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

“They’re not in there,” he said. “The house is empty. Did you find out anything useful next door?”

“No. The owner didn’t hear or see anything.”

Voss cursed and the two men started back towards the car in the lane behind them.

“They can’t just disappear, yet that’s exactly what they did,” Hans muttered. “They definitely didn’t come out of that alleyway.”

“They must have,” Eisenjager snapped. “Humans don’t disappear. They aren’t ghosts.”

“You saw the field yourself. There was no one in it!” Hans wrenched open his door, motioning for Eisenjager to get into the passenger side. “I’ll take you back to your car.”

They got in and he started the engine, glancing at the assassin beside him. “They’re on foot, and this village isn’t big,” he said after a moment of reflection. “We should be able to find them between the two of us. They can’t get far without a vehicle.”

“They have a vehicle.”

Voss frowned. “What?”

“They have a car. A blue Citroen. It’s the man’s.”

“Then we look for a blue Citroen. In a town this size, it shouldn’t be hard.”

Eisenjager looked out the window. He was right. It shouldn’t be hard at all to find a blue Citroen with Belgian plates in a little village like this. His mood lightened. Perhaps he could still get his target after all.

As long as no one interfered again, he could have the Englishwoman by morning.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Evelyn stood perfectly still in the darkness, hardly daring to breathe as she listened to the conversation at the back door. She and Jens were concealed in the pantry off the kitchen accessed by going down three stone steps. The door at the top of the steps was closed and locked, but light shone through the crack between the floor and the door. A shadow had crossed in front of the pantry on the way to answer the insistent knocking, and now she strained to listen to the conversation, her heart pounding. She could only make out a few words through the heavy door, but they were enough to convince her that the man outside was German. The accent was unmistakable, at least to her.

Jens stood unmoving beside her and she could hear his shallow breathing as he struggled to catch his breath. He was still breathless. For that matter, so was she. They had run for all they were worth with the tall man closing the distance between them. Evelyn was sure he was going to catch them when they ran down the alleyway. In fact, she still wasn’t sure that they were safe.

The SS had found her after all. They must have been watching Asp, waiting for her to show up. But how did they know she would go there? They had to have been only guessing that she would pass the packet on to him, but it seemed like an awfully large risk. It was one she wasn’t sure she would have taken. Yet it had paid off for them. She had shown up, and they had almost trapped her. While the tall man chased them on foot, another one was in a black sedan. He had turned into the road just as they were crossing to go into the alleyway. She hadn’t been able to get a good look at him, but the car had Belgian tags on it. It wasn’t a local returning home late that had tried to cut them off at the field.

The conversation at the back door ended and she heard the click of the door closing, and then the sound of footsteps crossing the kitchen. She and Jens stood listening to the ensuing silence. The seconds ticked by and he looked at her, nodding to the door. Evelyn shook her head, motioning to wait a minute longer. After what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps returned to the kitchen. A shadow appeared beneath the door and the lock was unlatched. The door swung open and light poured into the darkness, making her blink in the sudden brightness.

“You can come out now,” the man with the pipe told them, motioning them out. “They’re gone.”

“Are you sure?” Jens asked, going up the steps.

“I watched them drive away.” The man watched them climb out of the pantry and closed the door after them. “They may come back, though. You must leave quickly.”

Evelyn looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Thank you for everything, Marcel.”

Marcel waved her thanks away. “Did Asp seem suspicious of the package I made?”

“He didn’t even look at it,” Jens told him. “He just put it away. Unfortunately, he was suspicious of Marie.”

Marcel frowned. “What happened?”

“It’s my fault. She introduced herself as Annette, but then I slipped and started to call her Marie. It turns out he already knew the SS were looking for a woman named Marie who had traveled from Brussels.”

“They must have been there earlier.” Marcel looked from one to the other. “What did you do? How did you convince him that he was wrong?”

“We didn’t.” Evelyn sank onto the edge of a seat at the kitchen table. “He tried to...well, to be honest, I’m not sure what he tried to do. He lunged for me, and before any of us knew what was happening, he had pulled a gun.”

“What?!”

“Jens struggled with him,” she said, suddenly very tired. “He lost his footing and fell, hitting his head on the mantel first and then falling on the fireplace poker. Asp is dead.”

Marcel stared at her, speechless. Jens moved to stand beside her, laying his hand on her shoulder.

“It was an accident,” he told Marcel defensively. “He was trying to strangle me and I pushed him away. He tripped and fell backwards. I couldn’t stop it.”

“My God,” Marcel breathed, running a hand through his hair. “What did you do with him?”

“What could we do? We left him there.”

Marcel turned to pace across the kitchen restlessly, then turned back, a worried frown on his face.

“I can’t pretend to be upset, and I know there won’t be many in this village who will be, but