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

his lips tighten unpleasantly. This was very likely a waste of time. The woman was probably long gone, if she’d ever been here at all.

Voss entered the lobby of the hotel and looked around at the swarming guests rushing to leave. He shook his head and silently cursed the fates that had ordained the invasion to happen today, of all days. Amidst such chaos, he would be lucky to find an employee to speak with, let alone find out if a specific woman had been staying here. Yet he had to try. There was no other alternative. He had to do whatever was in his power to find the mysterious Marie Fournier.

He made his way to the desk and waited until a harried employee saw him standing there.

“Yes? Can I help?” the man asked, glancing over as he filled out a card for a couple standing before him.

“I’m looking for a friend,” Hans said easily. “We were supposed to meet here in the lobby, but with all of this going on, I don’t even know if she’s still here.”

“What’s the name?”

“Marie Fournier. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that. We just met last night at a dinner party.” Hans smiled sheepishly. “I’m visiting from Zurich and she very kindly offered to show me the city.”

“I doubt that will happen now,” the man said with a grunt. “If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll look to see if she’s here.”

“Thank you.”

Hans turned to watch the chaos unfolding in the lobby and once again silently cursed the rotten luck that had led Hitler to invade Belgium today. It would take twice as long to check the hotels in this mess, and time was not something that was on his side now. If she was here, the woman would be trying to make her way out of the city even as he searched for her. The only hope he had was that she would also be delayed in making her way out of Brussels, and that just might work in his favor. They were bombing the bridges, trains, airports and roads. The gridlock would only get worse. If she was caught in it as well then he just might have a chance of catching up with her. It wasn’t much of a chance, he admitted, but it might be a chance.

“Fournier, you said?”

Hans turned back to the man behind the desk and saw him flipping through a stack of registration cards.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I don’t see anyone with that name here. Let me check if she’s already paid and left.” The man turned away and went to a stack of cards a few feet away, going through them quickly. When he turned back, Hans knew the answer. She wasn’t here. “I’m sorry. There’s no one here by that name. Are you sure it was this hotel?”

“I thought so, but perhaps I was mistaken. Thank you for your time.”

The man nodded in acknowledgment before turning to help another guest. Hans strode across the lobby, setting his hat back on his head as soon as he stepped outside. One hotel down, about a hundred to go. He turned back toward the car, pulling out his travel guidebook and crossing off the hotel as he walked. Pursing his lips, he ran his eye over the list of likely hotels that he had made the night before after checking several yesterday. He had to narrow this down somehow. There wasn’t enough time to cover all of them. After staring at the list thoughtfully for a second, he closed the book and tucked it back into his coat pocket. He would start with the most expensive hotels. They were fewer in number and he could eliminate them quickly. There was absolutely no reason to think that Marie Fournier would be staying in any of them, but one thing stuck in his mind. Frau Lutz said the woman had been staying at one of the more expensive hotels in Antwerp. As unlikely as it seemed, perhaps that was where he would have the most luck.

And so that was where he would start.

RAF Duxford

Miles strode into the lounge and nodded to one of the new pilots. “Good morning, Sawyer. Are you coming in or going out?”

“I’ve just come down, sir,” the young man said. “The CO took me up.”

“Did he indeed?” Miles clapped him on the shoulder. “Moving up in the world, are you? Before you know it, you’ll be one of us.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

Miles chuckled to himself as he walked over to join Rob and Chris in the armchairs near the fireplace.

“Poor sod. He’s that bad?” he asked, seating himself next to Rob.

“He overshot the landing strip last night,” Rob replied with a grin. “When Ashmore heard, he nearly burst a blood vessel. I heard him yelling all the way in here.”

“Good Lord. Is the plane all right?”

“I think so.” Rob went back to his newspaper. “Must be if he took it up again this morning.”

“How exactly does one do that?” Chris wondered, blowing cigarette smoke up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I don’t think I could overshoot the landing if I tried.”

“No, you just land without wheels,” Rob retorted from behind his paper. “Typical of the Americans. Always wanting to do things the hard way.”

Chris laughed and leaned forward to offer Miles a light as he patted his jacket looking for a lighter.

“Thanks,” he murmured, leaning forward to light his cigarette. “Must’ve left mine in my room.”

“How did we luck out and get the late flight this morning?” Chris asked, sitting back in his chair again. “Not that I’m complaining. It was nice to eat breakfast and then mosey on in here and not have to rush out to the ready.”

Rob lowered his paper slightly and peered over the edge at Chris.

“Mosey?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “When on earth have I ever mosied, Yank? Do I look like a cowboy?”

“Not in the slightest. Have it your way. I mosied. You paraded. Better?”

Miles laughed as