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

soon as he was away from the ticket counter, a decidedly ugly look descended on his face.

Things weren’t looking very good for Comrade Lyakhov. First he left for Stockholm, and now the English agent was doing the same. It could be a coincidence, but Grigori had been around long enough to know that the odds were rapidly deteriorating in Lyakhov’s favor. There had been no sign of the two meeting in Oslo, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a connection. It was possible that Comrade Lyakhov had realized he was being watched and arranged to meet the Englishwoman in Stockholm instead. He wouldn’t have known that the English agent was also in surveillance.

Passing through the arches the two women had passed through moments before, Grigori started down the steps that led to the platform below. On the other hand, the Englishwoman could be a red herring and not connected to Comrade Lyakhov at all. Even now, knowing she was getting on a train to Stockholm, Grigori was inclined to think that this was all just a wild goose chase. But the fact that she was getting on the train was enough to make him follow.

If there truly was no connection with Lyakov, then all would be well. He would be in a perfect position to observe an English agent and see who she was meeting with and what she was doing, which Moscow would appreciate in any event, and Comrade Lyakhov would be cleared of any suspicion. It would be a good, successful mission.

But if a connection between the two was revealed, then things would get ugly.

Comrade Grigori reached the platform just as the conductors called the last boarding call. There was no sign of the two women and he moved towards the first class carriages quickly, his ticket in his hand.

For the Englishwoman’s sake, he sincerely hoped there was no connection. She was a very beautiful young woman. It would be a shame to spoil that.

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Paris, France

Bill sipped his drink and glanced across the crowded drawing room at his wife. Marguerite was laughing at something one of the other women had said and, as he looked in her direction, her eyes met his almost beseechingly. She wanted to leave. Not surprising, really. He’d warned her that it was bound to be dreadfully dull for her. It was an evening for the diplomats and their wives, and she had absolutely nothing in common with most of the women here. He looked at his watch surreptitiously. In another half an hour, he could politely excuse them both and save her sanity.

“Monsieur Buckley?”

A voice spoke softly at his elbow and he turned to see a young footman standing there, looking very apologetic.

“Yes?”

“There is a messenger for you,” he said softly, “from the embassy. He’s waiting downstairs.”

Bill raised his eyes in surprise and nodded. The man moved away as silently as he had come and Bill looked at the older man next to him.

“Pardon,” he murmured. “I must go and see what this is all about.”

The older man waved him away. “Of course, of course! We’re always working, no?”

Bill laughed politely and nodded, turning towards the door of the drawing room. He looked back at Marguerite to find her with her head bent to listen as one of the wives whispered excitedly in her ear. Gossip. Heaven help them all. Marguerite couldn’t abide what she called ‘small-minded woman’s talk.’ His lips curved as he turned and left the room. Hopefully he would return before his wife had had enough.

He went down the stairs to the first floor where a clerk waited in the entry hall, just inside the door. He had an envelope in his hands and Bill felt his good humor fade.

“Hallo George,” he said, reaching the hall. “You’re working late.”

“I was just leaving when a message came through for you, sir,” George replied, meeting him halfway across the hall and handing him the envelope.

Bill took the envelope.

“I suppose we’re all working longer hours than usual these days, eh?” he said, breaking the seal and unfolding the single sheet of paper.

“Yes, sir. If you need to send a reply, I can take it back for you before knocking off for the night.”

Bill scanned the message swiftly. Other than a slight tightening of his lips, he showed no reaction to the message that had been deemed important enough to send a clerk over to Prime Minister Daladier’s residence while an evening of entertainment was in progress.

“Thank you, George. I will send a reply. Would you mind waiting here a moment?”

“Of course, sir.”

Bill turned and went back up the stairs, looking for the study, which he knew would be deserted at present. Once inside, he switched on a lamp and went to the desk, pulling a notepad towards him. He’d just torn off the top sheet and picked up a pencil when the door opened and one of Daladier’s aids poked his head in.

“Oh! It’s you, sir,” he said with a grin. “I saw the light and thought I’d better check. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, thanks. The embassy sent over a message and I’m afraid I have to send an answer back. I hope it’s all right. I won’t be a minute.”

“Of course! Take your time.”

The aid withdrew and the congenial look on Bill’s face disappeared. He pulled out the message again, reading it through once more. It wasn’t any better on the second reading. A German SD agent by the name of Herr Renner had arrived two days before and Daniel Carew had had a man observing him. After checking into the Kolstad’s boarding house that morning, he had now just booked a ticket on the first train out of Oslo in the morning, destination Stockholm.

He bent his head to scrawl a message to Jasper. It couldn’t be a coincidence that now there was a German agent pursuing Evelyn. That was one agent too many. There was no doubt in his mind that they had a spy somewhere