by CW Browning
He went down the stairs to the hall again and handed the clerk the sealed envelope.
“Have this transmitted directly to Lord Montclair, in London,” he told him briskly. “His eyes only.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched the clerk hurry out the door and into the night before turning back to the stairs. His lips suddenly curved as he considered the situation. This was the second time that a simple, straight-forward mission had turned sideways on Evelyn. She really did appear to have the worst luck. The first time she had come through without a scratch, but that was before the war began.
The smile was gone as quickly as it appeared. Everything was different now. Both agents trailing her worked for countries that would not take kindly to a British agent in their midst. It was time to get her out of there.
He just hoped tomorrow would be in time.
Chapter Sixteen
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The Strand Hotel, Stockholm
November 9
Evelyn signed the registry at the desk and waited while the man checking them in went to a cabinet to get the key to their room. It was early afternoon and the lobby was empty save for a few guests wandering through on their way to the door, heading for the sights and sounds of the harbor. Anna had stopped at a vendor outside on their way in, lured by the sight of newspapers and cigarettes, promising that she would be right in.
“Here you are, Miss Richardson.” The man returned with the room key and a smile. “The lift is to the back. Would you like me to call a porter to carry your luggage?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He nodded and motioned to a porter. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
“Oh! There is one thing. Can you have a message delivered to the British embassy for me?” she asked.
“Of course. Would you like some paper?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He placed a pad of paper before her and handed her a pencil. “I’ll ensure it is delivered immediately.”
Picking up the pencil, Evelyn wrote a few lines on the paper and tore it off the pad. Then, folding the paper, she wrote a name across the front.
“Please have it delivered to Horace Manchester.”
“Of course.” He took the note and slipped it into an envelope, sealing it in front of her. “I’ll send it over right away.”
“Thank you very much.” Evelyn picked up her gloves and purse and smiled brightly. “I appreciate it.”
She turned from the desk as Anna came hurrying across the lobby, her heels clicking a rapid staccato on the tiled floor. She held a folded newspaper in her hand and her hair had partially slipped from under her hat in her haste.
“Maggie! You’ll never guess what’s happened!” she exclaimed breathlessly, coming up to the desk. She shoved the newspaper into Evelyn’s hands. “Someone tried to kill Adolf Hitler!”
“What?!”
Evelyn grabbed the paper and opened it to the black and white headline. She didn’t need to know Swedish to understand the headline: EXPLOSION MENADE FÖR HITLER.
“It says there was an explosion last night at the beer hall where he was speaking,” Anna told her, looking at the paper with her. “He speaks there every year on the anniversary of the Putsch. Last night, not ten minutes after he left, a bomb exploded behind the podium where he had been speaking, bringing half the roof down. A bunch of people were killed, but it says that there’s no doubt the bomb was meant for Hitler. His speech was supposed to be at nine, but they moved it up to eight so that the Führer could get back to Berlin. If he had started when originally planned, he would have been killed.”
Evelyn stared at the paper for a moment, trying to decipher some of the words for herself, then looked at Anna.
“Does it say anything about the person responsible?”
Anna shook her head. “No. They’re looking for them. They think the bomb was on a timer and put inside a stone column.”
The porter cleared his throat apologetically and, when both women looked at him, he motioned to Anna’s bags questioningly. She nodded and he picked them up along with Evelyn’s.
“How extraordinary,” Evelyn said, passing the paper back to Anna and turning to walk towards the lift. “I thought everyone loved him in Germany!”
“Not everyone, apparently.” Anna fell into step beside her. “Could you imagine if it succeeded? It was so close! Hitler had just left!”
“If it had succeeded, it certainly would have taken care of this war,” Evelyn said. “Pity. This could have all been over.”
“I’m sure that’s what the person who did this thought as well. I wonder if they’ll catch him?”
“I’m sure they will. The Gestapo are nothing if not efficient.”
Anna shot her a look as they stopped before the lift and the attendant opened the door and stood aside for them to step into the cage. The porter followed and once they were in, the attendant entered and pulled the grate closed. He said something in Swedish and Evelyn looked at Anna helplessly.
“He wants to know which floor,” she said with a grin. “Where are we going?”
“The fourth floor.”
Anna told the attendant and he nodded, putting the lift in motion. The ride was a quiet one as Evelyn and Anna dropped the topic of Hitler for the moment, choosing instead to watch the floors of the hotel go slowly by. It was a small lift and between the boy with the luggage and the attendant, there was very little room. Evelyn stood still, watching the floors, her mind spinning.
Someone had really tried to kill Hitler! While it was completely unexpected, she supposed it shouldn’t have been. Even though the press in Germany portrayed him as a beloved Führer, it stood to reason that there would be those who were less than enthusiastic. There always were. But to openly try to kill him? And the amazing thing was it would have worked! If he hadn’t moved his speech up an hour, it would be a very different world today. It would be a world on its way back to peace.
The lift came to a stop and the attendant opened the gate, nodding to them with a smile. Evelyn stepped out and looked at the porter. He nodded and led the way to the left, saying something over his shoulder.
“He says to follow him,” Anna said unnecessarily.
Evelyn looked at her. “I would never have guessed,” she said dryly.
Anna grinned. “You wanted an interpreter. I’m simply doing my job.”
“I wanted a companion as well,” Evelyn retorted, tucking her arm through hers. “And you’re doing that fabulously. Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m enjoying myself! This is a nice change from transcribing legal notes, I assure you.”
The porter stopped before a door and set two of the bags down so he could unlock it. Once the door was opened, he handed the key to Evelyn and picked up the bags.
“Oh! How lovely!” Anna exclaimed, following Evelyn into the room and looking around.
They had stepped into a very modern sitting room with two arm chairs, a love seat, and a table in the center. A set of French doors opened onto a narrow balcony, and an ornate desk stood to the side of the doors. On either side of the sitting room was a door leading to a bedroom.
The porter set the bags down and turned to leave. Evelyn murmured thank you in Swedish as he passed and he bobbed his head. A moment later, the door was closing softly behind him.
“The view is outstanding!” Anna exclaimed from across the room, opening the doors to step out onto the balcony. “Come and see!”
Evelyn smiled and walked across the room to where a cold breeze was blowing in.
“It’s freezing!”
“It’s not. It’s lovely! You’re just not used to it.” Anna gazed out over the water. “Well, perhaps it’s a bit brisk,” she admitted a second later as a gust of wind caught them in the face and she r
eached up to hold her hat on her head.
Evelyn laughed, shivering. The hotel overlooked the harbor. Directly across the water stood the Royal Palace, imposing and elegant in all its timeless grandeur. The sun glistened off the surface, making the waves look like moving, glittering glass, and Evelyn breathed deeply. It truly was a wonderful view.
“Stunning,” she said, turning to go back into the sitting room. “But too cold!”
Anna chuckled, shaking her head. After taking one last look across the water, she turned and went in, closing the doors behind her.
“I’ll tell you this: if this is how you travel, I’ll be your interpreter any time you like!” she said, taking off her hat and tossing it onto the table. “It’s marvelous! We even have our own rooms!”
“You can thank Daniel Carew for that,” Evelyn said, unbuttoning her coat and beginning to pull off her gloves. “He’s the one who made the reservation.”
“Perhaps I should take him up on his offer to come and work for him,” she said with a grin, undoing her coat and shrugging out of it. “He’s asked more than once.”
Evelyn removed her coat and turned to pick up her bags, heading for the door on the right.
“I can’t imagine this is the norm for embassy employees,” she said over her shoulder. “Never mind. You can enjoy it while you’re here.”
Anna followed her to the door, leaning against it as she watched Evelyn set her suitcase down and turn to place her smaller travel case on the dressing table.
“What did you mean when you said that the Gestapo were nothing if not efficient?” she asked suddenly.
Evelyn looked at her in surprise. “What?”
“The way you said it, it sounded as if you had personal experience with them. Have you?”
“No, thank heavens. I’ve heard stories, that’s all.” Evelyn dropped her gloves next to her case and turned to face Anna. “They’re the Nazi police. They must be good at it or they wouldn’t have the reputation they do.”
Anna made a face and straightened up from the door jam. “There’s a difference between being good at something and being a bully,” she muttered. “My brother says they’re all thugs.”
“Your brother?” Evelyn grasped at that, thankful to turn the conversation from herself and the Gestapo. “I didn’t know you had a brother!”
“Yes. He’s with the army up near Trondheim. His name is Erik.” Anna turned to leave the bedroom. “He likes to think he knows everything.”
“Don’t all brothers?” Evelyn demanded with a laugh before she could stop herself.
Anna picked up her cases and looked back at her.
“You sound as if you have one of your own,” she said. “Do you?”
“Yes. He’s in the RAF.” Evelyn glanced at her watch. “We just have time to get dressed for dinner,” she said, turning back into her room. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry!” Anna went across the sitting room to the opposite door. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
She disappeared into her room and the door closed behind her a moment later. Evelyn exhaled and closed her door, turning to lift her suitcase onto the bed. She didn’t like to speak about herself at all with strangers, not wanting to inadvertently give too much information that could be used against her. It was something that had been drilled into her in Scotland. The less anyone knew about you, the better. The comment about brothers had slipped out before she could think, and now Anna knew she had a brother. She supposed it didn’t really make a difference. Anna didn’t know her real name, or even where she was from. It was unlikely that that particular piece of trivia would mean anything to the woman other than to present something they had in common.
That was something else her training had drilled into her. Always try to establish something in common with contacts, something they could relate to. Not that Anna was a mark for information, but she was still a contact. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to build a relationship there. After all, who knew when she might have need of a friend in Norway?
Evelyn undid her case and opened it, pushing aside the nagging feeling of distaste at thinking of Anna in terms of how she could use her. The woman had come with her, miles from her home and into a different country, to act as an interpreter for her without question. If nothing else, she was certainly one of the most obliging females Evelyn had come across. She didn’t like lying to her.
Pulling a blue dinner dress out of the case, her lips curved despite herself. She wasn’t sure how much good the lying was actually doing with Anna, anyway. The woman already knew she wasn’t the journalist she was pretending to be, and had figured out that Maggie Richardson was not her name. Because she worked with Daniel Carew, Anna knew that Evelyn was an agent of some kind. Hopefully, she didn’t have a clear idea of exactly what kind.
The smile faded as she laid the dress on the bed next to the case. The story had to be maintained, but at this point both women knew the truth. The only question was why Anna had agreed to help her. Norway was a neutral country and, while England was their ally, they had made it clear that they wouldn’t break their neutrality in favor of any of the combating nations. Why, then, was Anna so willing to assist? Was it simply because she was familiar with Carew and had acted as a courier for him on occasion? Or was it something more? Evelyn remembered the look on Anna’s face that reminded her so forcibly of her feeling of uselessness just a short year ago, and she pressed her lips together thoughtfully.
With nothing to do until Vladimir made contact, she could focus on Anna. If she couldn’t figure out her motives by the time she left Sweden then she had no business working for MI6 at all. Her job was to gather information from both friendly and enemy sources.
And that was exactly what she was going to do.
––––––––
London, England
The traffic was steady, streaming around Piccadilly just as it always had. If anything, the war had increased the congestion in the late afternoon as everyone tried to finish their errands before nightfall and the blackout. The man stepped out of a shop and looked around before turning and heading towards the corner. Looking over his shoulder to the street, he spotted an available taxi and raised his umbrella to summon it, stepping to the curb. While he waited for it to maneuver its way to the side of the road, he glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time before his meeting. There was no rush.
The taxi stopped beside him and he got into the back. “Whitehall, please.”
“Sir.” The driver nodded and a moment later they were easing back into the flow of traffic.
The man looked out of the window, his lips tightening. He hadn’t meant to be away from the office this long. It was supposed to be a quick trip to the tailor after lunch and then back to work. Things were hectic around the building these days, and he didn’t like to be away for any longer than was necessary. This time, however, he’d had no choice. When the boy had pushed past him and shoved a grimy note into his hand, his return to the office had to be delayed. Which was why he was now in a cab, blocks away from the Foreign Ministry.
His face darkened as he watched the city go by. The message he retrieved at the shop in Piccadilly had been brief and to the point. They wanted the package; the package that he had assured them he would be able to deliver. They were getting impatient, and he really couldn’t blame them. They wanted to know where it was.
And so did he.
He’d been to Ainsworth Manor and searched the study thoroughly. There was no sign of the package there. He’d even managed to get into the library and searched that as well, but it was useless. The package was nowhere to be found. It was as if it had simply disappeared.
Yet, he knew that wasn’t the case. Robert Ainsworth would never have allowed it to be misplaced. He would have realized the value of what he’d come across, and he would have made sure it was secured. The most obvious place was his country seat, but he’d been
unable to locate it there. So, when the man returned to London, he had searched the Ainsworth house in Brook Street. That, too, had proved fruitless. And now he was stymied.
Where on earth had the old man stashed it? The man had thought it unlikely that Ainsworth had carried it with him when he went on that last, fateful trip to Poland, but perhaps he had. And if that was the case, heaven only knew where it was now. The room in Bern had been searched thoroughly by more than one country’s agency, and no one had found anything.
The man exhaled and peered through the front windshield as the cab slowed to a stop in traffic approaching Whitehall. After taking one look at the stopped traffic, he pulled some coins out of his pocket and passed one over the seat to the driver.
“Here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Are you sure? It’ll get moving again in a moment.”
“Yes. The fresh air will do me good. Thank you.”
The man climbed out of the car and started up the sidewalk. This whole situation was the result of him trying to make himself indispensable. Given the rash of failures lately, his standing was far from secure. He had thought presenting them with the package would be an easy way to cement himself as the perfect agent. Unfortunately, he hadn’t taken into account Robert Ainsworth and his love of intrigue. It really was infuriating.
The man strode through the afternoon crowds, his lips pressed into a thin line and his umbrella tapping on the pavement imperiously. He had to find the package. The message today had been very clear. He could buy himself a little bit of time, but it would have to be found and passed on to them. The only way he was getting himself out of this without the package was if he managed to land something bigger and more important, and that wasn’t looking very likely at this point. Not with the way things were going in the government at the moment.
No. It had to be the package. And it had to be sooner rather than later. If Ainsworth hadn’t left it in either of his own residences, the only other possibility was that he’d entrusted it to someone else’s care. While that had seemed impossible a few days ago, now the man considered the prospect with new eyes as he crossed a driveway. Who would the old man have left it with? Who on earth would he have trusted enough to leave a package that could have far reaching effects for the security of the British Commonwealth?
