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

Hans was himself, with jet black hair and a perfect pencil mustache. He looked completely unremarkable, forgettable almost, and Hans wondered if this was really the fearsome assassin who had tales whispered about him in the canteens. He looked more like a salesman or businessman than a vicious killer.

“None aside from what you’re doing here,” he finally said, “or why you felt it necessary to pull a gun on your superior.”

The smile Eisenjager gave him was chilling.

“But you’re not my superior,” he said softly. “You are nothing to me. I am not part of your world anymore.”

Hans glowered but couldn’t argue. All of Canaris’s spies were sheltered and exempt from the standard code of hierarchy that governed every other branch of the military.

“What brings you to Marle?” he asked tightly, turning his attention back to the little house across the street.

“I’m looking for someone. I was sent here to consult with Asp. When I saw you here earlier today, I contacted Hamburg. We’ve been instructed to work with each other, as our respective operations have regrettably collided.”

Hans shot him a look over his shoulder. “Work together? I hardly think that’s necessary.”

Eisenjager shrugged. “You may, of course, contact your superiors in Berlin and verify the order.”

Hans pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing. The assassin was too confident. It had to be true. If he contacted Berlin for confirmation, he would merely be wasting precious time, and possibly miss catching his courier all together.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, turning back to watch the house. “Who is your target?”

“A young Belgian. He fled from Brussels two days ago. I’ve been tracking him ever since. And you?”

“I’m looking for a courier. She took possession of a packet in Antwerp last week and we want it back before it falls into the hands of the English.” Hans flicked him an assessing look. “What is your business with the Belgian?”

Eisenjager didn’t answer but merely looked back, amused. Hans was betrayed into a snort of laughter.

“Of course. Well, if possible, I’d like my courier alive. There are some questions I’d like answered.”

“I don’t see any reason for either of us to get in each other’s way,” Eisenjager said smoothly. “I’ve made arrangements with the agent inside. Hamburg believes that my target is carrying information stolen from the Belgian State Security department. Asp will turn out the lamp in the front window and draw the curtains to signal that my target is inside. I will take it from there.”

Hans was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “I will watch and allow my courier to make contact with Asp,” he said, sharing his plan reluctantly. “If she gives him the package, he will let her leave through the front door. If she does not, he will have her leave by the side door, at which point I will then pursue her.”

“Very well. I don’t see any reason we should get in each other’s way. Unless, of course, they arrive at the same time. But that’s unlikely to happen, isn’t it?”

Hans nodded. Both men were silent for a moment, and then Hans glanced at him.

“It’s unlikely, but if it were to happen, mine must take priority. The package she carries is wanted back by High Command. If it were to fall into the hands of the British, it could have very grave consequences.”

Eisenjager considered him for a moment and Hans had the impression that he was weighing every angle of every scenario behind that expressionless facade. Finally, he nodded curtly.

“Agreed.”

Hans relaxed and turned back to the house. “Good.”

The two men fell silent again and Hans wondered how on earth it had come to be that his operation had coincided with that of an assassin. He may work for Canaris, and he may gather information on occasion, but everyone knew that Eisenjager’s primary responsibility was to dispatch souls to the afterlife, if there was such a thing as an afterlife. In this instance, however, it appeared that Eisenjager was to be both spy and assassin at the same time.

“How do—”

Hans broke off as he looked around. The assassin had disappeared just as silently as he had come. Disconcerted, Hans scowled and turned his gaze back to the house cloaked in long shadows as the sun sank beyond the horizon. He’d never liked Eisenjager, he remembered suddenly, hunching his shoulders and burying his hands deeper into his pockets. It didn’t matter that he’d never met him before this evening. He had never liked the idea of him. He had been trained by the SS, excelling in all areas, but instead of advancing into the SD as Hans had himself, he had gone over to the Abwehr instead. No one knew why, or even when. As far as Hans was concerned, the man had abandoned his family, and that was something the SS just didn’t do.

His personal feelings on the man, however, didn’t matter at the moment. Eisenjager had his mission, and he had his. The assassin was welcome do whatever it was that he did best, just as long as he didn’t interfere with Hans’ courier. The woman was all Hans cared about.

Getting that package back was all that mattered.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Evelyn and Jens stood before the door of a two-story, stone house at the end of the road. It sat on a corner with a house on one side and an open field across the road on the other. It looked much like every other house around it, with nothing to set it apart aside from the crooked plaque next to the door that looked as though it had seen better days.

“Are you sure this is it?” Jens asked doubtfully.

“It’s what Luc wrote down,” she replied, passing him the slip of paper Luc had handed her the night before. “See for yourself.”

Jens glanced at the paper, then back at the house. Nodding, he raised his hand to knock, but the door opened suddenly before his knuckles could make contact with the heavy wood.

“Yes?”

A man stood before them dressed in gray