Chapter 45
Lizzie froze and placed her ear to the door, listening for noises inside her apartment, but the only sound she could hear was the thud of her heart as she calculated what to do next.
Should she go in and see if someone was still inside?
That would give her the element of surprise.
She was trained in deadly combat, and she had an excellent chance of overcoming any attacker unfortunate enough to meet her.
Her mind turned to her pre-mission prep.
Val had ordered her to avoid physical combat unless it was a matter of life and death.
Switzerland was not Paris or Berlin—the battle was won through careful spycraft, not by assassinating the enemy.
A vision of Hauser toppling into the freezing river filled her thoughts.
She shook her head. There was no time to deal with that now. It would haunt her later.
Lizzie’s hand touched the outline of the Swiss Army knife she tucked inside her coat pocket when Tom had issued it to her. A loud clanging noise made her jump, and her fingers clutched the knife. The infiltrator may still be inside, and she geared herself for action.
The clang was just the noise of the lift as it moved downstairs, but her heart pounded furiously, and she was in a state of fight or flight.
Lizzie wasn’t the fleeing type, so she slid her key smoothly into the lock until the door clicked open and she stepped inside.
If someone was still in there, they might have heard her enter, depending on which room they were in.
Listening in the hall for sounds beyond the inner door, she paused again, barely breathing.
Still nothing, except for the distant clang of the lift moving between floors.
Suspicious of every noise in the building, she silently closed the door behind her just in case whoever was in the lift had come to join the intruder, not knowing she had returned.
Lizzie touched the door handle with one hand, her other still firmly clutching the knife, ready to strike as she crossed the threshold. All her senses were on high alert as she crept through the door like a cat burglar.
Her eyes adjusted to the dusky light, and she saw the room had been tossed.
Cupboard doors hung open, and the contents of drawers littered the surfaces and the floor.
She crossed into the kitchen and saw it too was in chaos, with groceries and crockery strewn on the usually neat table and counter.
Lizzie moved slowly through the hallway and into the other rooms, checking each one meticulously, but all the signs told her she was alone.
Whoever had tossed the apartment had completed their job and probably left long before she returned from the Legation.
What a mess they had made. One thing was for certain—they wanted her to know they had searched her apartment and made no attempt to cover it up.
That explained the fallen thread near the door.
Any professional spy worth their salt would check for that and replace it to cover their tracks, but this was a warning.
Whoever had combed through every cupboard and drawer had left her a clear message.
They were watching her, and nowhere was safe.
Voss. This must be his team’s handiwork.
The realisation calmed her slightly. They would have been searching for anything incriminating that they didn’t want her to take out of the country.
If they had intended to harm her, surely they would have lain in wait for her return.
She consoled herself; it was too soon for them to know about Hauser’s disappearance.
It was just as Val had predicted. The espionage battlefield was a silent one, and the weapons were stealth, surveillance, and intelligence gathering, not guns and knives.
When Lizzie finished searching every nook and cranny of the rooms, she was satisfied she was alone, and removed her coat and put on some water to boil for tea.
Her throat was parched, and the rush she’d felt as she hunted for the intruder was only just abating.
The Swiss Army knife now lay on the table just in case she had another unexpected visitor.
All going to plan with Tom’s travel arrangements, this would be her last night in the apartment and after the day’s events, she was relieved.
Voss had fulfilled his threat that she mustn’t remove anything from Brunner it was protecting the illusion of it.
Lizzie packed her belongings and clothes straight into her suitcase. Then she tidied the rest of the apartment until it looked as it had when she arrived. Her mother had drummed into them as girls that they should leave a place in good order, just as they had found it, or even better.
After eating a piece of toast topped with delicious Swiss cheese from the pantry, she took a shower and changed into fresh clothes.
The Swiss Army knife was nearby, ready to be brandished at a second’s notice if a night visitor broke in, but all was quiet in the apartment in the sky.
Nevertheless, she decided she would sleep on the sofa instead of in the bedroom on her last night and be ready for any eventuality.
It would be difficult to get any proper sleep in the circumstances, and she thought about going out to call Tom but decided against it.
What would be the point? She could protect herself just as well or likely better than he, a desk agent, and they didn’t have backup on hand.
Feeling like she should keep one eye open, she tried to get some rest, the knife next to her, but it was hard to relax.
In the back of her mind, even though she believed it was Voss who had ordered the place to be searched, she worried that German agents may have got word of the day’s events.
They too would be bound by strict Swiss neutrality conventions and prefer to operate from the shadows, but might they be willing to risk contravening the constraints if they thought a British agent was about to leave the country with proof of their copious gold laundering?
Eventually, the dead of night passed. Lizzie fell into a deep sleep just as dawn broke with a flourish of pink in the sky over the white mountain peaks.
It was 6.30 a.m. when Lizzie woke with a start and shot up on the sofa, clutching her knife.
She’d placed an ornament by the front door to alert her of any movement in the night.
Someone was outside, and she climbed off the sofa and crept towards the inner door, pulling it open and slipping into the dark hall. Listening for movement, she heard the shuffle of footsteps and waited for someone to enter so she could surprise them.
Pressed against the wall, she watched and waited for the door to open, her heart pounding as if in her throat. She was wide awake now and ready for anything, but it didn’t make it less scary.
Who was coming for her now? She thought of the sinister German official who Brunner said was Gestapo in all but uniform and who had threatened the two bankers into storing stolen gold and certificates.
Was it him, or was it Voss’s men back for another check before she left the country?
Did they know that Hauser had gone missing?
There was a tap on the door that jolted Lizzie, and goosebumps coated her skin. She hadn’t expected a polite caller. Dressed in her nightclothes, she slid back the lock and peered around the door, her fingers still clutching the knife.
Was someone trying to trick her?