Night Falls on Norway Read online

  “Ooof!” Evelyn gasped as she collided with something tall and solid.

  “Well well, if it isn’t Assistant Section Officer Ainsworth!” She tilted her head back and peered up at Fred. “How goes the training?”

  “You mean, how went the training?” she asked, extracting herself from his arms and grimacing when a blast of wind smacked her in the face. “Where did you come from? I didn’t even see you!”

  “I’d noticed. Funny how we keep running into each other this way. Only I recall that the last time you did that, you apologized.”

  “I’m terribly sorry.” Evelyn tucked her arm into his and hurried him along towards the office building. “This wind is going to blow me away. Aren’t you bothered by it?”

  “Lord no. These flight jackets are terribly warm, y’know.” Despite his words, Fred hunched his shoulders against another blast of wind. “’Course, the wind is jolly brutal today.”

  They ran together up the steps of the building and sighed in unison as they burst into the warm interior.

  “Come into my office and have some tea. You can tell me what exciting news I’ve missed,” she said, unbuttoning her coat.

  “Where have you been?” he asked, following her down the hallway towards her office at the end. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

  “It’s only been two weeks, and you know I took some leave to visit my family,” she replied, opening the door and going into her office. Fred followed, closing it behind him as she took off her coat and hung it on the stand behind the door. “I was in Paris for a week, if you must know, having a wonderful time.”

  She crossed to the desk, glancing at the stack of mail in the center before reaching for the telephone.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, glancing at him.

  “Not a bit. Just tea, thanks.”

  Evelyn nodded and dialed the canteen, requesting tea to be sent round. When she hung up, she looked up to find that he’d shrugged out of his flight jacket and was straightening his uniform.

  “Paris? That sounds marvelous. Who do you know in Paris?” he asked, perching on the edge of her desk.

  “My mother is from France. Her sister still lives there with her family.”

  “Did you spend the whole week going to parties?”

  “Something like that.” She paused and looked at him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

  “I thought so. You look tired.”

  “Well, thank you very much!” she exclaimed, affronted.

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said hastily. “You just look a little pale, that’s all.”

  “That’s every bit as bad as tired!” Evelyn glared at him. “Are you saying I look like an old hag?”

  She swung around and marched to the small mirror that hung on the wall a few feet away.

  “Evelyn, I don’t think you will ever look like an old hag,” Fred announced. “You’re beautiful, and you know it.”

  She frowned and examined herself in the small, cheap mirror. He was right. She did look tired and pale. Who would have thought that a week in France and three days of code recognition would take so much out of her? Lifting her hands, she pinched her cheeks to try to get more color into them, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. As she did so, Fred’s face appeared in the mirror next to hers.

  “Darling, I really didn’t mean it. You’re beautiful.”

  Evelyn met his worried gaze in the glass and smiled.

  “But I’m not looking up to my usual standards. No, you’re right. I do look tired.” She sighed and turned away from the mirror, going back to the desk and dropping into her chair. She leaned her head back and stared up at him. “If I’m like this now, whatever will I look like if this war finally gets going?”

  “You’ll bloom!” Fred said promptly. “You’ve been working very hard. You’re always off somewhere training someone. I’m glad you got some time off to enjoy yourself in Paris. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t suppose that Lacey chap would have, would he?”

  “No. I don’t suppose he would have,” she said with a small smile.

  “You missed a jolly good party at the officers’ last night,” he said, returning to his perch on the edge of her desk.

  “Did I? Was anything broken?”

  Before he could answer, a knock fell on the door. She called to enter and a young WAAF came in bearing a tray with a teapot and cups and saucers.

  “Tea, ma’am,” she said smartly.

  Evelyn got up and met her to take the tray. “Thank you.”

  The WAAF nodded and saluted, then turned to leave the office, closing the door quietly behind her.

  “Nothing was broken. Only a few hearts,” Fred said with a wink.

  “Then was it really even a party?” she demanded with a laugh, carrying the tray over to the desk and setting it down. “Didn’t someone knock over a table at the last one? I could swear you told me something like that.”

  “It wasn’t a table. It was the punch bowl.” Fred grinned. “Nothing so exciting last night, but there was a fantastic band. Oh! Have you heard the news?”

  “What news?” Evelyn poured out a cup of tea and handed it to him.

  “Thanks. We’ve finally gone and done it!”

  She looked at him blankly. “Sorry? Who’s gone and done what?”

  “England. The RAF. Us. We’ve finally done it!” His eyes were shining and Evelyn recognized the look in them. It was a look she’d seen in Robbie’s eyes countless times when talking about his flying. It was a look of unsuppressed excitement.

  “What have we finally done? Really, Fred, sometimes you’re worse than a child!”

  Her dancing eyes and fond smile took the sting out of her words as he grinned, unrepentant.

  “We’ve gone and bombed Hörnum. It’s a German airfield on some island or other.”

  “Sylt.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The island of Sylt,” she said, sitting down with her tea. “It’s where Hörnum is.”

  “Then you know of it?” he asked, his eyebrows raising. “I had to look it up.”

  Evelyn shrugged. She knew all about the raid on Hörnum. She’d heard about it while she was still in Paris, but she couldn’t very well take the wind out of his sails.

  “What happened?”

  “Fifty of our bombers flew over there and bombed them.” Fred sipped his tea. “With bombs! Not bloody pamphlets! We’ve finally started showing some teeth. After all the convoys and patrols Jerry’s been bombing, we’re finally dishing some of it back.”

  “I’m not sure we should be so happy about that,” Evelyn murmured.

  Fred stared at her. “Why on earth not?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to fly over Germany and Poland? They don’t exactly roll out the welcome mat. We’ve been sending over pilots with nothing but paper. They could be killed all for a cargo full of pamphlets saying we’re right and Hitler’s wrong!”

  She sighed and nodded. “Yes. I know. I realize that, of course.”

  “Evie, don’t you realize what this means? It means that we’re finally going to get to do something other than fly useless training exercises. I’ll be able to see action at last!”

  Evelyn looked at him and saw the unbridled excitement in his eyes. She understood what it meant, all too well. But did he?

  “Is that what you want?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t every pilot?” he replied. “I want to get up there and give Jerry what for! And I’ll wager so does your Miles Lacey, and so does every other pilot worth his salt. They can’t be allowed to just take whatever they want.”

  She nodded. Of course he did, and he was right. It was what he, Miles, Robbie and hundreds of others had been trained to do. And they wanted to do it. They wanted to fight for their country. Everyone in England did. So why was she suddenly so unenthusiastic?


  “You’re right,” she said. “I just worry about what the war will bring now that the weather is improving.”

  “You worry too much,” he told her with a wink. “It’s because you work too hard. I think you need some time off. Come out to dinner with me tonight.”

  “I just had a week off!” she protested. “I can hardly claim to be overworked after traipsing off to Paris, can I?”

  “All right. You’re a slug who wastes her days,” he retorted, finishing his tea and sliding off her desk. “In which case, you need someone to keep you in line.”

  “And that’s you?” she asked with a laugh.

  He grinned and reached for his jacket. “None other. I’ll pick you up here at six.”

  “Have you got that door fixed yet?”

  “Why’d I do that? It lends a certain charm, don’t you think?”

  “I think it’s a disaster waiting to happen,” she said, watching as he shrugged into his flight jacket. “Mark my words, Fred Durton. It won’t be in a plane that you meet your Maker; it’ll be in that car!”

  Chapter Seven

  ––––––––

  Broadway Street, London

  Evelyn got out of the taxi and went up the steps to the nondescript, drab building. She didn’t even glance up at it anymore. The first time she’d come here, she’d thought she was in the wrong place. Now she was a regular.

  She went in and nodded to the young man behind the front desk. He nodded back and lowered his eyes to his work, dismissing her. Evelyn strode past the desk and opened a door that led down a corridor to a flight of steps, and the labyrinth that was MI6’s headquarters in London.

  After glancing at her watch, she jogged lightly up the steps and smiled at the armed soldier at the top.

  “Good morning, Harry,” she said cheerfully, holding out her identification card for inspection. “How are you today?”

  “I’m well, Miss Ainsworth, thank you.” He nodded and looked at her card. “It’s always nice to see you. It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

  “Two, but you already knew that,” she said in amusement. “I doubt very much gets past you at all, Harry.”

  “I do my best.” He looked up and finally smiled, stepping back so that she could proceed. “Have a nice day.”

  She nodded and moved down the long corridor. When she’d first visited, she’d been shown the way to Jasper Montclair’s office by a moody woman whom she’d never seen again, but Harry had been on duty then, and every day since. She honestly couldn’t image ever coming to the top of the stairs and not seeing his curly black hair. Once she’d asked Bill if the personnel ever changed in the house on Broadway. He had looked faintly shocked and replied that if the personnel ever changed, they would be in dire straights indeed.

  Coming to the last door before another set of stairs, Evelyn knocked once and reached for the handle.

  “Come in!”

  She turned the handle and entered the large corner office, a ready smile on her face.

  “Good morning, Mr. Monclair. It’s a lovely day outside.” She closed the door and turned to look at William Buckley, who had risen at her entrance. “Good morning, Bill.”

  “Good morning.” He nodded to her. “Did you have a pleasant drive in?”

  “I did indeed! Fantastic driving weather!”

  Jasper Montclair had stood up behind his desk and, as she spoke, he moved out from behind it to come forward, holding out his hand.

  “I’ve been here since five. It wasn’t as pleasant then,” he said with a laugh. “I’m glad you came. Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” She shook his hand and moved to take the chair across from Bill. “You should really get out at least for a walk.”

  “A walk?” He raised his thick eyebrows and looked at her askance. “Really, my dear. This is London. We drive.”

  Evelyn laughed and set her purse beside her on the chair.

  “You’re wasting a gorgeous spring day,” she told him, removing her gloves. “But to each his own.”

  “You’ll never convince him,” Bill told her. “He takes the car to the post office, which is right around the corner. It takes longer for his driver to pull around than it takes me to walk.”

  “I’ll leave the exercise to the youth,” Jasper retorted, seating himself again. “How was France?” he asked, turning his gaze to Evelyn.

  “It was very nice. Paris was lovely, but then it always is. Metz was stunning. I can’t think why I’ve never gone before.” Evelyn finished removing her gloves and laid them on her lap, smiling across the desk at the man who ruled over them all. “But I don’t suppose you care about the scenery, do you? Everything is in my report.”

  “Yes, I read it. Tell me, how did you find our French associate?”

  Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “She seemed the same as she was the last time I saw her, but I’ll admit that I’ve changed since then. She may have as well. Why do you ask?”

  Jasper sat back in his chair and gazed at her pensively for a long moment. His bushy eyebrows were pulled over his eyes, giving him the look of an unsettled bulldog.

  “Bill has shared with you the state of our networks in Europe, yes?”

  Evelyn swallowed and glanced at her immediate boss. He shrugged.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re trying to rebuild them as quickly as we can but, as I’m sure you understand, we have to be necessarily cautious in our recruitment of agents. The Nazis know we’re trying to rebuild, and they will be trying to insert people into any new system that we form. It’s even more imperative now that we protect and maintain the networks we have left.”

  “Are you concerned that she might be turned by the Germans?” Evelyn asked. “I think that a very remote possibility. She’s doing everything she can to pass on information about them to the outlets where she thinks it will cause the most damage.”

  “Yes, thank God. Deuxième Bureau is in something of a muddle at the moment, or so I’m told. They’re still gathering intelligence from their agents, but how that information is being disseminated is rather disjointed.”

  “I’ve received the impression that Paul Reynaud is sympathetic to the efforts of the intelligence community,” she said slowly, a frown knitting her brow. “Is that not the case? I thought him taking over as Prime Minister would be beneficial to the war effort.”

  “Yes, yes, he is. In fact, he’s already put forth some rather bold ideas for collaboration between Britain and France that show he is serious about fighting this war, and winning at all costs. But he’s kept many members of the old cabinet in positions that make it difficult to get the right people to listen to the right intelligence.” Jasper sat forward and his frown grew. “I have no doubt that the dust will settle soon, but for now we have to maintain and build what contacts we can, and make sure those contacts are viable and, above all else, reliable.”

  “I believe that to be the case, at least as far as Josephine is concerned.” Evelyn looked at Bill. “You would know better than me. I’ve only met her twice. You’ve seen the intelligence she’s been gathering for the past two years.”

  “Yes, and I agree that she falls into the category of both reliable and stable,” he agreed with a nod. “Her information has always been verified as correct by independent sources. This last lot was confirmed by an agent in Poland that she couldn’t possibly have any knowledge of or association with.”

  “Good!” Jasper’s countenance lightened somewhat. “That’s what I want to hear. Do we have many more like her in France?”

  Bill nodded.

  “I have about four others, but they all report to the DB,” he said. “It was the only way I could set up the extensive network that I did before the war began.”

  Evelyn was silent as they talked, her mind going to Nicolas and Gisele. This was the perfect opportunity to mention them, but she hesitated to do so. While she had no doubt
that her cousins would be perfect agents, she was reluctant to drag them into this world of hers unless it became clear that France was going to fall. The danger was too real, and the cost too high to subject them to it unless it became absolutely necessary.

  “It’s a start, at least.” Jasper turned his attention back to Evelyn. “I understand you’ve been learning Norwegian and Swedish.”

  “It seemed appropriate after November,” she said with a sheepish smile. “While my translator was lovely, it wasn’t ideal being unable to understand the language.”

  “I agree. How is it coming?”

  “I’m fluent in both now.”

  He blinked and stared at her in astonishment. “Pardon?”

  Bill was betrayed into a low chuckle.

  “Welcome to the linguistic mystery of Miss Evelyn Ainsworth,” he said, his eyes dancing. “I think we all gave up trying to comprehend how she does it a long time ago.”

  “You’re completely fluent?” Jasper repeated.

  She nodded. “Yes. My accent could use some work, but if I’m not trying to pass myself off as a Norwegian, it is acceptable.”

  “And if you were passing yourself off as French? Or German?”

  “More than sufficient.”

  Jasper sat back in his chair and shook his head, a reluctant smile crossing his face.

  “Is there anything else I should know? Have you gone and mastered Swahili as well?”

  She laughed. “Not yet.”

  “I do enjoy how she says yet,” Jasper said to Bill with a grin. “How’s the Japanese coming?”

  “I’m still working on that. I haven’t had very much time to devote to it. Norwegian and Swedish seemed to be the more pressing need.”

  “Agreed, especially now.” Jasper nodded. “You’re going back to Norway, I’m afraid.”