The Iron Storm by CW Browning (best fiction novels to read .txt) 📗

“Of course not, but you didn’t even ask if I wanted to go!”

“Didn’t think it was necessary, m’dear. After all, a meal at the pub is a darn sight better than what you’ll get at the officer’s mess.”

She made a face. “That’s only because our officer’s mess is far inferior to your officer’s mess,” she muttered. “I’m still cross about that. When I saw what you had available compared to what we have, well!”

Fred grinned and went over to retrieve his hat.

“I rest my case. I’ll pick you up at five.”

“Have you fixed your car door yet?”

“You ask me that every single time I take you out,” he said. “It’s almost as if you don’t trust it.”

“It’s tied on with string!”

“Jolly strong string, though. They use it on the airplanes!” He laughed and reached for the door. “It’s good to have you back, Evie. I’ll see you tonight.”

Evelyn shook her head, chuckling as the door closed behind him. Fred was a rascal, but he really did make her laugh. Between Miles last night and Fred today, she felt well on her way to returning to normal.

The smile faded as she picked up her pen and went back to the stack of mail that had been waiting for her. She wasn’t sure what normal was anymore, and as the war continued, she really believed that everything would change in ways that would defy ‘normal’ ever being the same again. Perhaps it would be people, like Fred and Miles and Robbie, who would remind her of what normal was, and who she was...

And then maybe she could forget about who she was becoming.

Chapter Five

Antwerp, Belgium

May 7

Evelyn stepped out of the elevator and walked down the corridor, her suitcase in one hand and her purse in the other. The train ride from Paris had been long and she was tired, but it was late in the day and she knew she didn’t have time for a nap. She’d been delayed in Dover when the channel had been too rough for the small craft carrying her to France to cast off. When they finally did get underway, the channel was rougher than normal and she had spent much of the trip in her cabin below decks praying that the vessel wouldn’t capsize. Evelyn wasn’t prone to sea sickness, but even she had a few moments when she wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have eaten the few biscuits with coffee that she had before departing. All had been well, however, and they had finally arrived in Calais as the fishermen were coming back from their morning runs. She had arrived in France, but she had missed the first train to Paris.

Stopping in front of her room, Evelyn set down her case and unlocked the door. An hour spent waiting for the next train had caused her to miss the train to Brussels from Paris. After another hour spent waiting, she had finally been on her way once again. The delays, however, had rubbed her nerves raw, and the good-humor that had stayed with her since seeing Miles had rapidly dissipated. Now she was simply tired, hungry and not looking forward to going back to the train station in less than an hour to meet with the Dutch agent.

She pushed the door open and picked up her case again. She’d get herself settled, then leave to meet Lars as arranged. Once the meeting was over, she was coming right back to the hotel, eating dinner and then going to bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to catch the train to Brussels for her meeting with Vladimir.

Evelyn shook her head as she locked the door and turned around to survey her temporary home. How or where she was to meet the Soviet agent was a mystery. He’d given no instructions other than to be in Brussels on the eighth, so she could only assume that he would locate her. The thought of him knowing where she was when she had no idea where he would be was unnerving, but she had no other choice. If they wanted to continue receiving the intelligence that he was willing to pass to them, then she had to play by his rules. At least for the time being, she qualified, walking over to set her case down near the bed. Once they’d agreed on a method of communication, then she could lay down some ground rules of her own.

Evelyn walked over to the window and looked out. Her room overlooked a courtyard at the back of the hotel. This was her first visit to Belgium, but she found it very similar to France. Not surprising, she supposed, sandwiched as it was between France and Holland. She did wish she had time to see more of it while she was here, but once again she found that she was pressed to complete her assignment and get out as quickly as possible. There would be no sightseeing in Antwerp, but perhaps she could squeeze in a few hours in Brussels.

She turned away from the window reluctantly, knowing that she was unlikely to see much of Brussels either. It was just the way it was. Without knowing when the German forces would finally move towards France, she didn’t have the luxury of taking a few hours to look around the old city. Not unless she wanted to end up in the same situation she had in Oslo, fleeing ahead of rapidly advancing German forces.

A shudder went through her. Fred had no idea what Hitler’s forces were capable of. None of them did. While he and Miles and Robbie knew that an attempt would be made on France, they really had no concept of how quickly it would happen when it finally did begin. Miles, at least, knew enough to know that it wouldn’t be anything like what they expected, but even he had no clear understanding of what to be prepared for. She did. She’d seen the speed with which