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

“Has Franz seen anything in the back?” he asked, going back to his chair at the desk and seating himself again.

“No. Everything is quiet. The only people going into the alley are the hotel staff.”

He nodded and picked up his pen, twirling it absently between his long fingers.

“We’ll use the alley,” he decided after a moment. “Is Helmut still at the consulate with the car?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him to be prepared to come when I call for him. When Fraulein Richardson returns to the hotel, we’ll allow her to go to her room. Once she’s there, I’ll pay her a visit.”

“We can take her from the room,” the man suggested. “There’s a stairwell that goes down to the back of hotel, near the back entrance. It would be quick and easy to get her down the stairs.”

Renner shook his head.

“No. We can’t take her from inside the hotel,” he said firmly. “We can’t risk causing an incident that will be protested, as it surely would. Sweden will not take kindly to us breaching her neutrality in such a fashion. Remember, we are under orders to be discreet. Himmler doesn’t want anyone to know about the Fraulein.”

The man frowned and lifted his head, looking at Renner.

“If we can’t take her from inside the hotel, what do you suggest?”

“I’ll get her to leave the hotel with me. Once we’re downstairs, I’ll take her into the alley where Helmut will be waiting with the car.”

The man’s brow cleared and he nodded slowly.

“There’s less risk in the alley,” he agreed. “Less likelihood of being seen.”

“Precisely.” Renner laid his pen down on the desk and leaned forward. “Once she’s in the car, we have her. Then I’ll find out what Obersturmbannführer Voss wants to know.”

The man glanced at him. “What does he want to know?”

Renner waved his hand dismissively. “That’s none of your concern. Just be sure to alert me as soon as she enters the hotel again.”

“What about the other woman? I have a description now. What if she returns?”

“Let her through. The only way she interests me is if Fraulein Richardson doesn’t return. Then we’ll use the woman to draw her out.”

The man nodded and pushed himself out of the chair.

“I’ll go let the others know,” he said, turning towards the door. “We should have something for you soon.”

Renner nodded and watched as the other man left, closing the door silently behind him. He returned his attention to the letter he was composing to send to Berlin. He was confident that he would have Fraulein Richardson in hand by the evening at the latest.

And once they had what they needed, he had instructions to bring her back to Germany. Fraulein Richardson was about to be removed from the theatre of operations.

When the tall, dark-haired woman breezed through the doors of The Strand with a dull-looking companion trailing behind, the only immediate person to notice was the porter standing just inside. After a brief glance, he returned his attention to the conversation he was holding in a low voice with one of the other hotel employees, uninterested. Later, however, he would claim that he knew there was something excitable about the woman as soon he laid eyes on her. After all, all Spaniards were high-strung, weren’t they? It was because of their hot climate, he would say confidently. When challenged by another porter, he offered his uncle as a point of reference. He’d worked in Madrid for a summer and was well acquainted with the Spanish. While this was highly suspect, by that point two things were beyond dispute: the dark-haired woman was, indeed, Spanish, and, as it turned out, was also very high-strung and excitable.

At that present moment, though, the lobby of the hotel was quiet and no one was really paying any attention to the two women entering from the street. The morning and early afternoon flurry of check-ins and outs was over and a quiet calm had descended over the lobby, broken only by the occasional whir of the lift. The man sitting in a chair on the far side of the lobby with an unrestricted view of both the entrance and the lift stifled a yawn and looked up from his newspaper as the two women came through the door. After a very brief glance, he dismissed them and went back to his paper. They were not who he was waiting for.

He’d just returned to the half-hearted pretense of reading a newspaper that he couldn’t understand when a shrill voice made its way to his corner of the lobby. He looked up in astonishment as the dark-haired woman stopped a few feet into the lobby and swung around to face her companion. She appeared to be berating the other woman, but as she was speaking in Spanish, it was very hard to know for sure. The man lowered his paper, his attention well and truly caught as the well-dressed Spaniard laid into her companion, her voice carrying across the lobby.

The sudden outburst stunned the few people scattered around and a shocked silence fell as one and all stared at the women, trying to understand what on earth was happening. Instead of appearing embarrassed by the public tongue-lashing she was getting, the companion looked resigned. Her clothes were good, but not of the same high quality as the woman in the process of losing her temper, indicating her status of a personal secretary or paid companion. She had dark hair pulled into a tight bun and a sensible, brown hat covered the lot. The man looked at her, noting the black-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose and the woolen stockings that covered her legs under a plain woolen skirt. Not even the faintest flicker of surprise crossed her face at the outburst, showing plainly that this was a common enough occurrence.

“...... completo imbécil! ¿Cómo puedes olvidar recoger el vestido? ¡¿Qué se supone que debo usar esta noche ?!”

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