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“I’d given up on your coming today,” Asp said, leading the way down a corridor towards a room in the front of the house. “I’m glad you made it. Who is this you’ve brought with you?”
“A friend,” Jens said. “She was trapped in Brussels when the Germans launched the invasion. I offered for her to come with me.”
Asp motioned them into the sitting room and smiled at Evelyn as she followed Jens into the room.
“And does your friend have a name?” he asked, following them.
“Annette Beaumont,” Evelyn answered, turning and smiling. “Jens didn’t tell me what your name was. In fact, he’s been very mysterious about this whole visit. All he would tell me is that you’re an old friend.” She held up her hands, a picture of amused despair. “What shall I call you?”
“My friends call me Asp. I hope you will as well, mademoiselle.”
“Asp? What a funny name! Oh! I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”
Asp smiled. “None was taken. It is a silly name. It’s one I’ve carried since I was a boy in school. I’m afraid I never really got rid of it as we grew older.”
“I’m sure there’s an interesting story there,” she said gaily before glancing at Jens. She sobered comically and looked at Asp again ruefully. “Although I don’t think Jens shares my enthusiasm. I’ve been told I have a tendency to talk too much, and I suppose I’m doing that now. I’ll refrain and let you boys have your discussion.”
“It won’t take but a moment, and then you may talk to your heart’s content,” Asp assured her, walking across the room towards the window where a small desk held a lamp. “I’ll just draw the curtains for privacy.”
Jens had been watching the banter between them with a look of bemusement on his face. As Asp walked away from them, he shot Evelyn a look of confusion. She smiled calmly and shook her head very slightly. She had given the alias to their host in a moment of sudden panic, forgetting that Jens only knew her by Marie. But when Asp had asked her name, the only thought in her mind was that if the SS were truly on her tail, they would know the name Marie Fournier. The last thing she wanted to do was gamble on the chance that Asp hadn’t heard that name yet.
“I must get this lamp fixed,” Asp was saying as he drew the heavy blackout curtains closed. “If I so much as knock the table, the light goes out. It’s really a nuisance sometimes.”
“I’ll take a look at it if you like,” Jens offered. “I’m good with electrical things.”
Asp turned away from the window, waving the offer away. “No, it’s quite all right. I’ll take care of it later. Now, I believe you said you had some letters for me?” he asked, glancing at Evelyn. “From our old professor?”
Jens swallowed and nodded, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a rolled leather folder and held it out.
“I’m sorry for the delay. The invasion sent everything into chaos,” he said with a smile.
“Please don’t think anything of it,” Asp said, taking the roll. “You’re very fortunate to have been able to get out of Belgium as quickly as you did. I’ve heard that the Germans are bombing the roads now, and targeting the citizens trying to flee.”
Evelyn gasped, feigning shock. “No!”
Asp nodded soberly and turned to carry the roll across the room towards the window. “Yes, mademoiselle. It’s a very sad business.”
They watched as he bent down and pulled back the rug in front of the window. Evelyn’s eyebrows soared into her forehead when he pulled up part of the floor board to reveal a hidden compartment. He dropped the roll inside and replaced the board.
“You must stay for a drink,” he said, replacing the rug. “I have a very good port that I think you’ll like.”
“Thank you, but Mari—Annette is anxious to get to Paris,” Jens said.
Evelyn inwardly winced at his slip, her breath catching in her throat. She managed to keep her face neutral as if nothing had happened while her heart started pounding. Asp looked up sharply, his gaze piercing, before he stood up again.
“What a shame. Another time perhaps.” He walked over to a side table and opened a box, pulling out a cigarette. “You were in Brussels, mademoiselle? Were you visiting friends perhaps?”
“No. I was there to deliver some messages and make appointments for my employer. I’m a secretary for a businessman. He was detained at a conference in Switzerland and sent me to Belgium in his stead.”
“How unfortunate for you.” Asp held out the box, offering them a cigarette, then closed it and put it down when they both shook their heads. “I can’t imagine anything more unsettling than being in a country while it’s being invaded.”
He lit his cigarette and went over to the fireplace to toss the match into the empty hearth. Evelyn glanced at Jens behind his back to find his face pale and his lips pressed together. She touched his hand, willing him to relax. The man looked like he was about to be forced down the plank into shark-infested water.
“I heard the most interesting thing this morning,” Asp said conversationally, turning back to them. “They say that someone stole plans for several munitions factories in Stuttgart a week ago. The plans were smuggled out of Germany and into Holland, where they were then carried by a courier to Antwerp.”
“Oh?” Jens found his voice. “What happened to them?”
“That’s the interesting part. They were passed on to another courier, a woman by all accounts, who then took them to Brussels.” Asp slid his gaze to Evelyn’s face. “The SS is very eager to get them back, and have sent officers looking for her.”
“Goodness!” Evelyn murmured, her eyes wide. “How frightening!”
Something like a smile graced his thin lips and Asp nodded in agreement.
“Yes. I can’t think of anything worse than having the Gestapo after me.” He sucked on his cigarette and blew the smoke up to the ceiling, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’m told they don’t know what she looks like, but they have the name she was using in Brussels.”
“I can’t imagine that will get them very far,” Jens said. “If they don’t know what she looks like, how can they find her, really? Anyway, she’s probably passed the package on by now if she’s a courier. When was this?”
“A few days ago. You’re probably right. If she was simply a courier, then she would no longer have the package.” Asp considered the glowing tip of his cigarette. “They think she is trying to get the plans to the British. If she is, and she isn’t a simple courier as they think, then she would have fled Brussels when the Germans invaded. I’d imagine she’d try to get to Paris, where she can contact the British.”
“Couldn’t she do that from anywhere in France?” Evelyn couldn’t help herself. “Why would it have to be Paris?”
“Perhaps it doesn’t.” He looked up suddenly and pinned her with a piercing gaze. “Perhaps she’s simply from Paris.”
“This is all fascinating, but I confess I don’t know why you’re telling us,” she said with a smile, pleased when her voice came out steady and calm.
“I haven’t told you the most interesting part,” Asp said with an answering smile that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “My source told me that the woman’s name is Marie.”
Evelyn licked her suddenly dry lips. “And why is that interesting?”
“Well, my dear, I would have thought it was obvious. Jens called you Marie just now.”
“I didn’t,” Jens protested. “Well, I mean, I did, but that’s because she reminds me of my cousin Marie.”
Asp smiled indulgently at him. “Of course she does.”
Evelyn felt her limbs begin to tremble, but she ignored the feeling as the bi-product of fear, something Sifu had long told her was nothing but an overabundance of adrenaline, fed by her own imagination. Strange how even in the face of an enemy who had obviously put two and two together, thanks to Jens’ blunder, she was thinking of random teachings from her martial arts teacher years before.
“If the SS is so intent on finding this woman, then I wonder why you’re telling us all of this,” she said, meeting his gaze coolly. “Surely it only puts you in danger to be passing on this information.”
“I’m only in danger if I am caught,” he pointed out with a smile. “I think you’re both misunderstanding me, so let me be very blunt. I believe you are Marie Fournier, the woman who is carrying stolen plans from Belgium to give to a British agent here in France.”
Jens sucked in his breath and looked from Asp to Evelyn, then back again. “Fournier? That’s the woman’s name?”
“Yes.”
Jens looked at Evelyn. “But...that’s impossible! Isn’t it? You’re not her, are you?”
“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “Do I look like someone who would be carrying stolen plans across Europe?”
Jens shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No, but I don’t think I look like someone who would be carrying stolen, decoded messages across Europe either.”
Asp watched them with interest, his eyes narrowed. “How fascinating! Did you really not know?” he asked Jens. Turning to Evelyn, he inclined his head slightly. “I commend you, mademoiselle.”
“There is no need to, I assure you.”
“Why don’t you let me help?” he asked, throwing his cigarette butt into the hearth. “Give me the package and I’ll ensure that it gets to an agent who works with MI6. I know a man in Paris who has been in contact with them. He will know how to get it to them quickly.”
“Even if she had it, which I don’t believe that she does, why would you do that?” Jens demanded. “Why would you risk it?”
“For the same reason that I risk passing on the information that you’ve been sending me,” Asp replied with a shrug. “According to the man I spoke with this morning, the SS have sent one of their senior officers to find you. He is already in France. It will be only a matter of time before he finds you. If that happens before you’ve been able to pass it along...”
He let his voice trail off and shrugged again. Evelyn felt her spine stiffen and a flash of anger went through her. The man had seen an opportunity, and was going to do everything he could to get the package back himself. It would be quite a feather in his cap to present the Germans with their missing plans. He was an opportunist, and would sell everyone he knew out to the highest bidder if it benefitted him. It was people like him that would extend this war, turning friends against family until there was no trust or faith left. In a sudden instant of clarity, Evelyn realized that the man smiling so suavely at her was the epitome of everything she loathed and hated, and the very reason she had agreed to join MI6 and fight for all that was good in this new world they were living in. He symbolized the smug arrogance that had propelled ordinary men and women into this war. It was that arrogance that was the reason she was standing in this shabby little sitting room in a country village in France, instead of in her own gracious drawing room at Ainsworth Manor.
And she was suddenly furious.
“Even if I did have it, I would hardly give it to someone I don’t know in the hopes that he might be able to pass it onto someone else,” she said coldly. “If I had gone through the trouble of carrying it all the way from Antwerp, through an invasion, and over the border into France, why on earth would I part with it now?”
“Because you are in immediate danger of being captured by the SS,” he said. “I’m only concerned for you, my dear, and the package you carry. It must be preserved at all costs. Surely you can see that.”
“Surely you can see what a ridiculous conversation this is,” she retorted irritably.
Jens glanced at her and frowned.
“I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” he said, looking at Asp. “She doesn’t have this package. You said yourself that a courier would have passed it on long before now. It would be insane to carry something like that out of Belgium in the midst of an invasion.”
“Would it? Would it be better to leave it in Belgium and risk it finding its way back into German hands?” Asp countered. “Open your eyes, man. She has it. She hasn’t had the chance to pass it on to anyone. I’ll tell you what,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “I’ll give you one thousand francs in exchange for the package.”
“A thousand francs!” Jens exclaimed, shocked. “Are you mad?”
“I’m concerned that the information she carries will fall into the wrong hands,” Asp replied sharply. “I’m willing to pay to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
Both men missed the flash of pure fury in blue eyes before them.
“You can keep your money,” Evelyn said, her voice deadly and quiet. “I neither need nor want it. Even if I did have the package you’re talking about, I wouldn’t take your money in exchange for it even if I had a gun held to head by Himmler himself.”
The amiable look disappeared from Asp’s face with her words and his lips thinned.
“I can assure you that if Himmler was holding a gun to your head, you wouldn’t be so quick with your words,” he snapped. “I think you do have the package, and I think you have it with you now. You would never leave it in a suitcase or in a car. It’s far too valuable. What’s to stop me from taking it from you?”
Jens blustered angrily, but Asp ignored him, his eyes on Evelyn’s face. He took a step towards her, his mouth twisted into something resembling a snarl.
“You’ve been very clever to carry it all this way, even in the teeth of the German advance into Belgium, but you won’t carry it any further. That package will not leave this room.”
The room was filled with complete silence for a charged second as Evelyn and Asp stared at each other, both filled with anger, and resolve. Jens stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with alarm, watching Asp in apprehension. For that one suspended second in time, no one moved.
And then Asp lunged for Evelyn.
Evelyn saw him move and, instead of backing away, stepped forward to meet him, her left hand swinging up to block the hand reaching for her. While she blocked with her left, her right hand sliced upwards towards his neck. Before he had any idea what was happening, the side of her hand slammed into his throat, crushing his esophagus, at the same time that her left hand twisted and grabbed his wrist. Within seconds, Asp was on his knees before her, his right arm twisted around behind him at an impossible angle, choking from the blow to his throat.
Before she could raise her right hand again and deliver a blow to his temple, Jens suddenly lurched into action. With a roar, he lunged towards them and Evelyn looked up, startled, as he flew towards her. Before she could stop him, he pushed her violently away from Asp, forcing her to release the hold she had on his arm. She stumbled backwards, gasping and trying to catch herself, just as a flash of steel appeared in Asp’s left hand.
Asp jumped to his feet, a revolver in his hand, and spun around to find Evelyn. He found himself facing Jens instead and snarled, raising the revolver. Jens knocked it out of his hand with a cry and the gun skidded across the floor, coming to a stop near Evelyn’s feet. She ignored it, her eyes locked on the two men. With his gun gone, Asp resorted to his hands and grabbed for Jens’ throat. The struggle that ensued was as brief as it was intense, with Jens trying to pry strong fingers away from his neck. Gasping for air, he stopped pulling at Asp’s wrists and punched him in the throat, right where Evelyn had stuck him seconds before. Asp gagged and his hands fell away from Jens’ throat as he tried to suck in air through his damaged wind pipe. Before he could recover, Jens shoved him away from him, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Staggering, Asp lost his balance and fell backwards. A sickening crack filled the room as his head smashed into the corner of the stone mantel above the hearth. Before either Jens or Evelyn could react, he fell sideways towards the stand of hand irons sitting near the hearth. She watched in horror as his head hit the stand, then swiftly covered her face with her hands and turned away as the poker went through his neck.
She heard the final thud as his body came to rest before the empty stone hearth and lowered her trembling hands, taking a ragged, deep breath. Nausea rolled over her, clenching her throat, and making her double over. Then, forcing the bile threatening in the back of her throat back down, she took another deep breath, and another, until she was able to slowly straighten up again.
“Is he...” she whispered, not turning around to look.
“Dead.” Jens’ voice was hoarse and strained. “Oh God. He’s dead!”
London, England
Henry poured himself a drink and carried it over to his favorite arm chair near the fireplace. In the winter months, there would be a hearty fire roaring in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. Spring had truly settled into England, however, and there was no need for the warmth from a fire, so the hearth stood empty. Settling into the leather chair, Henry’s eyes flicked to the dark fireplace. He missed the fire, but readily admitted that there was no point in burning one just for the aesthetics of it.
He sipped his whiskey and soda and leaned his head back, exhaling in contentment. It had been a good day. The Panzers had made it through the Ardennes in record time and had rolled into Sedan to find not one French soldier in sight. They would now construct the bridgeheads to cross the Meuse, and be in France in no time at all. Everything was going according to plan, according to his contact in Zurich. England was about to see just how powerful the Third Reich had become.
In addition to that news, he had also received a very satisfactory message from his handler. He had been worried about that, if the truth were known. After visiting Ainsworth Manor and discovering one of Bill’s men installed as a guard, he had had no choice but to send a message to Berlin, advising them of the situation. Rather than admit his own failure, he had simply explained that he believed the plans to be lost. He pointed out that while he hadn’t been able to locate them, neither had the British. They had a man placed in Robert’s main residence, undoubtedly to watch to see if they would surface. It only made sense that if the missing plans were there, they would have surfaced by now. Yet they hadn’t. He finished by respectfully suggesting that they accept that the package may be buried forever. The only man who knew its location had taken that knowledge with him to the afterlife.
Henry really hadn’t been expecting a favorable response. In fact, he was fully expecting the opposite. Instead, he received a message this evening through an unusual avenue. He had been instructed to go to a restaurant in a shabby area of London. There he had been handed a thick envelope. Inside was a rather lengthy response to his message, and five hundred pounds. Amazing, that. Instead of being chastised, he was given money. Completely unnecessary, of course, but he would take it without question. An extra five hundred pounds in cash could always come in handy.
Setting his drink on the table beside his chair, Henry reached into his pocket to pull out the letter. Re-reading it, a faint smile curved his lips. They admitted that the plans might very well be gone for good, but they weren’t convinced that they might not still surface. However, given the advance into Belgium and Holland, and the speed with which their men were making their way into France, they instructed him to leave the question of the missing plans for now. Instead, they wanted all information he could find regarding all the Allied agents in France, both English and French networks, as well as all the known meeting points. As their forces made their way through France, the SS would find it useful to know where potential threats were in order to ensure they did not interfere with the complete and utter victory of the Third Reich over France.
And so he had received a reprieve. Henry folded up the letter and laid it on the table, picking up his drink again. At least for the time being, Berlin was content to set the question of the missing documents aside and allow him to focus on easier, more pressing matters.
Sipping his drink, Henry couldn’t stop a smile of satisfaction from settling on his face. He had obviously proven his worth to the men in Berlin. It wouldn’t be long now before he was recognized and rewarded for his work in London. Once the BEF and French army were crushed in France, there would be nothing to prevent Hitler from moving into France and England. Germany would become the largest world power next to the United States. When that happened, his efforts on their behalf would be rewarded and his place in the Third Reich would be assured.
But first, he had to gather all the information he could on the new fledgling networks in France and Belgium. And he knew just where to begin.
