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

it was out of the question. They couldn’t know she was in Paris. It would lead to too many questions; questions she was unable to answer. And so she had to hope and pray that they were watching the progress of the German armies, and planning accordingly.

“What time is it?”

Evelyn turned in surprise to find Jens struggling into a sitting position on the sofa, rubbing his face.

“Just past three.”

“Good Lord! That late?”

She nodded with a short laugh. “That late. We both slept the day away. I’ve only just got up myself.”

“What were you thinking of just now?” he asked. “When I woke up, you looked very sad.”

“I was just thinking of all the people here and what they will do if the Nazis make it into France,” she said, walking over to sit in a chair. “After seeing the panic in Brussels, I’m looking at Paris and wondering what will happen.” She was quiet for a minute, then she looked at him. “If France falls, will you go back to Brussels? It might be better than staying in a strange country.”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t think I can,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m a traitor to my country, and by now they know that. I don’t know what to do, to be honest. I feel lost now. My whole purpose for being here was to deliver the decoded messages. Now that I’ve done that, I don’t know what to do.”

Evelyn was silent, thinking. He was right. There was nothing for him in Belgium now, and yet there was nothing for him in France either.

“Why don’t you come back to England with me?” she asked, surprising both herself and Jens.

“What?”

She nodded, her brows creased in thought. “You’re skilled with wireless radios. That’s something that’s already in high demand, and if Hitler succeeds in defeating the French army, it will be in even higher demand.”

“You mean come and work for the British government?” Jens stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I think I am.” She nodded. “In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. You would be perfect for MI6. Not only do you speak Dutch and French, but you’re a Belgian native. You can help train agents to navigate through Belgium easily, and you can assist with wireless radios.”

“How do you know I’ll be allowed into England?” he asked. “And even if I do come back with you, how do you know your MI6 will give me a job?”

“I don’t, but with my recommendation you certainly have a better chance than you would without it.”

“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully.

“Jens, I really think it’s your best option right now,” she said gently. “As you say, you can’t go home. And if the Nazis overrun Paris, you can’t stay here. At least if you come with me, you have a chance to do something to continue the fight.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his lips drawn together in a pensive frown. Finally, he exhaled, blowing out his cheeks.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “At least from England I can do more to help my country than I can here.”

“Precisely.”

“But how will we get there? How were you planning to get home?”

“I was planning on taking a boat from Calais. I really need to contact London to let them know I’ve arrived in Paris. They may have a different route for me to take.”

“I can send a message with the radio,” he offered. “Is that who I sent the message to the other morning?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Yes.”

Jens nodded and stood up, stretching. “Very well. Let me use the bathroom and wash, and then I’ll get the radio and send a message. Write out what you want me to send.”

He walked out of the living room and Evelyn stood up, going over to the writing desk near the window. She would write out a message to Bill, telling him she was Paris and ready to come home, and she would say that she was bringing a Belgian radio operator with her. He would know the best way to get them back quickly.

As she sat down at the desk and picked up a pen, Evelyn felt a surge of relieved excitement go through her. She had made it out of Brussels in the midst of yet another invasion, and made it out of Marle in the midst of pursuit by the dreaded Gestapo. A trip to meet with Shustov had turned into a mad dash across Europe, but now she was in her beloved Paris, and she was safe.

And soon she would be going home.

Epilogue

13th May, 1940

Dear Evelyn,

It’s very late, but I couldn’t sleep and so I’m writing to you. I apologize in advance for any spelling errors or phrases that don’t make sense. I can barely see straight for as tired as I am, but my mind won’t stop churning, and so here I am scribbling in bed by the light of a very dim bulb. 

I received your letter yesterday, but I was a bit confused to be honest. I think you must have accidentally mailed the wrong one. I’ve noticed before that you don’t always remember to date your letters, and I think this time you might have mailed an earlier letter by mistake. You made no mention of Winston Churchill replacing Chamberlain, or of Hitler finally moving and invading Belgium, Holland and France all at the same time. I know that you must have opinions on all of the above, and can’t believe that you would have posted a letter without mentioning at least one of them. The only thing I can think is that you wrote one letter, then wrote another the following day and grabbed the wrong one. Is that what happened, love? I do hope you find the other one and send it to me. I’d love to hear your thoughts on everything that’s happened in the past few days. 

In lieu of your thoughts, I’ll give you mine, shall I? I