The Oslo Affair (Shadows of War, #2)

by CW Browning

  Miles raised an eyebrow. “Well how should I know, Slippy?” he demanded. “Do I look like a bird to you?”

  More laughter erupted from the end of the bar as Slippy protested loudly.

  “Oh I say, that’s jolly unfair! You’ve known me longer than anybody! What about that time in London at that delightful club? You remember? The one with the excellent brandy?”

  “All I remember is that you spilled brandy down my best jacket and then stood on the table to recite the opening stanza of Macbeth!”

  Slippy grinned, unabashed. “Did I? Well, ladies love poetry, don’t they?”

  “Good Lord, Slippy, you’re worse than I thought!” Rob exclaimed, handing him a full pint. “Clearly you’re beyond my assistance. I wash my hands of you!”

  A smiling landlord set a full pint before Chris and took the coin that he handed him. He looked at Miles’ glass.

  “You all right, lad?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He nodded and turned to make change for Chris.

  “Have you heard from your WAAF?” Chris asked, lighting a cigarette.

  “Got a letter from her just today, as a matter of fact,” Miles said with a nod. “She’s been sent to a base in Northumberland for a training course. Can’t tell me where exactly. It’s all terribly hush-hush.”

  “Where is she normally?”

  “Scotland.”

  Chris frowned. “I didn’t know we had bases in Scotland.”

  “Coming from the colonies as you do, I’m not very surprised,” Miles said, pulling out his cigarette case.

  “Hey, I’m helping you poor slugs out, aren’t I?” Chris pointed out good-naturedly.

  “So very kind, I’m sure.” Miles lit a cigarette. “She writes that it’s bound to be gloomy. She says there’s a hospital nearby for pilots and for me to drop in if I get in a jam.”

  “Very hospitable of her.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  Before Chris could answer, a bread roll hit him on the back of the head. Getting up quickly, he picked it up from the bar and chucked it back towards the group at the other end. It bounced off Slippy’s shoulder and Miles grabbed his pint, diving out of the way as another roll flew by. The barmaid squealed and ducked behind the counter as bread began to fly and bodies began to crash into each other. Miles swallowed the rest of his bitter and ducked out of the way as Chris flew past his shoulder to catch another bread roll. Three pilots charged after him, turning the food fight into an impromptu game of rugby in the nearly deserted pub.

  He waited until Rob was almost on top of Chris, then stuck his foot out in front of him. Rob went down and the other two pilots lost their balance and piled on top of him. Abandoning his empty glass on the bar, Miles held his hands up with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Chris grinned and threw the roll to him.

  Grabbing it, Miles began running in the opposite direction as the others pulled themselves up from the pile and charged after him.

  Chapter Seven

  ––––––––

  Oslo, Norway

  November 4, 1939

  Evelyn looked up at the tall building before her and then moved towards the door on the ground floor. She was in a fairly quiet street, just a block from the busy Bygdøy Allé. Located in Olso’s West End, the area was quiet and exclusive, setting her nerves at ease. If nothing else went according to plan on her first visit to Norway, at least her temporary living quarters appeared to be in a neighborhood similar to what she was used to.

  Before she reached the door, it opened and a stocky man of medium height stared at her from under bushy brows.

  “Du er yngre enn jeg trodde du ville være. Og du er sen,” he said without ceremony, pinning her with a fierce look.

  Evelyn swallowed. She had no idea what he was saying, or if he was even someone she had to be concerned about. She was just opening her mouth to ask if he spoke English or perhaps German when an older woman emerged from behind him, clucking in apparent disgust.

  “La henne være i fred, Josef. Du vet at hun ikke skjønner norsk!” she rebuked him. Then, smiling at Evelyn, she wiped her hands on the apron covering her skirt and held out her hand. “Don’t mind my husband,” she said in halting English. “Welcome. You must be the journalist from London. Come in! We’ve been expecting you.”

  The woman ushered her into the house, past her husband, and showed her into a small parlor.

  “My name is Else and this is my husband, Josef,” she said, motioning to the man who followed them in. “We run this boarding house.”

  “I’m Maggie Richardson,” Evelyn introduced herself. “I’m sorry I don’t speak Norwegian. Does your husband speak German? I’m quite fluent.”

  “He does indeed, and he also speaks a little English. He was being contrary just now,” the woman told her, shooting her husband another reproachful look. “He means nothing by it. He’s been waiting for you and was surprised at how young you are, that is all.”

  Evelyn wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she nodded, smiled and offered the man a sheepish shrug.

  “Never mind, dear. Is this your only luggage? Josef will take it up to your room. Come. We show you.”

  Else turned to bustle out of the parlor and towards a flight of stairs across from the entranceway while Josef picked up Evelyn’s two bags and waited for her to follow his wife.

  “How was your trip? You come by boat, yes?” the woman asked conversationally as she led the way up the old wooden stairs. Though aged, they were spotless and the walls were painted a bright and cheerful white.

  “Yes. We hit a bit of a storm on the crossing, which set us behind a bit, but nothing serious.”

  “Do you suffer from sea sickness?”

  “No, thank goodness.”

  “You’re very lucky. The North Sea can be very rough. I don’t mind it, but Josef gets ill.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and Else led her down a wide hallway to a door on the left. She opened it and went inside.

  “Here you are. I hope you find everything comfortable.”

  Evelyn stepped into a large, well-appointed room with a four-poster bed and large bay window overlooking the street. One wall was dominated by a large hearth and she was grateful to see a fire blazing, casting heat and soft light into the room.

  “Oh, it’s lovely!” she exclaimed, turning around and taking in the floral bedspread and cheerful wallpaper. A desk stood near the window, and a chair was placed near the fire. While the room was sparsely furnished, it was clean and welcoming.

  Else glowed with pleasure.

  “I’m glad you like it. We started the fire for you so you would be comfortable. Josef will keep wood in the bin and there are matches on the mantle.” She watched as Josef set the bags on the floor near the wardrobe. “You’ll want to freshen up, and so we leave you now. Come down when you are settled and I’ll give you directions around the city. It’s quite simple, and the tram will take you most places you need to go.”

  “Thank you.”

  Else nodded and gave a final smile before herding her husband out of the room. Once the door closed behind them, Evelyn removed her hat and tossed it onto the bed, undoing the buttons on her coat. Her gloves joined the hat and she took off the heavy, warm coat, draping it across the foot of the bed. She crossed the floor to stand before the roaring fire, holding her hands out to the warmth while she looked around the room.

  She would be comfortable here, she decided. It was clean and overlooked the street. Else seemed nice and friendly, even if her husband was unusually quiet.

  Yes. This would do nicely.

  A man in a long dark coat looked up from his perusal of a selection of newspapers and glanced out the storefront window. A tram rolled by the small shop and he checked his watch before turning to pay for the newspaper in his hand. After a halting conversation with the young man behind the counter,
he turned to leave with the paper tucked under his arm. Stepping into the street, he pulled on his gloves and turned the collar of his coat up against the brisk, cold blast of wind that howled down the street.

  He turned to walk along the pavement, following the path of the tram car. A few minutes later, he emerged onto Thomas Heftyes Gate, a road that had the honor of hosting several different foreign powers, of which the British Embassy was one. He looked at his watch again and crossed the road to the opposite side of the embassy. It was coming up for the dinner hour and soon many of the staff would be departing for the day. His own embassy was a few blocks away, closer to the water, and he’d spent most of his morning there. He had gone out to stretch his legs after lunch and had no intention of returning that day. He had other business to attend to.

  After looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind him, the man moved into the shadows of the fence that surrounded the Finnish Embassy. He quickened his pace and strode to the end of the block where a side street intersected the road. A moment later, he disappeared around the corner. After going a few feet, he crossed the street and went into the garden of a large, private residence. The house was a sprawling three-story affair surrounded by heavily landscaped gardens and trees.

  After pausing behind an ancient, thick-trunked tree, the man cast a look around and moved to his left, staying along the outer perimeter of the property. Completely concealed from the street by the trees, he moved freely to the corner of the garden before turning to move along the far side. After another few moments, he came to a stop and cast another look around. Finding himself completely alone, he moved forward until he had a clear view of the British Embassy across the street.

  Checking his watch yet again, he settled in to wait.

  Evelyn nodded in thanks to the young man holding the door open for her and walked into a small but cheerful office. A man rose from behind a cluttered desk and came around with a smile, holding out his hand.

  “Miss Richardson? I’m Daniel Carew. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance!”

  “Hello!” She took the offered hand. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment,” she added for the benefit of the assistant who had escorted her through the labyrinth corridors.

  “Not a’tall! Not a’tall!” Daniel motioned her to a comfortable leather seat across from his desk. “May I offer you some tea?”

  “No thank you. I won’t stay long. I know you’re a busy man. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  Daniel nodded a dismissal to the young man and he withdrew, closing the door silently. Once he was gone, Daniel turned his attention to Evelyn, eyeing her curiously.

  “So you’re Bill’s newest recruit,” he said, going back to the seat behind his desk. “How was the trip here? Not too unpleasant, I hope?”

  “No,” Evelyn said, setting her purse on the chair next to her. “We hit some rough weather, but in all it was an uneventful crossing.”

  “And how are you finding Oslo?”

  She gave a short laugh. “Very different,” she admitted. “And very cold.”

  That drew a laugh from him and he sat back in his chair.

  “The cold takes some getting used to,” he said. “You’ll just start to adjust and it will be time for you to leave again. Did you find the boarding house all right? Are you all settled in?”

  “I did, thank you. The Kolstad’s are very kind.”

  He nodded. “We send quite a bit of business their way, with one thing and another. A word of warning, though: they rent rooms to a number of people from various backgrounds. Don’t get too comfortable, and for God’s sake don’t talk freely to anyone. I wouldn’t trust most of their boarders as far as I could throw them.”

  Evelyn nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Now that’s not to say you can’t trust them,” Daniel continued. “Else and Josef are firmly in our camp, but they do rent rooms to those who are not. If you run into trouble, have no hesitation in reaching out to them for help. They’ll assist you in any way they can.”

  “Even Josef?” Evelyn asked with a grin.

  Daniel chuckled.

  “Don’t let his bark frighten you. He’s as reliable as they come.” He sat forward and opened the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a long envelope. “Now then, I know Bill gave you press credentials and identification before you left. I have some additional temporary passes here. They will allow you access to some of the press spots here in Oslo that are reserved for foreign correspondents. Something I think you should be aware of is that there are several German correspondents here. There’s a conference at one of the firms in the city and, as a result, there are quite a few scientists that have come from around Europe. Several of them are from Berlin, and so we also have an increased presence from the Goebbels Propaganda Ministry. I understand you speak German?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You’ll want to go where you are in the best position to overhear what you can. These will place you there.” He passed the envelope across the desk to her. “As far as any of them will be concerned, you are just another face in the constantly rotating carousel of foreign journalists. Your appearance will help you. All the newspapermen love an attractive young woman.”

  “But I’m not here to mix with the Germans,” she objected, taking the envelope. “I’m here to—”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Daniel sat back again and waved her budding concerns away. “And I shall pass on your arrival to Comrade Shustov. Until he makes contact, though, why not see what you can pick up from the foreign correspondents? It certainly won’t hurt.”

  Evelyn nodded slowly. He was right. If she was able to glean any information from the Germans, it could only help.

  “How long do you think it will be before Shustov makes contact?”

  He shrugged. “I have not the faintest idea. It could be tomorrow; it could be next week. I think we’re all hoping for the former. As soon as he does, and you get the package, you can bring it here to me for safe keeping, if you like. After losing it once, we don’t want to run the risk of one Else’s boarders taking it from your room.”

  Evelyn’s lips tightened imperceptibly. While she knew Daniel probably had no idea that it was her father who had lost the package, the reminder of the failure struck a bitter note with her.

  “And, of course, that goes also for anything you may pick up from the Nazis,” he continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “If all goes well, you’ll have quite a packet to take back with you.”

  “And how shall I get it to you? If all goes well?”

  “Oh, we’ll set up an appointment. If you have something to bring me, send a messenger over in the morning. Then come at lunchtime when most of the building is away. Say, twelve-thirty?”

  “And no one will think that strange?”

  “My dear, this is Oslo, not Moscow. We’re not skulking around in the shadows just yet,” he said humorously.

  Evelyn felt her cheeks go warm.

  “I’m sorry. The last time I did anything like this, I ran head-first into a Nazi Untersturmführer of the Security Service,” she told him. “I suppose I’m rather expecting more of the same.”

  “Good Lord, did you really?” Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Where?”

  “In Strasbourg.”

  “Well, I’m fairly sure you won’t run into any here. At least, not the Security Service. Nazis, yes. Abwehr, most definitely. But you’re highly unlikely to encounter any SS or SD.”

  “That’s a relief, in any event,” she said with a smile. “It’s not an experience I’m in a hurry to repeat.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you are.” Daniel studied her for a moment. “If you do run into any unpleasantness, let me know, but I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  Evelyn nodded and stood, tucking the envelope into her purse. He stood with her and came around the corner of the
desk.

  “I’ll alert your Russian friend that you’ve arrived,” he said. “Beyond that, let me know when you have something and I’ll arrange for your return trip. Remember, if you get something you can’t conceal easily, bring it here for safekeeping.”

  She nodded and held out her hand. “I will.”

  “Best of luck to you, Miss Richardson.”

  When the blonde woman exited the embassy, the man in the garden across the street straightened up. She was wearing a long, thick navy coat with a matching hat that was made for the cold weather. Even so, the outerwear had the stamp of high quality and appeared to be in the latest fashion. He watched as she stood on the pavement and pulled on her gloves before turning to walk down the street, her purse hooked over her arm.

  The man pressed his lips together thoughtfully, waiting until she reached the corner before emerging from the garden. The woman was nothing like what he’d been expecting. She was young and pretty, and obviously accustomed to moving in greater circles than the agents he was used to seeing.

  She turned the corner a block away, disappearing from view, and the man crossed the road to follow. How on earth had she ended up here? She looked like she would be more suited to hosting dinners for a diplomatic husband than to visiting Oslo and meeting with the likes of Daniel Carew. The whole situation was very intriguing. He picked up his pace, rounding the corner a moment later.

  She had already crossed the next side street and was on her way to Drammensveien, the busier road in the distance. Undoubtedly, she was heading for the bus stop there. He had plenty of time. The next bus wasn’t due for ten minutes. She would reach the stop well ahead of it, and there was no fear of him losing her on the bus.

  Turning his collar up against the wind, he pulled his hat down low over his face and lowered his head. The temperature, not very high to begin with, was dropping rapidly. Oslo in November was not his favorite place, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to follow the Englishwoman, winter or not.