Glancing at the gold watch on her wrist, Evelyn moved towards the front door. She had plenty of time before she was due to meet Lars at the entrance of the station. There was no rush, and she had every intention of taking her time as she walked through the city. She may only have a few hours in Antwerp, but she wanted to enjoy what few hours she had. Would she ever come back?
The question popped into her mind as Evelyn’s heels clicked on the marble floor. If the Germans invaded, she didn’t see much hope of Belgian forces holding out for very long on their own. Even when the French and English came to support them, it would still be a fight they were unlikely to win. If the Germans took control of Belgium, Evelyn didn’t know if she would be able to return, and if she did, it certainly wouldn’t be for a sightseeing tour. A shame, really. She’d always loved to travel, and now that she was doing so much of it, she couldn’t take the time enjoy the places she was going.
Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention, and Evelyn glanced to her right. There, partially hidden behind a large potted plant, was a man seated in an armchair, flipping through a magazine. He had his legs crossed and his attention on the publication in his lap, but an icy chill went through her just the same. There was nothing overtly threatening about him. He seemed to be a man sitting in the lobby, waiting for someone. But she knew that he wasn’t. The hat on the small side table beside him was German-made, as were his shoes. He’d removed his coat, but she was willing to bet that that, too, was German, and probably black.
He was an SS agent. Evelyn was positive of that as she moved across the lobby towards the door. She’d seen enough of them that she was getting to know their look, and their tailors. Her heart began pounding in her chest and she took a deep, steadying breath. The movement that had drawn her attention had been him re-crossing his legs. The man hadn’t even glanced up from his magazine as she crossed the lobby. He wasn’t showing the least sign of interest in her, and Evelyn knew that if he was interested in her, he would be watching her now. Instead, he appeared engrossed in his magazine.
Watching him out of the corner of her eyes, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. From his position in the chair, he had a clear view of both the elevator and the stairs. He would be able to see who was coming and going, and then follow them without any issue or suspicion. Which begged the question: who was he waiting for? No one aside from Bill knew she was here, so it couldn’t possibly be her. Because of the spy known only as Henry, and his penchant for leaking her location every time she left England, the only person who knew anything about this side trip to Antwerp was Bill.
Exhaling, Evelyn was just beginning to breathe a little easier when the man looked up suddenly. He didn’t look at her, however, but instead directed his gaze to the stairs. Despite the fact that he didn’t appear to be interested in her, another chill went through her, and Evelyn glanced over her shoulder towards the stairs. The couple had started up the stairs, but a short, round man had come around the bend and was moving down the last few steps to the lobby. He was dressed in a brown suit that Evelyn immediately recognized as French and, as he descended the last few steps, the man in the chair closed his magazine.
“Enjoy your afternoon, miss,” the doorman said politely, drawing Evelyn’s attention as he opened the door for her.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I shall.”
She walked out of the hotel and threw up a hand to her head as she stepped into the street and a sharp wind caught her fashionable blue hat, tilting it to the side. As she straightened it, Evelyn glanced back through the glass doors into the lobby. The man was still in the chair, but all his attention was focused on the short newcomer in the brown suit. Turning away and starting down the sidewalk, Evelyn was conscious of a sense of relief. For once, it wasn’t herself caught in the sights of a German agent, but someone else. While she had nothing but sympathy for the Frenchman, she was very grateful that she was in the clear. She’d only been in Belgium for four hours. The last thing she wanted was to already be compromised when she’d just arrived.
As she made her way down the street towards a cigarette vendor on the corner, Evelyn allowed herself to relax. Bill had warned her that there would be SS agents in most of the hotels in Europe now, all watching and waiting. Until now, they had been watching and waiting for her, and she knew that she would back in the spotlight soon enough. The assassin known as Eisenjager had made that abundantly plain in Norway. But for this very moment, she was safe, and she was determined to enjoy the freedom as long as it lasted.
Chapter Six
Evelyn walked towards the main entrance of the train station, scanning the faces of the people milling around outside. Men and women hurried in and out of the busy station, creating a chaotic stream of constant human traffic. She’d wondered at the timing of her meeting with Lars when Bill said
