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

“No, sir. I did receive confirmation that the telegram was received, but no reply as of yet.”

Bill frowned but nodded, patting the man’s shoulder.

“Let me know as soon as you hear something,” he instructed. “I don't care what time it is. Come and find me.”

The operator nodded and reached for his headset again as Bill turned to leave, the frown on his face growing.

He headed for the door to the stairwell a few feet away. They should’ve heard something by now, but there was nothing he could do until he received word back from Evelyn. He had to trust that she had received the telegram in time and was taking all available precautions. If not, then they very well could be on the brink of losing potentially the best agent they had so far in this Phony War.

He was jogging down the steps to the first floor when a thought occurred to him. She wasn’t alone in Stockholm. The translator was with her, the one called Anna. The thought cheered him a bit. With two of them working together, Evelyn had a greater chance of avoiding Renner. But if the mysterious Soviet agent was also in play, then things were a lot more complicated, and a lot more dangerous, than he’d at first supposed.

The frown returned to his face. In fact, this whole situation had become more complicated than it was supposed to be. If the Soviet agent had followed her to Sweden, how on earth was she going to avoid two enemy agents and get out of Stockholm?

Her first line of communication would have to be their man at the embassy, Horace Manchester. Daniel had been very clear that he had instructed her to contact him as soon as she arrived in Stockholm. Accordingly, Carew had received confirmation from Horace that she had done so. Jasper had already authorized Horace to use all available means to get her out of Sweden and back to England as soon as possible.

There was still a chance that she could make it out without any confrontations. It was a slim chance, but there was a chance.

Bill opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell and crossed the tiled hall of the embassy in Paris. Although he was now regretting giving his approval for the unscheduled trip to Stockholm, Bill couldn’t help but wonder what information Evelyn might be bringing back. Would it be worth all this worry? Or would this whole trip turn out to be a wild goose chase? There was no way of knowing until she returned with whatever information she had managed to gather. That is, if she hadn’t been forced to destroy it in her flight.

As he stepped out onto the busy Paris street, the sun was shining and Parisians were cheerfully going about their daily lives around him. Setting his hat on his head, he turned to walk down the street towards his favorite restaurant. While Paris was still eating and drinking with abandon, he was desperately trying to assemble and organize his agents before the war actually got going. And it would. They all knew that. Hitler was not about to stop now.

And when it did get started in earnest, he was going to need every available agent, including Evelyn. She had to make it back.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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Gamla Stan, Stockholm

Comrade Grigori stood in the mouth of the alley, watching the building on the corner. He had followed the Englishwoman and watched her go inside, but had chosen not to follow. It was getting too risky now. She knew he was here but, so far, he'd been able to avoid her noticing that he was following her. He knew that wouldn’t last for long, though. As she’d shown in Oslo, she was very adept at watching her back.

He reached into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. It had been over twenty minutes since she entered the building and he’d now concluded that she was, in fact, meeting someone for lunch. He wished he could go in to get a glimpse of them and see if it was Lyakhov, but he couldn't. He must wait until she left. With a bit of luck, they would exit the building together and he would see who it was that had drawn her into this disreputable neighborhood

After lighting a cigarette, Grigori looked around his surroundings distastefully. The buildings quite possibly had been beautiful at one time, but now they were ancient. Time and decay had taken their toll, and the once proud structures had fallen into disrepair that appeared to be beyond restoration. The best thing Stockholm could do, in his opinion, was to raze the lot and rebuild. But if the government in Sweden was anything like his own in Moscow, that would not happen. As much as Stalin liked to consider himself modern in his outlook and policies, Grigori believed he was really a traditionalist at heart. Most of the buildings in Moscow had been preserved after their great revolution, and when Stalin took power, he made no attempt to alter them.

He returned his gaze to the corner across the street. He rather hoped that it wouldn’t be Lyakhov that walked out of the door. So far he'd found no evidence of treasonous behavior. It would be a shame for that to change now. He’d always liked Vladimir Lyakhov. The man was astute in his work and unbending in his convictions, two characteristics that Grigori admired, especially in their profession.

He was on his second cigarette when the door to the building finally opened and the Englishwoman emerged. Dropping the cigarette, he put it out with his shoe as his body tensed in expectation. The door remained open after she stepped outside. Someone was coming out with her.

The man that followed her out of the tavern was not Comrade Lyakhov and Grigori stared in surprise. It was a face he hadn’t been expecting to see. In fact, it was a face that, as far as