Now, crossing the wide tiled entryway towards the reading area, Evelyn glanced behind her. If there had been any doubt that she was being followed, it had been dispelled when he got off the tram at her stop. While there was no sign of him now, she had no doubt that he would reappear.
The library was an old, sprawling structure with tiled floor and heavy, ornate woodwork. Her heels echoed in the muted quiet of the vast building as she entered the main reading room. The area consisted of a collection of tables, some long enough for several people, and others intended for one person. A smattering of fellow patrons were already settled in at various tables with books and notebooks before them. One woman dressed in a smart gray suit had a variety of books spread out on a table, her head bent as she perused the pages of a thick tome, alternating between scribbling in a notebook and examining the text before her.
The smell of books and wood polish permeated the air, and Evelyn inhaled deeply, shifting her gaze to the wide, circular staircase that led to the second level. A wall of card catalogs separated the reading area from the circulation and periodicals side of the building and she eyed it briefly. The urge to go straight to the wooden drawers and find the card for A Treatise on Lepidoptera, Volume Three was almost overwhelming. All she wanted was to get the envelope and get out of the library without incident.
Swallowing, she turned to walk over to one of the tables towards the back of the immense room. Positioned towards the back corner, Evelyn would have a clear view of everyone who entered the area, as well as anyone who went up the wide circular stairs to the upper levels. Taking a deep breath, she moved towards the empty table. She had just seated herself when the man in the black overcoat moved across the wide lobby to the circulation desk.
Despite the fact that she’d known he would show up, her heart still thumped in her chest and she let out a soft gasp. Opening her purse, she pulled out a small notebook and pencil, silently thanking the heavens that she had long been in the habit of carrying them with her. It was something she had begun in Hong Kong when she went out with her father, wanting to capture the local sights and sounds for her diary. As she grew older, the habit continued, but she would never have believed that it would come to play such an important role in her own safety.
Evelyn’s hands shook as she set the notebook on the table and opened it to a fresh page. The man turned and looked across the vast expanse into the reading room, his dark eyes seeming to hone right into her in her corner. They passed on dispassionately, however, and he made his way over to the card catalog, disappearing behind the row of wooden drawers.
Exhaling, she picked up the pencil and stared at the page. She had to appear to be writing notes for her non-existent newspaper article, but Evelyn was suddenly paralyzed with not the faintest idea of what to write. Finally, after a moment of blinding uncertainty, she focused on what she imagined Karl might have said if he was discussing the economic advancements made under Hitler and the Nazi Party. Her hand began to move and words began to fill the page, fabricated anecdotes and stories flowing from one page to another in the small book. She kept her attention on the task before her, resolutely refusing to lift her eyes to look for the man following her. If he was watching her, she had to appear to be engrossed in her work.
In between two imaginary anecdotes, Evelyn found herself recording the disturbing story of the couple down the street from Karl and the tragic fate of their daughter. If the SS did indeed have that kind of power, it was terrifying to imagine what the reality was for many in Germany and Austria. Innocent citizens could be reported out of petty spite by their neighbors, just as that poor girl had been. As she wrote, Evelyn sucked in her breath in sudden understanding. Karl had related the incident in very matter-of-fact terms, illustrating louder than words how the Gestapo had become a permanent fixture in the life of every German citizen. They lived every day knowing that at any time, they could be approached and arrested for crimes they never committed.
Raising her eyes thoughtfully, Evelyn stared blindly across the library towards the card catalog. She had heard of the Gestapo, of course. They were hardly a secret. Somehow, she had always just assumed they were a police force that were a little more intimidating than the others. She never dreamt that they wielded such absolute power.
“The Security Service is the intelligence agency. They are a parallel organization to the Gestapo, but different. Some say they are more dangerous.”
Karl’s words came back to her and she bit the inside of her bottom lip. She had to get an envelope with microfilm out of a book and take it away under the very nose of one of them? She shivered violently and lowered her gaze back to the notebook before her.
She didn’t have to do this. She could finish writing in her book, get up, and then leave the library. She could return to Paris and carry on with her holiday, forgetting all about Karl and Herr Voss. After all, none of this had anything to do with her. She was a British subject, born into one of the oldest families in England, and bred to marry the same. The affairs of Europe and Germany were the province of men like her father and William Buckley,
