His eyes narrowed sharply when a tall man in an unremarkable brown coat turned the corner, walking towards him. Mikhail waited until he had passed before stopping to look in the window of a shop on the corner. It was him. Eisenjager.
Mikhail shot a look sideways and watched as he stopped near the end of a building, looking across the street before turning the corner. As soon as he disappeared from sight, Mikhail moved quickly, retracing his steps until he reached the corner. Instead of going around it, he leaned against the building and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter with a mirror finish. Bending his head to light a cigarette, he angled the lighter slightly to give him a small view around the corner. Not seeing the tall man reflected, he turned the corner, pausing to slip the lighter back into his pockets. His eyes swept the narrow street quickly just in time to see Eisenjager disappear into an alley halfway towards the waterfront.
Casting another glance over the street, he crossed it quickly and moved down the road until he was opposite the alley. As he passed it, he glanced across the street and into the narrow space between the buildings. Eisenjager was leaning against one of the buildings, looking at the end of the street where a bevy of activity surrounded the entrance to one of the wharves. British soldiers swarmed around a makeshift checkpoint that had already been established to prevent unauthorized people like himself from getting anywhere near the cruiser docked there.
A small smile curved Mikhail’s lips as he continued down the street towards the wharf entrance. Eisenjager had obviously determined that if the British agent was going to try to leave Norway, she would do so from that wharf. How he had figured it out was immaterial. If Eisenjager was watching the only approach to the wharf, he clearly expected his prey to come by.
Reaching the end of the street, Mikhail turned left to double back to a narrow lane he hoped would lead to the other end of that alley. He would have to be quick. If the German agent was in position, he didn’t have much time.
Evelyn thanked the newspaper vendor and turned away, relief rolling through her. According to the wizened old man, the British had been unloading troops and supplies for the past three hours down at the docks. Not only had she made it into Namsos, but it seemed as if everything was still on schedule. She just might make it out yet.
Tucking the newspaper she’d purchased from him in thanks for the help under her arm, she ran across the street and started up the sidewalk. He’d told her to turn left at the corner and then follow the road straight to the wharves. The smell of saltwater filled her nostrils and she breathed deeply in the tangy scent of ocean...and freedom. She was almost there.
Turning the corner, Evelyn found herself standing at the top of a long, narrow street that ran at an angle down to the water. The sight of the familiar brown and green uniforms that greeted her caused another wave of emotion to wash over her, and she felt her throat tighten in response.
Switching her suitcase to her other hand, Evelyn self-consciously tucked the rife to her side as she began to make her way down the street. She had no idea what ship Lt. Commander Wheeler was on, nor how to find him, but that didn’t seem to matter right now. She had made it this far, through the mountains and the snow, through the SS unit that had cost Peder his life, to end up here, just yards away from freedom. She hadn’t thought she would make it, and if not for Erik and his tough truths, Evelyn suspected she would have given up the night Peder died. Yet here she was, garnering a mix of shocked and curious looks from men and women alike as she made her way through the waterfront town toting a rifle over her shoulder and a battered suitcase and toiletries case that looked as if they had been through the wars.
Her lips twisted suddenly as she caught sight of her reflection in a window and a shot of amusement went through her. What would Miles say if he could see her right now? Good heavens, she would be mortified if anyone she knew saw her like this, but especially Miles! Not that he would even recognize her. No trace of the genteel aristocrat was visible. She looked more like a homeless vagabond than the wealthy socialite that she was. She shook her head and tightened her grasp on the toiletries case. It would be interesting trying to get someone to take her seriously once she reached the dock. It would be a miracle if she could get anyone to listen to her, and who would blame them?
A large group of marines were marching towards her, and Evelyn looked around. There was nowhere to move out of their way, so instead she ducked into the street, crossing to the opposite pavement. Once she reached it, she paused and turned to watch them march on, a strange feeling of pride going through her. Sending up a quick prayer for their safety, she turned to continue on her way, her eyes on the entrance to the wharf ahead of her.
British soldiers and officers were moving in and out of the quay in organized chaos while two Royal marine guards stood watching everyone who approached the entrance. The checkpoint was reinforced by two automatic rifles mounted on walls of packed sandbags, one on each side of the entrance. She could
