by CW Browning
“There couldn’t be a worse time for this,” he muttered. “How many trains to Norway?”
“Two. But there are five more that go to other stations in Sweden where a connecting train can be caught to Oslo,” Otto told him.
“So seven altogether?” Renner looked at his watch. “What time does the next one leave?”
When there was no answer immediately forthcoming, he shot a look at Otter. That man looked uncomfortable.
“I...I don’t know.” As storm clouds formed on his superior’s brow, he turned hurriedly towards the ticket booth. “I’ll find out now.”
Renner watched him go in disbelief. They had taken the time at least to find out what trains went to Norway, but none of them had thought to get the times? Unbelievable! After glancing at his watch again, he started to make his way through the crowds, searching for a tall, dark-haired woman. There were any number of them, but none were the one from the hotel. And looking for a blonde woman was out of the question, he decided after a few moments. He was standing in a sea of light-haired women, all about the right height. It would be impossible to examine them all.
“Herr Sturmbannführer Renner!”
He swung around, watching as Otto pushed through the crowds towards him.
“It’s leaving now!” he gasped, joining him. “From track seven. Direct to Oslo.”
Renner turned and scanned the platform entrances, searching for the one that led to track seven.
“This way!” Otto said, motioning for him to follow. “It’s on this side.”
Renner followed him quickly as he pushed his way through the crowds, leaving exclamations of anger in his wake. Ignoring them, the two men half-ran to the entrance. Wide, shallow steps led down to the platform and Renner bolted ahead of him, his coat flaring out around his legs as he descended rapidly to the underground platform. He was halfway down when he heard the conductor call the last boarding call.
“Schnell!” He threw over his shoulder as Otto huffed after him, his face turning red from the exertion. “It’s the last boarding call!”
He reached the bottom of the stairs and ran along the short, wide corridor towards the platform ahead. The whistle blew just as he emerged onto the empty platform and he let out a string of curses at the sight of the train pulling away from the platform.
“Too late!” Otto gasped, stopping next to him and staring at the train pulling away. “Did you see her?”
“Nein.” Renner turned away as the train began to pick up speed.
“Perhaps she’s not on it,” Otto suggested breathlessly. “There are other trains.”
Herr Renner nodded and began to walk back towards the stairs. Suddenly he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise and he swung around, nearly plowing into Otto as he did so. With a scowl, he pushed him out of the way and took a few steps towards the departing train. The front had already left the station and the back was just sliding by when he saw her.
She was in the second-to-last car, staring at them. As the car flew by them, she raised a hand to her lips and blew him a kiss, her lips curving in what could only be described as an impish grin.
Chapter Twenty-Six
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Evelyn stood on the deck, her hands deep in her pockets, with a strong, bitter wind whipping at her hair. The sun had set and the sky was clear, sparkling with thousands of bright stars. If it weren’t for the cold, it would be a lovely night on the water. A fierce shudder went through her and she burrowed her chin into her coat as she watched the coast, glittering with lights, slip by. They were moving through what looked to be a sound now, with small, coastal islands on either side. If she looked to her left, she could see the port in the distance with the lights of Stockholm shining brightly. When she looked to the right, she saw more lights dotting the horizon as the ship made its way towards the Baltic Sea.
Another shudder went through her, but Evelyn ignored it. She couldn’t go back to her cabin until she knew she was safely away. The city was still just too close for comfort.
A young sailor stood a few feet away and he kept glancing at her as she stood at the railing, watching the land slide by. He must have thought she was absolutely insane. She was the only passenger on the deck. The cold, frigid wind had already driven the others inside to where it was warm and they had access to a light supper. Her stomach had ceased rumbling long ago, but she supposed she would have to go in and eat something soon.
“Ursäkta mig, är du inte kall?”
She turned in surprise as the young sailor addressed her, a friendly smile on his face.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Swedish,” Evelyn said in French, shrugging apologetically.
Instead of looking confused at the language, the young man visibly brightened.
“You’re French!” he exclaimed in kind, a grin breaking across his face. “So am I! I’m from Marseilles!”
Evelyn smiled. “My family is from Paris.”
“I haven’t spoken to another Frenchman in over six months,” the young man said, moving closer. “My name is Lucas,” he added, shoving his hand out.
“I’m Clare.” She pulled her hand out of her pocket to shake the offered hand, then shoved it back in quickly as another violent shudder went through her.
“You’re cold,” he said unnecessarily. “It’s very cold tonight. Why don’t you go inside where it’s warm? You’ll get sick out here.”
“I just want to watch until we get to the sea,” she said, nodding to the passing coastline. “I love to watch the lights go by.”
“I suppose I’m used to it,” Lucas said, following her gaze. “How long were you in Sweden?”
“A few weeks. I was visiting an old school friend,” Evelyn lied smoothly. “I wasn’t due to leave until next week, but I received word that my grand-mère is ill.”
“And so you grabbed passage on the first ship you could,” he said with a nod. “We dock at Copenhagen, but there are always liners coming in and out of port. You should be able to get passage relatively quickly.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“You really shouldn’t be out here without at least a scarf. Do you have one?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head. Then, after a moment of thought, he patted her arm.
“Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”
Evelyn watched her new acquaintance turn and hurry along the deck to a door, disappearing inside. She smiled faintly and turned back to look at the lights. They were getting more sporadic now and further away as the ship got closer to the sea. It was nice to talk to someone in a civilized language, she reflected. Anna had been lovely, of course, but it was comforting to hear French again.
The smile faded as she thought of Anna. Had she reached the train in time? Had she managed to lose Herr Renner and his thugs? Evelyn hadn’t liked leaving her to play the part of the decoy alone, but Anna had insisted. As soon as she found out that Evelyn could contact the embassy and get out of Stockholm, there had been no swaying her. She had quite logically pointed out that the Germans could hardly detain her. She was Norwegian and, not only was Norway neutral in the war, but she had done nothing except accompany a new friend to Sweden. There was absolutely nothing they could do except threaten her. And, Anna had said with a martial glint her eyes, she’d just like to see them try.
In the end, Evelyn had agreed, knowing that it was paramount that she get out of Sweden with her intelligence. She never mentioned the Soviet agent to Anna. Her new friend had enough to worry about with Herr Renner. The other one would just complicate things needlessly. After all, her Russian Comrade had never seen Anna. He was no threat to her.
As they ran around the city gathering the supplies they needed to stage a performance for the SD, Anna had been a great help to her. She was able to procure almost everything Evelyn needed to change her ap
pearance while Evelyn sent a telegram to Horace Manchester at the embassy and another one to Daniel Carew in Oslo. Then, while Evelyn was closeted in a restroom at the back of a cafe darkening her blonde hair until it was almost black, she went to purchase appropriate clothing. When she returned, Evelyn couldn’t have been happier. Everything the other woman had selected was perfect, right down to the black-rimmed spectacles she’d got for herself. In fact, Evelyn admitted now, she couldn’t have done it without Anna.
“Here. Take this.”
Lucas was back beside her, holding out a long, thick scarf. Evelyn looked at him in surprise.
“I couldn’t!”
“Yes, please do! I have two, and you need this more than I do. It’s long, so you can wrap it around your head, and it’s very warm. Take it.”
“Thank you very much. It’s very kind of you!” She took it and began to wrap it around her neck and head. “You must let me give you some money for it!”
“No, no. I don’t need money for it. Just think of me when you wear it and offer up a prayer for my safe return to our beloved France,” he said with a grin.
Evelyn finished wrapping it around herself and sighed in relief. The heavy wool was very warm indeed, and it blocked the harsh wind from whipping down inside her coat.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she breathed with a smile. “Thank you so much!”
He nodded and grinned, then turned to leave again.
“I have to get back to my station. Don’t stay out here too much longer. Even with that scarf, you’ll be frozen soon!”
Evelyn nodded and turned to look at the coastline in the distance as Lucas left, her hands back in her pockets. Anna had to be on the train by now. She should be on her way back to Oslo, where she would once again be safe. Evelyn wished there was a way to know if she made it safely back, but she would have to wait until she reached England to know for sure. In the meantime, all she could do was hope and pray that everything had gone according to their hastily conceived plan.
As the last stretch of coastline slid by, Evelyn finally turned away from the railing and turned to go inside. She had made it safely away. She could get something to eat and then go to her room and sleep in relative peace. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about how she was going to make it back to England.
Tonight it was enough that she had escaped.
Comrade Grigori strode through the lobby of The Strand, his face folded into a scowl. The Englishwoman was gone, and so was her companion. He’d followed the other woman to the station, where he watched as she joined the crowds of commuters. He’d been able to keep track of her easily enough until she went into the ladies’ washroom. While he waited for her to come out again, he had ample time to examine his options. He would follow her to the train in case the Englishwoman was waiting for her there, but he knew it was unlikely. The Englishwoman would have realized that the Germans would follow the other woman. In fact, that was probably the reasoning behind this whole trip to the station. The other woman was probably a decoy, distracting the SD agents while the Englishwoman made her escape by a different route. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t.
And so he’d still been there when the dark-haired woman emerged from the washroom several minutes later. She had looked around cautiously, then moved quickly into the crowds. A few minutes later, they emerged onto a train platform just as the conductor was calling for the last passengers. She boarded the train alone, with no sign of the Englishwoman anywhere in sight.
Grigori was ascending the stairs again when the tall SD agent from the hotel lobby had come tearing down them, a shorter man huffing to keep pace. The two hadn’t paid any attention to the other people on the stairs and certainly hadn’t noticed himself as they ran for the train. He’d gone to the top of the stairs and waited off to the side, watching. Not five minutes later, they were coming back and the tall one looked furious.
A small smile pulled at his lips now, lightening the scowl as he strode, not to the lift, but to the stairwell. At least the Germans had come up empty-handed as well.
Except he wasn’t empty-handed, he reminded himself as he started up the stairs. He may not have had to opportunity to question the British agent as he wanted, but he wasn’t returning to Moscow with nothing to show for his efforts. Moscow had sent him to find a traitor, and that was just what he’d done. He might not know how the Englishwoman had turned Comrade Niva, or even how she’d become acquainted with him, but now they knew who the leak was and could stop the flow.
The frown returned. What bothered him was how Niva had managed to access some of the information that had been released to the British. Much of it he could have obtained easily, but some would have been impossible for him get his hands on.
Grigori shook his head. He wished he could have interrogated the Englishwoman. She could have cleared up all these niggling little details that he knew would keep him awake for many nights to come.
Reaching the third floor, he went down the corridor to his room and unlocked the door, stepping inside. The door closed behind him and he slid the bolt home, then turned to cross the sitting room to a window overlooking the harbor. The lights of the palace glittered across the water and he sighed in contentment. It was a beautiful view, even if the palace itself was symbolic of everything decadent and corrupt in the West. After enjoying the view for a moment, he turned to switch on the lamp on the desk and froze.
“Good evening, Comrade Grigori,” Vladimir said calmly. He was seated in one of the armchairs with his legs crossed and his gloves laying across his knee. He’d unbuttoned his overcoat and looked completely at home. “You look well.”
“As do you, Comrade Lyakhov.” Grigori found his voice and began to remove his gloves. “I had no idea you were in Stockholm.”
Vladimir raised one eyebrow just a bit and a faint smile toyed with his lips.
“Didn’t you?” he asked, watching as Grigori tossed his gloves on the table and began removing his coat. “I’d have thought Comrade Yakov would have told you. You do know he’s here, yes?”
“Yes.” Grigori pulled off his coat and tossed it over the back of the love seat. “Please. Remove your coat and make yourself comfortable, my old friend. If you took the time to break into my room, you might as well take the time to remove your coat.”
Vladimir smiled and stood up to shrug out of the heavy garment.
“I’m afraid Yakov is getting sloppy in his aging years,” he said, carefully laying his coat over the back of his chair. “He’s not the ghost that he once was.”
Grigori shot him a glance under his brows and walked to a long console on the other side of the room where a bottle of schnapps sat with two glasses.
“No, he’s not,” he agreed. “When did you know he was there?”
“The first night in Oslo.” Vladimir seated himself again. “It wasn’t until the third night that I realized you were there as well.”
Grigori grunted and held up the bottle questioningly. “It’s not vodka, but it’s tolerable.”
“Thank you.”
He poured schnapps into both glasses and turned to carry them over to Vladimir, offering him a choice of glass. Vladimir took one and Grigori carried the other over to a chair and sat down.
“It wasn’t anything personal, you understand,” he said, sitting back.
“If I thought it was personal, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Vladimir replied dryly. “You would have disappeared in Norway.”
That drew a smile from the other man and he chuckled.
“You haven’t lost your fire, have you Vlad?”
Vladimir held up his glass. “I hope I never will.”
Grigori sipped his drink, then sighed and stretched his legs out. “Why are you here?”
Vladimir looked at him, surprised. “Why, to help you catch a traitor, of course.”
“And how do you propose to do tha
t?”
“I don’t propose anything. I have done it already.”
Grigori frowned and stared hard at him. “What do you mean?”
“You were in Gamla Stan this morning,” Vladimir said, crossing his legs again and sitting back comfortably. “You saw him with your own eyes. Comrade Niva met with a British agent. Now, unless he was authorized to do so by Moscow, I believe that’s grounds for treason, don’t you?”
“You were there?” Grigori asked quickly. “How do you know this?”
Vladimir shrugged. “Because I, also, have been trying to find the traitor in our midst.”
“You?” Grigori scowled. “Impossible.”
The smile that crossed Vladimir’s face was chilling. “Is it?”
“I would have been informed.”
“Would you?”
Grigori stared at him for a long moment in silence, then sipped his drink. It was true that the left hand often did not know what the right was doing. It was like that in Moscow, especially when suspicion mounted within their own ranks. Vladimir could very well have been instructed to hunt for the traitor while he was going about his own work. Furthermore, Grigori would not be surprised to find that he had been told to observe Vladimir as a fail-safe.
“We have no way of knowing that Comrade Niva arranged that meeting today,” he said finally. “We only have the evidence that he was in the same tavern as a British agent. We didn’t see them talking, unless you were inside. Were you inside?”
Vladimir shook his head. “No. I was in the building across the street.”
“There. Then all we have is that Niva was in the same place as a British agent. It is enough to allocate more manpower to watch him, but not enough to bring him back to Moscow. However, it will make Moscow happy that progress has been made.”
