The Oslo Affair (Shadows of War, #2) by CW Browning (read after .txt) 📗

“It takes more than that to offend me, I assure you. You’re right. I didn’t sleep very well. It’s the new surroundings, I expect.”

“Understandable.”

The waitress returned with both their lunches, and they fell silent as she laid the dishes on the table before them. She said something in Norwegian and Anna answered automatically. With a smile, the waitress left them again.

“What do you do at the law firm?” Evelyn asked, reaching for her sandwich.

“Take dictation and translate incoming mail and messages from the German and English clients,” came the ready answer. “Occasionally I accompany one of the solicitors when they need a translator, but I stay mostly in the office.”

“Do you enjoy the work?”

Anna shrugged. “It’s a job,” she said, uncommitted. “Nothing more.”

Evelyn’s gaze was sharp and swift across the table. The tone in the other woman’s voice held an edge that she herself knew well. It was the sound of someone who wanted to do more in life than what they were currently doing. It was the same tone she’d had last year, before her father asked a favor and Bill recruited her to pick up a package in Strasbourg.

“Perhaps one day it will be more,” she said.

Anna shot her a guarded look and a small smile curved her lips.

“Perhaps.”

“Do you come here for lunch every day?” Evelyn asked.

“Most days. My office is on the next block. I like the soup here, and it is inexpensive compared to other cafes.” Anna glanced up from the soup in question. “Are you going to meet with that scientist for dinner? What was his name again?”

“Herr Mayer. I plan to. Daniel gave me some ideas of where to start with him.”

“I told you he would. I hope you get somewhere with Mayer. He seemed very skittish to me last night.”

Evelyn thought of the nervous man and nodded in agreement. He had seemed very uncomfortable. Yet he had agreed to meet with her, so that was a huge step in the right direction. With any luck, she’d learn something about what the Germans were focusing their scientific energies on.

And then she could focus on Vladimir Lysokov.

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6th November, 1939

Dear Evelyn,

I received your letter last week. It gave me a good laugh, but I haven’t had another from you, despite sending you a response promptly. Have you changed your mind and decided not to write after all? As you see, I’m holding up my end of our bargain. I’ll give you one more chance. Consider yourself issued fair warning.

How’s the training coming on your end? We’re training day and night. I rarely get more than four hours of sleep. The RAF seems to think that we’ll be having a horrific air battle soon. We did have some excitement the other day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t with the Germans. C flight was called up to intercept a squadron of German planes coming in over the Thames Estuary area. Three squadrons from other bases joined them. They sighted the enemy and dove at him, guns blazing. Had a few terrific hits and one of the enemy was shot down. They came back, triumphant and flushed with success. Then our Intel Officer Bertie got a hold of them. It was one of our planes the sods shot down. Jerry wasn’t even there! HQ had seen what looked like an enemy formation coming in, but it was really a formation of British bombers on exercise. Talk about one incredible cock-up. We’d better do better than that if Jerry really does come calling. It’s an embarrassment!

In between flights, they’re keeping us busy with foreign language lessons. They handed out some Polish papers and tests the other day. Seem to think we need to know Polish in order to fly Spitfires. So we were told to memorize these Polish phrases and be prepared to test on them the following day. All right and above board, except that it wasn’t Polish. The papers they gave us were Swedish phrases! The Intel Officer and I are one in agreeing that this, too, is a cock-up.

I may be receiving a few days leave for Christmas. Have you heard if you will? If so, perhaps we could meet? I haven’t forgotten the invitation to hunt on Boxing Day if we all manage to get some time off.

I’m sending you a little something through one of my flight mechanics in a few days. He has to go up to Scotland to pick up some parts. I hope you don’t mind. I saw it and thought you’d like it.

By the way, what I wrote about the Polish papers is highly confidential. Top Secret. I’m trusting you not to blab to the Germans that they’re teaching us Swedish here.

Yours,

FO Miles Lacey

RAF Duxford

Evelyn entered the open-air market on Frognerveien and looked around. The market was fairly busy for late afternoon and she took a deep breath, moving past the bustling stalls of produce, meat, cheese, and baked goods. As she made her way through the maze of vendors, her eyes scanned the crowds, searching for a man wearing a blue scarf with white trim.

Her purse was hooked on her right arm confidently. When she left the cafe after lunch, she had circled the block where her temporary housing was located, looking for her tail. Sure enough, he had returned and was settled across the street, waiting for her to make an appearance. After watching him watching the house for a moment, she went back around the block and climbed through an opening in the fence at the back of the small garden outside the kitchen. Josef had nodded to her as she passed him before returning to his task of chopping wood. Not by the flicker of an eyelid or twitch of his lips did he show any surprise at her climbing through the fence instead of entering through the front door. Perhaps he had already spotted the man