The Iron Storm by CW Browning (classic literature books TXT) 📕

put it out in the ashtray, pressing it into the bowl while he studied her thoughtfully.

“I do,” he said quietly and with confidence. “They’re already making preparations. In fact, just today, a motorized column was seen moving west through the Ardennes from Germany.”

“The Ardennes!” Evelyn gasped, staring at him. “But...why haven’t the Belgian forces stopped them?”

Jens made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Because no one believes it’s the German army. Your country, my country, and even England all think that it’s impossible to move troops through the Ardennes. It is too heavily wooded, and the roads are too narrow.”

“And yet you say columns were seen going through?”

“That’s what the report said this afternoon.” Jens shook his head and reached for his drink. “But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about you. Have you always lived in Paris?”

“No. I come from a little village in the south of France,” she lied easily, accommodating the change in subject without flinching. “I went to Paris to take a secretarial course, and loved it so much that I stayed. I’ve been there for two years now.”

“I’d love to go. Is it as beautiful as the photographs make it look?”

“More.” Evelyn smiled wistfully. “To go shopping on the Champs-Élysées and then stroll towards the Arc de Triomphe...well, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

“And the restaurants? And the nightlife?”

“There’s nothing like it anywhere,” she said promptly. “You really must come visit and see for yourself.”

“I hope to soon. I actually have an...associate who lives just north of Paris. He’s been trying to get me to go for a holiday.”

Evelyn smiled, not missing the slight hesitation before he settled on the word associate. It wasn’t a friend in France then, and that slight hesitation told her it wasn’t a work associate either.

“If you decide to go, I’ll be happy to return the favor and show you some of Paris,” she said cheerfully. “It’s the least I can do for you when you’ve brought me here to dinner and saved me from eating a very solitary and lonely meal in my hotel.”

Jens laughed. “Oh, that’s all right,” he said, waving away the remark. “I’m always looking for an excuse to come here. What hotel are you staying at?”

“Hotel Le Plaza. Do you know it?”

“Do I know it? Of course I do. Everyone in Brussels knows it!” He looked at her in some awe. “Your boss must be very prominent indeed if you’re staying there!”

Evelyn smiled and shrugged. “He’s been very successful in some mining ventures,” she said. “I must admit that I’m enjoying the hotel, but I’m glad you invited me tonight. I’m having a wonderful time!”

Jens smiled and pushed back his chair, standing and holding out his hand.

“So am I. Come. Let’s dance.”

“And forget all about what might happen tomorrow?” she asked, placing her hand in his and getting to her feet.

His brown eyes met hers and he smiled warmly.

“Precisely.”

Chapter Eleven

May 9

Evelyn glanced up at the ornate door looming over her and reached for the handle. The Church of St. Michael & St Gudula was a massive Gothic structure that dominated an entire block of Brussels. Built from white stone, it was a towering expression of elegance and stunning architecture. She had no doubt that the number of faithful who came to worship here were at least partially drawn by the beauty of the church, if not entirely.

Pulling open the door, she stepped out of the bright morning sun and into the darkened, hallowed walls of the ancient church. The smell of incense filled her nostrils and Evelyn swallowed, allowing the door to close behind her. She glanced at her watch in the gloom of the interior vestibule and exhaled silently. It was just before ten o’clock, and she had come in through the side as instructed in the terse note from Shustov the day before. Her footsteps echoed on ancient marble as she moved into the main sanctuary, looking around curiously.

The inner sanctum was deserted this time of the morning, but the candles burning at the base of statues on either side of the massive altar in the front of the church indicated that she was not the first visitor today. After looking at the altar for a moment and taking in the stained glass window set far above in the back of the half-moon shaped chancel, Evelyn turned to look down the long nave of the church. It was lined on either side by massive, stone columns supporting ornate statues high above the rows of seating for the faithful. Raising her eyes to the statue closest to her, she let out a soft gasp at the work of art fixed onto the column. It was a man standing on a stone platform, dressed in the robes of the time of Christ. The marble beneath the statue proclaimed St. Thomas. He held a golden staff and seemed to be holding his hand up and expounding upon some prayer to the heavens. After a moment of staring up at the likeness of one the apostles, Evelyn tore her eyes away and scanned the long aisle of the nave. Six columns on either side supported twelve statues, all twelve of the Apostles of Christ.

Glancing once more at the benign being encased in stone above her, she turned to walk towards the back of the church, looking for the statue of St. Simon. There was no sign of Vladimir, but she knew he must be here. He would show himself when he was ready, and that wouldn’t be until she’d located St. Simon and taken a seat, just as he had instructed. She shifted her purse to her other arm and was annoyed to find that her hand was trembling. Her lips pressed together in a frown and a wave of irritation went through her. This was ridiculous. There was no reason to be nervous. She was here because Shustov - Vladimir - wanted to speak to her. That was all. There was