Marseilles in three weeks' time. The bullion is arriving from Cadiz. It will be loaded in Marseilles and delivered in Hamburg. I have written down the details.'
Chainbridge whistled quietly. The shop was closed for lunch and with him was a tall distinguished gentleman, smartly attired who was introduced to her as Mr. Jackson.
‘ May I ask how you got the information?’ he enquired.
Eva smiled at him coyly. ‘A lady must have her secrets. However, I can guarantee that nobody realises that I have learnt anything.'
Chainbridge took the piece of paper she passed to him, scanned it quickly and whistled again. ‘Excellent, Eva, thank you. Now, I have another task for you, should you agree to accept it.'
'What would you have me do now?' she asked somewhat sharply.
'We would like you to go to Spain?'
'Spain?' Now Eva was interested.
'Of course, if you do not feel up for it ….'
'I'm listening. I assume you want me to learn more about the German and Nationalist network down there.'
'Not just a pretty face,' Mr. Chanbridge commented appreciatively. 'Exactly. You are not a known operative. You are not even British. Nobody there will realise that your government is in any way involved in this.'
'So what do I do?'
'A colleague of ours, Mr. De Witte, will be here shortly. He will accompany you to Southampton and brief you. From Southampton you will return to Paris and make contact with a a Soviet advisor named ‘Spassky’ who will escort you to Spain and brief you further from their perspective along the way. The objective is to learn as much about their operations as possible, who are their liaisons in Berlin and how they communicate with them. And I wish you the very best of luck. You are a very plucky girl. I wish you were one of ours.’
Twenty minutes later Eva was collected in a taxi by De Witte who, to her surprise, was blind and, even more to her surprise, proved to be excellent company. The ferry from Sothampton took her to Calais and from there she travelled on to Paris where Yvette supplied her with a gun and Eva arranged to meet 'Spassky' who turned out to be a female Russian agent based in Barcelona. They were to travel together. At the Gare D’Austerlitz they both took the Perpignan train, and from there crossed the Pyrenees into Spain posing as journalists.
Chapter 4
London, 1938
Henry Chainbridge sat back deep into the leather chair. The rain was lashing the windows of his small chambers above his shop, Chainbridge Books, ‘ Fine prints and antiquities a speciality ’. Opposite him on a well-worn leather sofa sat Eva and her handler, Peter De Witte. Both looked drained from the train journey out of Germany, across France and over the Channel.
Eva was one of three agents he had sent to Munich and the only one to return alive. A silver pot of coffee and fine china were placed on a low table by an Indian woman dressed in a brightly coloured sari. As quietly as she appeared, she slipped back into the shadows with a discreet bow.
Eva’s information ahead of their arrival had raised eyebrows in Whitehall: Poland was to be divided between Germany and Russia. The Soviets had commenced a new rail link using gulag labour beneath the city of Moscow itself. They were also involved in deep mining near the city of Tyumen, in Siberia, again for unspecified reasons. Despite the rapprochement between the Soviet Union and Germany, Stalin did not trust Hilter an inch.
Chainbridge let his cigarette burn down to the filter before stubbing it out. In the event of an attack, Lenin’s tomb would be a priority evacuation, probably to Tyumen. He re-read the last sentence, slowly blowing out smoke.
‘ Are they serious..?’ His voice was warm, whiskey and tobacco mellowed, and hinted a university education. There were still traces of his native Belfast accent when he spoke at length.
Eva noted that behind him, on his long bookshelves in pristine lines, stood leather-bound ancient Greek and Cyrillic
Chainbridge whistled quietly. The shop was closed for lunch and with him was a tall distinguished gentleman, smartly attired who was introduced to her as Mr. Jackson.
‘ May I ask how you got the information?’ he enquired.
Eva smiled at him coyly. ‘A lady must have her secrets. However, I can guarantee that nobody realises that I have learnt anything.'
Chainbridge took the piece of paper she passed to him, scanned it quickly and whistled again. ‘Excellent, Eva, thank you. Now, I have another task for you, should you agree to accept it.'
'What would you have me do now?' she asked somewhat sharply.
'We would like you to go to Spain?'
'Spain?' Now Eva was interested.
'Of course, if you do not feel up for it ….'
'I'm listening. I assume you want me to learn more about the German and Nationalist network down there.'
'Not just a pretty face,' Mr. Chanbridge commented appreciatively. 'Exactly. You are not a known operative. You are not even British. Nobody there will realise that your government is in any way involved in this.'
'So what do I do?'
'A colleague of ours, Mr. De Witte, will be here shortly. He will accompany you to Southampton and brief you. From Southampton you will return to Paris and make contact with a a Soviet advisor named ‘Spassky’ who will escort you to Spain and brief you further from their perspective along the way. The objective is to learn as much about their operations as possible, who are their liaisons in Berlin and how they communicate with them. And I wish you the very best of luck. You are a very plucky girl. I wish you were one of ours.’
Twenty minutes later Eva was collected in a taxi by De Witte who, to her surprise, was blind and, even more to her surprise, proved to be excellent company. The ferry from Sothampton took her to Calais and from there she travelled on to Paris where Yvette supplied her with a gun and Eva arranged to meet 'Spassky' who turned out to be a female Russian agent based in Barcelona. They were to travel together. At the Gare D’Austerlitz they both took the Perpignan train, and from there crossed the Pyrenees into Spain posing as journalists.
Chapter 4
London, 1938
Henry Chainbridge sat back deep into the leather chair. The rain was lashing the windows of his small chambers above his shop, Chainbridge Books, ‘ Fine prints and antiquities a speciality ’. Opposite him on a well-worn leather sofa sat Eva and her handler, Peter De Witte. Both looked drained from the train journey out of Germany, across France and over the Channel.
Eva was one of three agents he had sent to Munich and the only one to return alive. A silver pot of coffee and fine china were placed on a low table by an Indian woman dressed in a brightly coloured sari. As quietly as she appeared, she slipped back into the shadows with a discreet bow.
Eva’s information ahead of their arrival had raised eyebrows in Whitehall: Poland was to be divided between Germany and Russia. The Soviets had commenced a new rail link using gulag labour beneath the city of Moscow itself. They were also involved in deep mining near the city of Tyumen, in Siberia, again for unspecified reasons. Despite the rapprochement between the Soviet Union and Germany, Stalin did not trust Hilter an inch.
Chainbridge let his cigarette burn down to the filter before stubbing it out. In the event of an attack, Lenin’s tomb would be a priority evacuation, probably to Tyumen. He re-read the last sentence, slowly blowing out smoke.
‘ Are they serious..?’ His voice was warm, whiskey and tobacco mellowed, and hinted a university education. There were still traces of his native Belfast accent when he spoke at length.
Eva noted that behind him, on his long bookshelves in pristine lines, stood leather-bound ancient Greek and Cyrillic
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