by CW Browning
The woman paused and opened a drawer, flipping quickly through the cards inside while Josephine studied her from under her lashes. Her clothes were from one of the more expensive fashion houses in Paris and her shoes alone cost more than most people made in a month. Yet the woman carried herself in a way that made Josephine watch her carefully. Instinctively, she knew that this woman wasn’t just another bored socialite looking for adventure. There was something about the way she held her shoulders and the tilt of her chin that made her think there was much more to this courier than she had first perceived. At least, she hoped there was; the Gestapo agent on the other side of the circulation area would have the woman for lunch if she was wrong.
Josephine closed the thick book in front of her and picked up her notebook as the woman closed the drawer and turned towards the wide staircase. Pushing her chair back, she got up and carried the notebook with her, following the woman to the stairs. She reached the bottom at the same time as the man in the black overcoat. The man never spared her a glance, his eyes intent on the slender figure disappearing up the stairs to the second level.
She paused, pretending to consult something in her notebook as he started up stairs. Then, after glancing swiftly around to make sure there wasn’t another with him, she followed the pair.
Evelyn reached the top of the stairs and glanced at the call numbers on the floor to ceiling bookshelf closest to her. Looking to her left, she noted the numbers on the next one before turning to her right. Her legs trembled as she quickly moved away from the stairs. The man in the black overcoat was following her and she only had a few precious seconds before he reached the top of the stairs. Without thinking, she ducked down an aisle of books, disappearing from view.
Taking a deep breath, she swiftly bent down and took off her shoes, holding them in one hand as she ran down the aisle, her stockinged feet making no sound on the tiled floor. Reaching the end of the aisle, she rounded the corner and found herself in a narrow passageway running along the outer wall. She darted down the walkway, heading towards the last stack on the right where Karl had placed the envelope. As she passed each aisle, she glanced down, looking for the man in the overcoat. Aside from a few startled patrons, she saw no one during her mad dash across the second floor of the library.
As she drew closer to the end, she slowed to a walk and bent to slip her shoes back on. The hard soles could make sound now. Hopefully, she had bought herself enough time to locate the package while her unwelcome friend was busy searching the aisles behind her.
Evelyn’s heart was pounding, both from the exertion and from fright, as she turned down the second-to-last aisle of books and began scanning the spines. After looking at a handful of numbers, she determined that the one she needed was about midway along the shelves. She moved forward quickly, scanning the shelves about halfway up the aisle. It would be easily accessible, and probably at eye-level. After all, Karl had been in a hurry when he placed the envelope. He would hardly have taken the time to pick a book out of easy reach.
There! She spotted the title and plucked the slender, leather-bound volume off the shelf. Opening it, she flipped through the pages quickly, gasping softly when a creased envelope fell into her gloved hand.
Somehow, she was only half expecting to find the envelope. The whole thing was so surreal that now, holding it in her hand, Evelyn felt a rush of excitement go through her. It was really here! This was what Karl had risked so much to get out of Germany and into her hands.
A man coughed nearby and her heart slammed in her chest. How long had she been standing there, staring at the envelope in a stupor? Not more than a second, surely! With her heart pounding, Evelyn slid the book back onto the shelf and opened the envelope. She pulled out three strips of microfilm and glanced up and down the aisle. She only had a few moments before the Security Service agent came along and found her.
With shaking hands, she opened her handbag.
Josephine frowned and slipped into an empty aisle, peering around the corner. The man in the black overcoat was striding down the center aisle, looking down each row on both sides as he went. He moved steadily, searching for his quarry with unrelenting focus.
Biting her lip, she hesitated, then grabbed a book from the shelf near her shoulder and emerged from the aisle. He was about halfway to the end now, pausing to listen. A man coughed somewhere up ahead and the agent moved forward again. Josephine followed, keeping her eyes on his back, ready to duck into the stacks again if he turned his head.
The woman could only be a few seconds ahead of him, hardly enough time to find the package, let alone conceal it. She had to do something or the German would get the package and the courier would be exposed. She had to buy the woman more time!
Josephine ducked down the next aisle and pulled random books from the shelves, piling them on top of each other in her arms before turning to go out of the stacks once more. The man had paused about four aisles from the end and was looking around in some indecision. Clearly he was unsure if he should continue or try the other side of the library.
Picking up her pace until she was practically running, Josephine went towards him with her large stack of books. Just as he began moving again, she stumbled and fell forward, launching the books at his back.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, falling to her knees.
One of the books hit him while the others flew out around her, pages falling open in disarray. The man swung around, staring at her in astonishment as she sprawled on floor at his feet. The noise drew the attention of nearby patrons and one came running out of the row nearby.
“Are you hurt?” a young man in a mustard pullover sweater and glasses asked, rushing over to kneel beside her.
“No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him, looking around her in bemusement. “I think I must have tripped.”
The man in the black overcoat looked down at her, clearly torn between his desire to continue with his manhunt and the basic manners which required him to assist her.
“Let me help you,” he finally said in heavily accented French, bending to pick up the book that had pelted him in the back.
“Oh no, it’s quite all right,” Josephine exclaimed. “I don’t want to cause a commotion.”
“There’s no commotion,” the young man with the glasses assured her, handing her a book. “It’s a good thing you aren’t hurt. These floors can be brutal. I know. I’ve slipped once or twice myself.”
Josephine looked at him. “You’re very kind. Thank you.”
“Well, if you’re quite sure you’re all right,” the man in the overcoat stopped just short of clicking his heels together, “I’m in a hurry at the moment.”
“Yes, thank you very much,” she said, accepting the book he held out. “I really don’t want to be a bother. Please, don’t think twice about it!”
The man turned away and continued towards the end of the aisle as the young man beside her helped Josephine gather up the books around them. Looking up under her eyelashes, her breath caught in her throat as she watched the woman in blue emerge from the second-to-last stack.
The man stopped dead and there was a moment of stunned silence as he and the woman stared at each other. Then, without batting an eyelid, the woman continued on her way, walking down the aisle towards them. She had just passed the Gestapo agent when he turned and called out.
“Mademoiselle!”
The woman stopped and Josephine thought her face went a shade paler before she turned to face the man.
“Yes?”
“Could I bother you for the time?” he asked, stepping forward to stand before her.
Josephine accepted the last book from the young man and rose to her feet with him. Across the distance, she watched as the woman raised her left arm to peer at the delicate watch on her wrist.
“Yes, it’s just past—Oh!”
The exclamation was ripped from her as her handbag flew out of her right hand.
“My apologies!” The man said as the bag hit the floor.
The force of the impact proved no match for the delicate clasp and the bag popped open, spilling its contents all over the tiled floor.
“See? You’re not the only one!” The young man beside her said with a grin and a nod. “I told you! These floors are deadly.”
With a cheerful wave, he headed back into the stacks and Josephine turned to move into the closest aisle. As soon as she was out of sight, she peered around the corner, watching as the man and the woman bent to pick up the items from the handbag. While the woman reached for a lipstick and compact, the man picked up a small notebook and a white envelope. After looking at the open notebook a moment longer than necessary, he straightened up. As he did so, Josephine watched the envelope disappear into his coat pocket.
“Are you a writer?” he asked, closing the notebook and handing it to the woman as she stood up.
“Yes, I am,” she said, tucking the notebook into the bag along with the makeup. “I’m a journalist.”
“I thought you must be,” he said. “I can’t think why anyone else would carry a notebook and pencil with them.”
“Pencil!” The woman looked at the floor. “Where’s my pencil?”
“Here.” The man bent down and picked up a pencil that had rolled a few feet away. “I’m terribly sorry. I slipped. Do you have everything?”
The woman tucked the pencil into her bag and closed it, nodding.
“Yes, I think so.”
He nodded and turned away to head back towards the stairs in the center of the floor. Josephine watched as he walked towards her, his head down. He pulled the envelope from his coat pocket as he walked and she held her breath. The woman appeared in no hurry to follow him, walking slowly as if she was still looking for a book. The man opened the envelope, then stopped mid-stride. An ugly look crossed his face and Josephine inhaled involuntarily, her skin growing cold. Whatever was inside, he was not happy. And if a Gestapo agent wasn’t happy, it was never good news for the person on the receiving end.
Chapter Seven
Evelyn’s heart surged into her throat as the man stopped abruptly ahead of her, his head bent towards the envelope he’d pulled from his pocket. He’d been stealthy enough when he pocketed it, but she had been watching for it and saw him do it. She’d hoped he would wait until he was away from her before opening it and finding it empty. Now, he swung around and advanced towards her, an ugly look on his cold face.
“I was hoping to keep this civil,” he snarled in a low voice, “but now that seems impossible.”
“Pardon? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, casting an anxious glance around. The aisles on either side of them were deserted and his voice was low enough not to draw the attention of the other two patrons who had been there just moments before.
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“What was in this envelope!” He brandished the empty envelope in one black-gloved hand.
Evelyn opened her eyes very wide and shrugged.
“How should I know?”
“It came from your bag!”
“Did it? I haven’t the faintest idea. I don’t remember. Probably theatre tickets, long gone.” Only a very slight tremor disturbed her voice as she met his arctic gaze.
The man reached out and grabbed her arm, his fingers digging painfully into her through the fabric of her jacket sleeve.
“As I said, I was hoping to keep this civil,” he said, looming over her and bringing his face closer to hers, “but you’re trying my patience. Where are the contents of this envelope?”
In an instant, a surge of anger dispelled the fear coursing through her and Evelyn’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“You’ve already gone beyond civil,” she told him coldly, “and so I feel completely justified to do the same.”
His mocking laugh was cut short abruptly when the arm he gripped suddenly moved, pulling him forward. A small fist drove under his chin, snapping his head back painfully. He released his hold on her and stumbled back, stunned. Before he could recover, or focus enough to see it coming, Evelyn kicked him swiftly inside his thigh at the apex, near his groin. His leg collapsed and he fell towards her as her elbow made contact with the side of his head. Spinning to the side, her hand sliced into the side of his neck, hitting the main pressure point located there as he went down.
Evelyn stepped back as he fell to the floor, his eyes closing. She lowered her hands from their neutral defensive positions in front of each other and, taking a deep breath, stepped over the prone figure on the floor. After a quick look around, she moved quickly towards the stairs.
Any second, one of the other patrons would emerge from the stacks to find him lying there, and she wanted to be far away when they did. There was no good explanation for why a man was suddenly unconscious on the floor and, while experience had taught her that most would never believe she was capable of bringing a grown man down, she instinctively realized that the less attention she brought to herself now, the better.
Without looking back, she walked swiftly towards the spiral staircase, her heart pounding in her chest. Of all the rotten luck! She thought she was being terribly clever when she put the envelope in her handbag as a diversion. She was convinced it would buy her time. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Chalk it up to a lesson learned. She had a feeling there would be many more lessons to follow, if she continued down this unexpected path she’d found herself on.
Evelyn thought she saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye and she swiftly turned her head, glancing behind her sharply. There was no one there and she continued on, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. The sound echoed between the rows of bookshelves, inordinately very loud to her nervous ear. She bit her bottom lip and looked behind her again.
And her heart thumped into her throat.
The man in the overcoat was moving, pushing himself into a sitting position and shaking his head groggily. She let out an involuntary gasp and flew the last few feet to the top of the stairs with only one thought: to get down them and out of the building before he saw her.
Reaching the stairs, Evelyn placed one gloved hand on the banister and looked down. Cold, sheer panic rolled over her as she watched a tall man in a black suit walk across the lobby to the foot of the stairs. Herr Voss glanced up as he set his foot on the first step and Evelyn recoiled, terror squeezing her throat closed. She didn’t know if he saw her, but he was most definitely coming up the steps to the second level.
Evelyn looked back to the other one. He was standing now, still facing the other way. He hadn’t seen her yet. Casting her eyes around frantically, she ducked into the closest aisle of books and ran towards the end. She only had a minute. When Herr Voss reached the top of the stairs, he would have a clear and unrestricted view down this very aisle.
Reaching the end, she turned left, disappearing around the corner. Gasping for breath, Evelyn bent to pull off her shoes again. She could run faster in bare feet, and that more than made up for the precious seconds it took to remove them. Gripping them in one hand, she took off, dashing along the narrow walkway that wound its way along the outer wall of the library.
She had no idea where she was going, or even if there was any way out up here, but she knew she couldn’t go back. Not after she’d knocked out a German agent.
The walkway ended ahead, turning left again at the last row of books. Evelyn looked behind her and slowed. Now what? If she went left, it would end with her crossing the floor and, if they had an ounce of sense, they would know that this was the only direction she could have gone.
Tears of fear pricked the back of her eyes and she blinked them away impatiently. She didn’t have time to panic. She had to think!
She turned up the second to last aisle and gasped as she ran straight into a person. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and she instinctively fell back a step as the person grabbed her arm. As soon as fingers closed around her forearm, Evelyn swung her other arm in attack only to have it blocked.
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“Stop! It’s all right!” a female voice broke through her terror and Evelyn focused on a vaguely familiar face framed with short, black curls. “I can help you!”
Evelyn stared at her. It was the woman who had been picking up books on the floor when she came out of the stacks to face the Security Service agent.
“What?” she asked stupidly.
“I can help you, but we have to move now!” the woman hissed, pulling her down the aisle towards the main floor.
“What…who…who are you?” Evelyn finally found her voice.
“A friend,” she replied, stopping at the end of the aisle and peering around the corner. “It seems as if you could use one right now.”
Evelyn tried to catch her breath, staring at the woman.
“You’re the woman from downstairs!” she suddenly gasped in recognition. “You were surrounded by books at one of the tables!”
The woman glanced over her shoulder, her lips curving faintly.
“Well done,” she commended her. “They’re about seven rows back. They’re each taking one side. Do you see that walkway over there? To the left?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Good. When I say go, run. I’ll meet you at the end of the aisle.”
“Then what?” Evelyn asked, her eyes wide. “We’ll be trapped in the corner!”
“You have to trust me. Are you ready?”
Evelyn looked across the open expanse of floor helplessly. What choice did she have? She nodded. The woman peered around the corner again, holding Evelyn’s arm as if to keep her from bolting too soon. Then her hand dropped.
“Go!”
Later, Evelyn didn’t have any conscious memory of making her legs move, but as soon as the word came out of the woman’s mouth, she was flying across the open space to the narrow aisle behind the last row of bookshelves. She didn’t look to her right, terrified that if she did, the men would see her.
Don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip! She repeated the words over and over to herself as she shot across to the safety of concealment behind the last row of books.
