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

Hasebrouck and Doullens as well. They may have already been there. It seems like they’re hitting everywhere at once.”

“Oh my God,” Josephine breathed, sitting back in her chair heavily. “So many!”

“Those are only the ones we know about,” Luc said grimly. “One of the men said that he’d heard at least forty casualties already, all civilians.”

“And in Belgium?” Evelyn asked, going back to her seat with her steaming coffee. “What about the refugees?”

“No word yet, but if they’re blanketing us...” Marc’s voice trailed off. There was no need to finish the thought. They all understood.

Evelyn glanced at Jens to find his lips pressed together and his jaw clenched. Sensing her eyes on him, he looked at her and his expression softened slightly.

“What about Paris?” he asked suddenly, shifting his gaze to Marc and Luc.

“Still safe. They seem to be confining themselves to the border, although they did go as far south as Lyons.”

Josephine looked at Jens as he fell silent again, his forehead creased in worry. “Will you go back to Brussels?” she asked him. “After you take Marie to Paris, I mean?”

“Is it safe to go to Paris?” he asked, looking around. “If they’re bombing all these other towns and cities, won’t they also bomb Paris?”

“Heaven forbid,” Luc breathed earnestly.

Despite herself, Evelyn smiled faintly. Heaven forbid indeed! She couldn’t image in her precious Paris with bombs falling from the huge black shadows that she’d seen flying over them during their flight from Brussels.

“What do you think, Marie?” Jens asked, leaning forward. “I know you have to get back to your boss and to your home, but do you think it’s safe to do so just now?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps we should wait for a few hours and see what happens as the day goes on. If it looks as though Paris will become unsafe, then we can decide what to do then.”

“And remain here in the meantime?” he asked doubtfully.

Evelyn looked at Josephine. “Well, that’s if our hosts don’t mind,” she said.

Josephine waved her concern away. “Of course not! Stay as long as you like.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about Paris just yet,” Marc said, sipping his coffee. “The Germans are moving faster than any of us expected, but Paris is still in the heart of France. They have to get through the border first. If they manage that, then we can worry about Paris.”

“God-willing the army stops them before they can reach the border,” Josephine said. “In the meantime, an extra few hours here won’t make any difference, will they? Is it crucial that you get to Paris?”

“No, I suppose not.” Evelyn looked at Jens, noting the look of worry on his face. “Once we hear more news, we’ll decide where we’re going. If you’re really concerned, Jens, I can make my own way from here. You’ve already done so much for me. I’ll understand if you’d rather go back.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No, no. I said I’d see you safely to Paris, and I will. If you decide to go somewhere else, I’ll take you.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Jens nodded distractedly and reached for the bread. As he cut off some cheese, Evelyn met Josephine’s glance across the table. They had managed to talk him into staying for the day, at least. Now they just had to figure out what it was that he was hiding.

Chapter Twenty

Outside Valenciennes, France - 10am

Hans Voss sipped his coffee and studied the road map spread over the small table. He had exchanged his long black leather coat for one of brown cloth that blended more with the French population, and his foresight had served him well in the local café where he’d stopped to purchase a coffee and pastry. Although he spoke French well, he had a distinct accent. After a frosty reception, he explained that he was from Switzerland. Had he been dressed in his usual attire, the ruse would not have worked. As it was, however, the waiter had thawed noticeably. After all, the Swiss were just as much at risk from the Nazi war machine as the French.

He had arrived in France very late the night before, exhausted and irritable from driving all day on roads clogged with refugees. With every passing kilometer, the likelihood of catching up with the mysterious Marie Fournier grew more and more remote. He’d slept in his car overnight until the sound of military trucks rumbling by woke him. Shocked to see the sun already high in the sky, he’d watched the trucks until they passed, then pulled the car back onto the road to continue his hunt for the woman courier.

Now, looking at the map before him, Hans was forced to admit that he would never find her in the bustling city of Paris. She was too far ahead of him, if that even was her destination. Just because she had booked a train to Paris didn’t mean that she was necessarily going there. She could stop and disembark at any station between the border and Paris. The woman known as Marie Fournier was in the wind, and Hans Voss knew it.

He would have to approach it a different way, he decided, setting down his coffee and glancing at his watch. He may not know where she was, but he knew what she was doing. She was transporting a stolen package through the French network with the intention of it being passed on to MI6. He may not know where she was going, but he knew where the package was bound. The courier would have to pass it on to someone who could get it to MI6 quickly. Thanks to the brilliant job in Venlo, they had managed to decimate the majority MI6’s networks in Europe. There were only a few remaining and, as Hans well knew, the new members were very few and far between. That narrowed the possibilities for the woman. She would have to pass the package to someone well-known