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As she got out of the car, Evelyn looked around the Paris street and felt almost befuddled. She’d only been away four days, yet the entire city was different. The usual cheerful bustle that she knew so well was gone. It was like driving through some kind of macabre model of Paris, one that was a mirror image of what it should be, but was not. Gone was the carefree spirit of the City of Lights. In its place was a surreal undercurrent of tension, evident in the hastened movements of what few people were out and about, moving around the city. Shops and cafés were sparsely populated, the amount of vehicles in the wide avenues was half what she was used to, and the pedestrians hurrying along the pavements looked harried and grim as they went on their way. This wasn’t the Paris she knew so well. This was a strange shell of a city that was desperately trying to remain calm in the face of the impending invasion.
“It’s different, isn’t it?” Josephine asked, joining her and seeing the look on her face. “I haven’t spent a lot of time in Paris, but even I can see the change.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Fleeing south.” Josephine hooked her arm through hers and led her across the sidewalk to the door of a tall apartment building. “We went to dinner last night when we arrived and the waiter told us that people have been packing up and leaving in droves since Sedan fell.”
Evelyn paused and glanced back at the street as a car drove slowly by, laden with boxes and suitcases that had been strapped to the roof.
“Where do they think they will go?” she wondered, almost to herself. “There is nowhere to go.”
“I know.” Josephine followed her gaze. “I think they are simply trying to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.” She looked at Evelyn. “Is this how it was in Brussels?”
Evelyn shrugged and followed her through the door. “It was more chaotic. Bombs were falling on the city outskirts, so there was panic. Some people were leaving without anything, and others were trying to take everything they could carry. The entire atmosphere was different.”
“Paris doesn’t seem to be in a panic. At least, not yet. Right now it seems simply resigned.”
“Exactly.”
Evelyn followed Josephine up a flight of wooden steps. The apartment building was modest, but seemed clean. The walls were covered in fairly new paper and the steps were swept clean of any dust. While she wasn’t familiar with this section of the city, Evelyn was relieved that it appeared respectable and safe. When Josephine had mentioned a modest apartment, she hadn’t known quite what to expect.
“Whose apartment is this?” she asked.
“It belongs to a nice lady who is currently in Spain. Somewhere in the south, I believe. She allows me to use it when I’m in Paris, but as I said, I don’t come very often.”
“Who is she?”
“A friend of my Tante Elizabeth.” Josephine stopped outside a door and unlocked it, pushing it open. “She’s always been very fond of my father. When she heard that I was traveling quite a bit, she offered it to me.”
“Does your Tante Elizabeth know what you do?”
“Goodness, no. She’d never approve. She thinks I’m a student, studying botany.”
“Botany!” Evelyn looked at her in amusement and Josephine grinned, motioning her into the apartment.
“Yes. Studying plants takes me all over France.”
Evelyn couldn’t stop a chuckle. “Well, that would certainly be true. What an ingenious idea! Do you like plants and gardening, then?”
“I do, actually. I used to keep a wonderful garden at my father’s house near Lyons, but that was a few years ago now.” Josephine closed the door and looked around. “Well, this is it. It’s not very large, but it’s clean and comfortable. This is the sitting room, and the kitchen is through there. If you come this way, there is a hallway to lead to the bedrooms. There are only two, but I’m in the larger one and there is plenty of room for both of us.”
“And Finn?”
“He’ll be along when he’s parked the car. Are you hungry?”
“No, but I’d love some coffee.”
“I’ll make some. I bought the last can at the store last night. Here’s the bedroom. The washroom is through there. I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up after your flight. How was it, by the way?”
“We had to change routes twice to avoid the Luftwaffe. The first time was a squadron of fighters, and the second was a group of bombers.”
“Where?”
Evelyn glanced at her as she set her suitcase down next to the bed. “Over Dijon, and again between there and Paris. The pilot thought they may have been coming from the area of Nancy.”
Josephine swallowed and nodded, her face a little pale. “I’m glad you were able to avoid them. I’ll go start the coffee.”
She left and Evelyn watched her go, a wave of empathy going over her. She’d been taken aback and sobered by the difference in Paris alone, but Josephine was watching it happen all over her country. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain, anger, and fear that her friend was experiencing. Her government had let her down, and now the Nazis were in France, moving to take complete control.
Turning away from the door, Evelyn looked around the bedroom. As Josephine had said, it was a large room with a double bed, a dresser, and vanity table and stool. She picked up the suitcase and set it on the bed, undoing the straps. There was no point in unpacking, but she would change into something that wasn’t travel-creased and brush her hair. Once she’d freshened up a bit, she would feel more like herself and would be able to think clearly. The first order of business was to send a message to London and alert Bill to the fact that the German troops were moving to the coast. She would include what little information she had, such as the bomber and fighter formations, but she didn’t imagine it would do much good at this point. Le Havre was out of the question now, and she would tell him as much. Their best option at this point was to go south, along with everyone else leaving Paris.
A frown settled over her brow as she pulled out a pair of wide-legged pants and a blouse. If the roads were clogged with refugees, it would be difficult to make it anywhere in any kind of timely fashion. She would be at the mercy of the traffic, just as they had been in Belgium. Evelyn remembered well the frustration of inching along roads that were packed with pedestrians, vehicles, horses, and carts. If that was to be the case here, she had no idea how long it would take to make her way south. She paused and lifted her head suddenly as a thought occurred to her. She was assuming she would have a car. They couldn’t expect Josephine to let them have her car. How on earth was she going to go south without a car?
Evelyn’s heart sank as she gathered her clothes and turned to go to the door. As she crossed the hallway to the bathroom, she chewed on her bottom lip. She supposed they might be able to find a couple of bicycles, but it was far from ideal. Still, if it was the only way to make it out of France, they would have to do whatever they could.
She just hoped they would make it. She’d escaped a German invasion twice now. How long would her luck hold? How long could she expect it to hold? And what would happen if she didn’t make it out this time?
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A tall man climbed behind the wheel of a sedan and sat for a moment, staring across the meadow adjacent to the airfield with a scowl. He’d been on his way back to the car when the black sedan had come racing up the entrance road to the small airfield, drawing his attention. He hadn’t intended on staying to see who was in such a hurry to get to the airfield, but that changed when he caught sight of the driver as the car barreled past the outer building where he was standing. It was a face that he knew by sight, if not by name. He’d met him only once, in Berlin before the war, on one of the few occasions that he’d been ordered to attend a formal dinner. He couldn’t recall the name at the moment, although he had no doubt that it would come to him, but he never forgot a face. He couldn’t afford to. His life and success depended upon it.
And that face was, he knew, the face of their coveted spy in the heart of the British government.
The man knew beyond any shadow of doubt that the spy would never remember him. Few ever did. Even back then, he had worked hard to ensure that nothing stood out or called attention to himself. His entire career had been built on his ability to be invisible. He was Eisenjager, the assassin that was more myth than man. Most had no idea he existed, save for the men and women he dispatched with ruthless efficiency. No. Even if the man in the black sedan had noticed him, he would never be able to identify him. His cover was still intact.
Eisenjager drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, staring across the countryside without seeing any of it. He wasn’t concerned about his ability to catch up with Jian. He’d done it before. He had a mental note of the registration of the vehicle she was in, and knew he would be able to track her down without too much fuss. No. What concerned him now was the presence of one of Himmler’s moles. What was the spy doing here? Why was he looking for Jian, whom Eisenjager himself was under orders to eliminate? And how had he discovered that she was returning to France today? So many questions, and none of them were easily answered.
When the English spy had disappeared from Marle without a trace, Eisenjager had been furious. Not only had he lost his Belgian target, but also the elusive Jian, the woman who had evaded him in Norway weeks ago. His lips tightened as he reached down to turn the ignition key. It was all due to the incompetence of the SD. He couldn’t even completely lay the blame for the botched job at Hans Voss’ feet, although he would like nothing more, because the Obersturmbannführer had been just as much in the dark as he had been himself. He hadn’t known who the woman was until he saw her in person, at the same time that Eisenjager realized who she was. Whether Voss’ superiors in the SD had known the identity of their wanted courier was merely an academic question at this point. Because of their ineptitude, Eisenjager had lost not only his immediate target, but the spy he’d been hunting since he last saw her in Namsos.
He pulled out of his spot behind one of the smaller buildings and turned his car towards the road. When Voss had been ordered back to Berlin, Eisenjager had contacted his own handler in Hamburg. After apprising him of the situation, he’d received orders to remain in France and locate both the Belgian and the woman. His orders remained unchanged. They were both targets, and he was expected to eliminate them with all the expediency that he was known for. And so his hunt had begun again.
He’d managed to track them to Paris, but once there, even his skill failed him. It was too large of a city, and he had absolutely nothing to go on. After spending two days searching in Paris, he’d tried the airfield outside the city. He hadn’t been expecting to find anything of value. Instead, he’d learned that a small passenger plane carrying a single female had departed for Switzerland just that morning. The description had confirmed that he’d just missed Jian.
Eisenjager was nothing if not a patient man. Knowing that she’d gone to Switzerland, he debated following, but ultimately decided to remain in France. Given the advance of the German troops on all fronts, her departure from the mountain region would have to follow a limited flight plan. She would have to return to England either by way of France, or Spain. If she returned before France fell, she would undoubtedly go through France. It was inherently quicker, and if Jian was on the move, she would want to reach England sooner rather than later. If what everyone said was true, she was carrying several documents that the SD wanted back. She wouldn’t risk them falling back into her enemy’s hands now.
And so he had waited, and watched. He became friendly with several workers at the airfield, and gleaned information from them about the types of aircraft that came through daily. He learned that the small passenger plane that carried her to Switzerland made frequent stops at the airfield, always with different passengers. They believed its home airfield was in England, but no one could be sure. On the rare occasions that the pilots didn’t refuel and depart immediately, they never discussed anything other than the airplane itself. And they never stayed more than a few hours. It all amounted to one thing as far as he was concerned: the airplane was transporting men and women into Europe and back again. Only MI6 would have that kind of standing operation, and it further confirmed his belief that Jian would come back into France before making her way to England.
This morning, his patience had been rewarded when he watched her climb out of the passenger plane and accept a suitcase from the pilot. He had watched her leave with the couple in the gray sedan, noting the registration of the vehicle before turning to make his way to his own car. He had recognized the man, at least. He’d been surprised to see him get out of the car and take Jian’s suitcase. The last thing he’d heard about him was that he was somewhere in Holland after escaping from the Sudetenland. He was someone the Reich wanted back, and he would be sure to mention him in his next transmission. But what was he doing in France?
The woman was a mystery, but he had no doubt that she was part of the French network. She was a much more likely companion to the English spy than the man. But where was the Belgian? The man called Jens? Eisenjager shook his head and pulled onto the long road that would take him into Paris. The only way to discover that was to find Jian in Paris, and he would have to do it before the German spy did.
The scowl returned to his face. He had no intention of allowing that to happen. The bloody SD had caused enough disruption for him in the past week. They weren’t going to get in his way again, even if that meant removing their man from the equation all together.
The Englishwoman wouldn’t escape again.
London
Bill reached for the ringing telephone without lifting his eyes from the latest report from France. One of his agents had sent it through this morning and he was just now getting to read it. The news was grim to say the least. Located just outside Metz, the agent was able to describe in detail the assault the German forces were waging on the border.
“Yes?” he answered impatiently.
“Am I interrupting?” Jasper asked dryly.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I’m just reading a report from France.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.” Bill sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “What can I do for you? I thought you were going to lunch with the prime minister.”
“I am. They’re bringing the car around. I just heard something I think you should know. It will be in the afternoon brief, but I thought I’d ring you and give you a heads up.”
“Oh? More good news?”
“I’m afraid so.” Jasper cleared his throat. “It may not be as hopeless as it seems, mind you. Winston still has great hope.”
“Winston is getting paid to have great hope, and to ensure that the country keeps the faith accordingly,” Bill said tiredly, dropping his hand. “What is it? Let’s get it over with.”
“Commander General Gort ordered a withdrawal of all troops in Belgium and Northern France to the port cities this morning. They’ve been completely outflanked, and the latest reports say that Guderian will reach the Channel by tomorrow, at the latest. Communications will be cut off between our forces in the north and the French forces in the south. They’ve cut us in half.”
“Not us, sir. The entire Expeditionary Force is in the north. They’ve simply cut them off from any reinforcements from the French.”
“Quite right.”
“I suppose ordering a retreat to the ports is the only course of action now.” Bill sat forward and stared at the report on his desk absently. “Where are they concentrating their efforts? Calais?”
“Yes, and Dunkirk.” Jasper cleared his throat again. “If you have any agents in the area, you may want to advise them to pull out and go south for now. It won’t be pretty there over the next few weeks.”
“It’s not pretty anywhere. They’re aware of what’s expected of them. However, this does pose a problem for Jian.”
“What? Is she still there? I thought she was on her way back.”
“Not yet. She will be, and I was going to extract her from the coast.” Bill squeezed his eyes shut, then looked up as soft knock fell on the door. “I’ll have to rethink that now. Come in!”
“Where were you thinking?”
“Le Havre.”
Jasper clicked his tongue and Bill could almost see him shaking his head. “That won’t do at all. Perhaps further south will be best. Ideally, we should fly her out. Is that a possibility?”
“Unfortunately no. Sam is extracting Pietro from Lyons and taking him to Spain. He’s been made by the police there and his safety is a concern with the Germans advancing.” Bill nodded to his assistant as he entered the office carrying a stack of messages and a leather folder. “Sam sent a message this morning saying that the skies are getting crowded. He had to divert around two separate Luftwaffe formations getting Jian out of Switzerland. It would be suicide to send him back into the heart of France.”
“What a bloody mess. Keep me informed, please. She’s bringing Oscar back with her?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Very well. Do your best. If you run into anything I can assist with, do let me know.”
“Of course, sir. Enjoy your lunch. Have a whiskey and soda for me.”
Bill hung up and held out a hand for the stack of messages from Wesley.
“Was that Montclair?” Wesley asked, nodding to the phone.
“Yes. He’s on his way to have lunch with the prime minister.” Bill flipped through the messages, pausing when he came to one. He looked up sharply. “When did this come through?”
“Not half an hour ago, sir. Is it from France?”
“Yes.” Bill ripped open the sealed message and scanned it. “It’s from Jian. She says Le Havre is not possible.”
He pushed his chair back and got up, dropping the message on the desk.
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“Yes. The entire British Expeditionary Force will be pulling back to the port cities, and that means the German forces will also be converging there.” Bill crossed the office to study the massive map of France hanging on the wall opposite. “We have to come up with a new plan.”
“Sir?” Wesley stared at him. “The entire BEF?”
“Yes.”
“On the coast of the Channel?”
Bill glanced at him, his brows coming together. “You’re not usually slow, Wesley. What’s on your mind?”
“Just that...well, where will they go from there?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m not a military strategist, but it seems to me that if the entire BEF pulls back to the coast, they’ll be trapped there.”
Bill nodded and turned his attention back to the map. “So they will.”
“But...then what? Do they have a plan to get them out?”
“I certainly hope so, otherwise England will be in a right pickle, won’t we? The BEF is the bulk of the British Army, you know.”
“Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking.”
Bill stilled and slowly turned to look at the younger man. His lips were pressed together grimly and his face was still pale.
“You’ve got a brother over there, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.
Wesley nodded, swallowing. “Yes, sir. He’s in the 63rd Medium Regiment, Royal Artillery.”
Bill exhaled and nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the plan is for the troops. I only just found out from Montclair that the order was given to withdraw to Calais and Dunkirk this morning.”
“I understand, sir.”
“If I learn more, and if I’m able, I’ll let you know. But right now, I have to find a way to get Jian and Oscar out of France and back to England before the Nazis roll into Paris and France falls completely.”
“Yes, sir.” Wesley walked over to stand beside him at the map. “What’s your plan for extraction?”
“It will have to be by boat. Sam is on his way to Spain, and the Luftwaffe are taking more control of the air over France every minute.”
“Can they go through Spain?”
“It’s too far. They’re in Paris now, awaiting instructions. They can’t stay there. We have to get them moving.”
Both men stared at the map for a long moment, then Wesley pointed to La Rochelle.
“Don’t we have an agent here?”
“Not anymore.” Bill tilted his head and followed a line south. “But we do still have one here, in Bordeaux.”
“And they certainly have ports. The Garonne River empties out into the Bay of Biscay.”
“More than that, we have cruisers delivering supplies almost daily to Bordeaux.” Bill reached over to pull a red pin off of Paris, pushing it into the map at Bordeaux. “If I can get them onto one of those cruisers, that will be a damn sight faster than a fishing trawler.”
“And relatively safer,” Wesley agreed.
“Take down a message to send back.” Bill continued studying the map as Wesley turned and hurried over to the desk to get a pad and pencil. “She’ll have to be quick. I’ve heard that the roads south from Paris are clogged with refugees already. It will take her three times as long to get there, and I don’t know how much longer those supply shipments will be going.”
“I’m ready, sir.”
“ ‘Le Havre is out. Make for Bordeaux.’ ” Bill stopped and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “ ‘Find Leon on Rue Josephine at Café Rosa. Passcode: William told me Leon makes the best Cannelés. Advise when in place.’ ”
He stopped again and retraced a line back to Paris. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder. “Add this: ‘Proceed with all possible speed. Acknowledge receipt.’ Sign it Bard.”
Wesley finished writing and laid the pencil down, straightening up. “I’ll have this encoded and sent immediately,” he said, turning for the door. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“Yes. Are you a praying man, Wesley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you’d best offer a few for Jian, our boys, and the entire country of France. They’re stuck in it now, and when France falls, there won’t be anywhere they can hide.”
