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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.
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.
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.
