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

“Oh it’s not my field,” she said gaily. “We’re just borrowing the farmhouse. I’m sure it’s just fine. Have you really been driving for thirteen hours?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“But Brussels isn’t nearly that far!”

“No, but most of Brussels was on the road with us,” Evelyn said dryly. “I’ve never seen so many cars, trucks and carts in all my life.”

“Oh how horrid!” Josephine glanced at Marc. “We’ll be getting a lot of refugees now. That might be good for us.”

“We’ll see,” he said brusquely.

Josephine made a face in the darkness and turned back to Evelyn. “You both must be tired. Have you eaten?”

“We just ate some bread and cheese that we picked up on the road earlier.”

“Is that all you’ve had? That’s not nearly enough. Come with us. The house isn’t far from here. You can leave the car. It’ll be quite safe there.” Josephine looked at Jens. “You can’t go on driving tonight. You must be exhausted. We have food and plenty of room. Stay here tonight and you can be on your way again in the morning.”

“We don’t want to impose,” he protested.

“Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble at all!” Josephine looked at the car. “Do you have any luggage?”

“Not much. Just one case,” Evelyn said, looking from Josephine to the men behind her. “Are you sure, Josephine? We’ll don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Don’t you start as well,” she exclaimed with a laugh. “Get your bags and come with us. We’ll have you fed and comfortable in no time.”

Evelyn looked at Jens questioningly and he shrugged. “It’s up to you, Marie,” he said with a grin. “I’m just the chauffer.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Evelyn muttered, turning towards the car. “Let’s get some rest and then we’ll do as Josephine said and continue in the morning.”

She opened the back door and pulled out her suitcase as Jens went around to the other side to pull out his bag and radio.

“Was the drive very bad?” Josephine asked her as she closed the door and turned back towards her. “Were they bombing the roads?”

“Not the one we were one, but several Stukas buzzed us repeatedly throughout the afternoon.” Evelyn looped her purse over arm and moved to join Josephine. Before she knew what was happening, the man named Luc had taken her suitcase from her with a nod. “Oh, it’s quite all right,” she protested. “It’s not heavy.”

“Oh for God’s sake, let him do it,” Josephine said with a laugh. “Luc is very particular about manners and etiquette. He’s from Paris too.

Luc glanced at her curiously. “Are you from Paris?”

“Yes.”

“What part?”

“The huitième arrondissment.”

Luc whistled. “Very nice. I am not quite so fortunate. I am from the 10th, near the Hôpital-Saint-Louis.”

“And I have no idea what any of that means,” Josephine said, looking from one to the other. “Is the 8th district exclusive, then?”

“Very,” Luc told her.

She looked at Evelyn and tucked her arm through hers. “Well then, you must invite me for dinner if I’m ever in Paris. Until then, I’ll invite you. My chateau awaits.”

Evelyn laughed and glanced at Jens as he joined them. “If you’re ever in Paris, I’ll take you out to dinner, and show you all the best places. I’m doing the same for Jens, if we ever get there.”

“Oh, you’ve never been to Paris?” Josephine asked him.

“No. This will be my first time.”

“Have you ever left Belgium?”

“Once. My family went on holiday to Amsterdam when I was a boy. It was the most perfect place I’ve ever been.”

“It won’t be perfect for very much longer,” Marc said, glancing back over his shoulder at them as they all trudged towards the hedgerow ahead of them. “Rotterdam is already getting bombed.”

They sobered at the reminder of the war that was tearing the continent apart. After a long silence, Evelyn slipped her arm through Jens’s and squeezed.

“Never mind, Jens. You haven’t seen Paris yet. Perhaps it will replace Amsterdam in your esteem.”

Jens nodded and they fell silent as Evelyn walked, linked on either side by one old friend and one new one. She looked from one to the other and wondered how they had all ended up in this dark field in the north of France. Of all the unlikely pairings, she couldn’t think of stranger one. A radio operator with the Belgian State Security, an MI6 agent posing as a rich secretary, and an intelligence office for the Deuxième Bureau who, for reasons that she hoped to learn, was camped out in a farmhouse with four heavily armed men. On the surface, they should have no reason to be in the same place at the same time. Yet here they were. Evelyn pressed her lips together.

She just hoped this wasn’t a recipe for disaster.

Belgium-France Border - 11:30pm

Eisenjager looked in his rear view mirror as the border crossing faded into the distance behind him. It had taken much longer to reach France than he expected due to the fact that the roads had been clogged with Belgians fleeing the advancing German army. Belgians like his target, Jens Bernard. He shook his head and shifted his gaze back to the road before him. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. The Luftwaffe was bombing with abandon, destroying bridges and dropping bombs in the cities. While he’d been on the road, a pair of dive bombers had swooped down and unloaded the contents of their machine guns into the line of vehicles clogging the road. Eisenjager had been forced to leave the pavement and drive over brush and field to go around several cars that had been hit and were stranded on the road. It had begun, and it would only get worse. As the Wehrmacht moved further into Belgium, the Luftwaffe would be instructed to focus their attention on the roads as well. Anything to prevent the Allied armies from getting through.

This morning, after speaking to the landlord, Eisenjager had gone to all the petrol stations around Brussels, looking for anyone who might