the main reading room. The area consisted of a collection of tables, some long enough for several people, and others intended for one person. A smattering of fellow patrons were already settled in at various tables with books and notebooks before them. One woman dressed in a smart gray suit had a variety of books spread out on a table, her head bent as she perused the pages of a thick tome, alternating between scribbling in a notebook and examining the text before her.
The smell of books and wood polish permeated the air, and Evelyn inhaled deeply, shifting her gaze to the wide, circular staircase that led to the second level. A wall of card catalogs separated the reading area from the circulation and periodicals side of the building and she eyed it briefly. The urge to go straight to the wooden drawers and find the card for A Treatise on Lepidoptera, Volume Three was almost overwhelming. All she wanted was to get the envelope and get out of the library without incident.
Swallowing, she turned to walk over to one of the tables towards the back of the immense room. Positioned towards the back corner, Evelyn would have a clear view of everyone who entered the area, as well as anyone who went up the wide circular stairs to the upper levels. Taking a deep breath, she moved towards the empty table. She had just seated herself when the man in the black overcoat moved across the wide lobby to the circulation desk.
Despite the fact that she’d known he would show up, her heart still thumped in her chest and she let out a soft gasp. Opening her purse, she pulled out a small notebook and pencil, silently thanking the heavens that she had long been in the habit of carrying them with her. It was something she had begun in Hong Kong when she went out with her father, wanting to capture the local sights and sounds for her diary. As she grew older, the habit continued, but she would never have believed that it would come to play such an important role in her own safety.
Evelyn’s hands shook as she set the notebook on the table and opened it to a fresh page. The man turned and looked across the vast expanse into the reading room, his dark eyes seeming to hone right into her in her corner. They passed on dispassionately, however, and he made his way over to the card catalog, disappearing behind the row of wooden drawers.
Exhaling, she picked up the pencil and stared at the page. She had to appear to be writing notes for her non-existent newspaper article, but Evelyn was suddenly paralyzed with not the faintest idea of what to write. Finally, after a moment of blinding uncertainty, she focused on what she imagined Karl might have said if he was discussing the economic advancements made under Hitler and the Nazi Party. Her hand began to move and words began to fill the page, fabricated anecdotes and stories flowing from one page to another in the small book. She kept her attention on the task before her, resolutely refusing to lift her eyes to look for the man following her. If he was watching her, she had to appear to be engrossed in her work.
In between two imaginary anecdotes, Evelyn found herself recording the disturbing story of the couple down the street from Karl and the tragic fate of their daughter. If the SS did indeed have that kind of power, it was terrifying to imagine what the reality was for many in Germany and Austria. Innocent citizens could be reported out of petty spite by their neighbors, just as that poor girl had been. As she wrote, Evelyn sucked in her breath in sudden understanding. Karl had related the incident in very matter-of-fact terms, illustrating louder than words how the Gestapo had become a permanent fixture in the life of every German citizen. They lived every day knowing that at any time, they could be approached and arrested for crimes they never committed.
Raising her eyes thoughtfully, Evelyn stared blindly across the library towards the card catalog. She had heard of the Gestapo, of course. They were hardly a secret. Somehow, she had always just assumed they were a police force that were a little more intimidating than the others. She never dreamt that they wielded such absolute power.
“The Security Service is the intelligence agency. They are a parallel organization to the Gestapo, but different. Some say they are more dangerous.”
Karl’s words came back to her and she bit the inside of her bottom lip. She had to get an envelope with microfilm out of a book and take it away under the very nose of one of them? She shivered violently and lowered her gaze back to the notebook before her.
She didn’t have to do this. She could finish writing in her book, get up, and then leave the library. She could return to Paris and carry on with her holiday, forgetting all about Karl and Herr Voss. After all, none of this had anything to do with her. She was a British subject, born into one of the oldest families in England, and bred to marry the same. The affairs of Europe and Germany were the province of men like her father and William Buckley, and of Prime Minister Chamberlain. Not her. She was simply a socialite from Lancashire. The only expectation anyone had of her was that she would marry into a family of equal or better standing and continue the long-held English traditions which had been carried from generation to generation.
She didn’t have to go up to the second level and extract an envelope of microfilm smuggled out of Germany at unfathomable risk. What was it to her if Karl was arrested at the border? He had known the risks when he agreed to betray his government.
Evelyn’s lips tightened. He had known the risks, and known the stakes, and agreed to do it anyway. Because he believed that the information in that envelope was worth risking not only his life, but the lives of his family.
Bill had asked her to retrieve the package because he, also, felt that it was important. Important enough to send a young woman who had never done anything like this before to pick it up and bring it back.
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After a long, indecisive moment, Evelyn laid the pencil down and closed the notebook. Karl had risked his life to get the information out of Germany, continuing even after knowing that the SS were following him. Who was she to balk at finishing it now?
Gathering up her handbag and the notebook, Evelyn rose and moved across the tiled floor to the card catalog.
As the woman dressed impeccably in a steel blue skirt and matching jacket crossed the reading area to the card catalog, Josephine Rousseau looked up from the book before her. She had a variety of texts spread out on the table around her, ensuring that she remained alone at her table. Her dark gray eyes watched as the woman moved across the tiled floor, her steps steady and light. A hat in a matching blue perched atop thick blonde curls and Josephine pursed her lips thoughtfully.
The woman was nothing like what she had been expecting. In fact, Josephine hadn’t been expecting a woman at all. When she received word that Rupert had had the temerity to allow his appendix to go bad, she assumed another man would be sent in his place. Instead, unless she was very much mistaken, Bill had sent a young and wealthy socialite in Rupert’s stead.
Lowering her eyes back to the text before her, Josephine’s lips tightened. This whole exchange had become far more complicated than it should have been. It was a simple enough process. Karl passed the package to the courier, the courier took it to Bill, and Karl returned to Munich. It had been done just so twice before. This time, however, the bloody Gestapo had come along.
Josephine glanced up as the woman reached the card catalog and began moving along the wall of wooden drawers, looking for a specific drawer. Karl had resorted to the backup plan, stashing the package and alerting her to the new arrangement. Under this scenario, if the courier was unable to retrieve the package, Josephine would do it and send it through the network to Bill. It meant it would take several days to reach him, and it increased the risk of the information being lost, but it was the only contingency should the courier fail.
