“Francois, please let Madame Buckley know that Miss. Ainsworth has arrived. Tell her we’ll be with her shortly.”
“Very good, sir.”
Bill motioned Evelyn to an armchair as Francois silently left the room.
“Have a seat,” he said, taking the chair opposite as soon as she’d seated herself. “How did it go yesterday? I understand there was an unexpected visitor.”
Evelyn looked at him, startled. “However did you know?”
He smiled ruefully. “I received a telephone call from London. They were in something of a tizzy. One of our men at the train station saw a Gestapo agent follow Karl out of Germany. Did you see him?”
Evelyn bit back a short laugh. “I did more than just see him,” she murmured. “I had a nice, long chat with him.”
Bill stared at her, his thick brows snapping together in consternation.
“What?!”
“It’s quite all right,” she assured him. “He was very civil. His friend, on the other hand, was not so pleasant.”
“You’d better tell me exactly what happened. Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”
“When I got to the café, Karl was there. He was surprised to see me, but once I explained what happened to his usual contact, he seemed more amenable. He told me he’d been followed by a German agent and that he was sitting across the street, watching us.”
“Did he know who he was?” Bill asked.
“He knew his name, but that was all. He thought he was Gestapo.”
“He wasn’t?”
“No. He’s a Security Service agent, which is something different, apparently. From what Karl said, I gather they are different branches of the same tree. He said they can be more dangerous.”
“He’s right,” Bill said grimly. “Himmler is gathering all the security agencies under the same umbrella, but they all still work independently from each other.”
“Karl was concerned about getting back to Munich. He doesn’t know why they allowed him to cross the border, but he’s convinced they know he’s been moving information out of Germany. Well, it quickly became obvious that he was caught between a rock and a hard place.”
Bill eyed her with misgiving. “That is the risk he took when he agreed to provide us with information. It’s the risk they all take.”
“Yes, but what was I supposed to do? Go on my merry way and leave him to a fate worse than death?” Evelyn demanded.
The look of misgiving on Bill’s face grew. “What did you do?”
“I went across the street to talk to the agent.”
“You did what?!” Bill exclaimed, his voice rising.
Evelyn shrugged, unaffected by the near bellow.
“What could he do to me in the middle of a busy street in France at luncheon?” she asked rationally. “Admittedly, I wasn’t thinking very clearly and perhaps, given everything that happened later, I shouldn’t have done it, but at the time it seemed like the most logical thing to do.”
“Logical? To confront the German Security Service?!”
“Karl said that they must have learned that he was passing information out of Germany, and that that was why they followed him. It occurred to me that if they could be offered an alternative reason for him to come into France and meet with someone, perhaps it would cause just enough doubt to delay their arrest, giving Karl enough time to get home and get his family to safety. He said he had a place he could take them, and that he could be gone in twenty-four hours.”
“So you were trying to buy him twenty-four hours?” Bill asked slowly, staring at her with an unreadable look on his face.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“What on earth did you tell the agent?” he demanded after a long moment.
“That I was a journalist, writing a series of articles on the economic boom that Germany is experiencing under Hitler. I told him I was trying to convince my readers that Hitler is doing great things for Germany, and that our own leaders would do well to follow his example. It was all a load of bosh, of course, but I tried to make it as convincing as possible.”
“What paper did you use? What name? Good God, Evelyn, they will have checked everything you said before Karl even made it through the border.”
“I know. That’s why I used a real reporter and paper,” she replied. “There’s a woman, Maggie Richardson, who writes for the Evening Standard. She just finished a series of articles about the Tour de France.”
Bill got up and strode to his desk, waving his hand impatiently when she paused.
“Continue. I’m just writing this down.”
“Well, I explained who I was and what I was doing.”
“And what did he do?” Bill asked, looking up from the paper where he was scrawling the name she’d given him. His gaze was sharp and the eyes that pierced hers were somber. “What did he say?”
“He asked me quite a few questions,” Evelyn admitted. “He was trying to make me contradict myself, I think.”
“And did you?”
She looked at him scornfully. “I’m not a complete idiot! Of course not. I did have to do some quick thinking, though. I ended up telling him that I stole Karl as a source from another reporter.”
Bill straightened and looked at her thoughtfully. “Did you? That’s very good.”
“Well, I didn’t know how much he knew, you see. If he knew that Karl had been meeting with a man, for instance, and then there I was, it would have the opposite effect of what I was trying to accomplish. It was all rather nerve-wracking, but in the end, I think it may have done the trick. At least, I hope so, for Karl’s sake.”
“What about the package?” Bill asked, returning to his seat with a notepad and pencil. “Did Karl keep it?”
