The Chase: A Novel

by Brenda Joyce

  “Tell me the truth,” she whispered.

  “It’s better if I don’t.” He crossed the room. “I’m a pilot, Rachel. I’m a goddamned pilot who can smell the enemy a mile away.” He had his back to her now, trying the closet door. It was locked. “I can feel those Gerries before I see them. I can’t explain it. No one can. Maybe I just have a stronger intuition than the rest of my men. It’s why I have so many kills. I’m never taken by surprise.” He took a third pick from his pocket.

  “I’m your wife!” Rachel cried.

  Eddy quickly unlocked the simple closet door and turned to her. “I know. And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Rach. I swear.”

  “We can’t have secrets—and lies—between us!” And she thought about her own secret, her own lie. “I’m in the Y unit. And I never told you the truth about Papa. He hasn’t spoken to me since that first night we spent together. He has shut me out of his life, he has buried me alive!”

  Eddy stared, turning white. He did not move.

  “I lied to spare you,” she said in a more subdued but anguished tone. “The way you are doing now, to me.”

  He swallowed. After a long moment, during which they gazed at each other, he said, “They didn’t let me out.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “When I left the States to fight Hitler, they asked me to help. Last June they put me in a new, elite unit. The SIS.”

  “They?” Rachel asked, clenched with fear. “Who are they?”

  “Uncle Sam,” he said abruptly. “The FBI.”

  Rachel could only stare. He was with American intelligence. Her mind raced.

  “Don’t doubt me,” he said, coming to her with hard strides. He gripped her arms. “I’m an RAF pilot first. You know that. I put my life on the line every single day, a dozen times, maybe more, when I go up. There’s no conflict of interest. You know that. My fighting the Germans up there for your country, or down here for mine—in the end, it all comes out the same.”

  Rachel wasn’t sure. She felt like she was reeling. She felt faint. She heard herself say, “And if Lionel is a German spy, then who will you tell? Your CO here, or someone in the States?”

  He couldn’t respond.

  She had thought so.

  “Rachel?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her head fiercely, coming to her senses. “You’re an American, and you’re right, the final goal is the same. We all want this war over, with Hitler’s defeat. But . . . this is worse. Before I only had to worry about your being shot out of the sky. Now I have to worry about your being stabbed in the back by some damned German spy!”

  He smiled a little and said, “Hon, no one’s going to stab me in the back. I promise you that.”

  Rachel wished she believed him. She was so afraid.

  He released her and turned back to the closet. An instant later he said, “Well, he lied.”

  Rachel hurried across the room.

  “He said his equipment was in the cellar. Here’s a Leica, two lenses, and everything he’d need to develop his film. The Germans use Leica cameras, Rachel.”

  Lionel wasn’t German. The room felt so still around her, around them. She looked from the camera and lenses to Eddy.

  “But he’s good, I’ll hand him that,” Eddy said, showing her half a dozen oversize photographs of birds. The first one was of a beautiful white swan, floating in a rippling pond. Rachel shivered.

  Eddy went through the closet with incredible efficiency. Rachel said, “You were right. He’s an agent. Oh, my God.” As Eddy was going through the pockets of Lionel’s suits and uniforms, she said, “We had better leave, Eddy.” She glanced nervously at the front door of the flat.

  “A German-made camera, imprecise notes, and what might be powder used to develop invisible ink is not enough to hang him.” Eddy closed and locked the closet after putting everything back where he had found it. He turned to look at her. “I want something big. A code list. Important contacts. And where the hell is his radio? He’s got to have a transmitter.”

  Rachel watched him fearfully as he walked past her and dropped to his knees, peering under the bed. He stood. “Nothing’s there. There was a suitcase under the bed the last time I was here. It’s not in the closet. He must have it with him. He must be going out of town.”

  Rachel said, “December twenty-fourth. That’s tomorrow. Maybe he left for Scotland today.”

  Eddy smiled at her as if he was enjoying himself.

  Rachel froze. “What are you planning!”

  “Hon, relax. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you?”

  He came to her and guided her to the door. “It’s only six-twenty. You can be at the base in twenty minutes if you rush.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked again as he opened the door.

  “I have a few more things to check out.”

  “Here?” she whispered, aghast.

  They stepped into the hall, and Eddy closed the door. From the outside, he could not lock it.

  “He’ll know that we were here,” Rachel exclaimed in a whisper.

  “He’ll wonder if someone was here; he’ll wonder if he forgot this once to lock the door behind him,” Eddy said calmly.

  “I’m scared,” Rachel cried as they hurried down the hall.

  “Don’t be. Elgin doesn’t scare me, Rachel. If he’s a traitor, I will bring him down, just the way I would a Luftwaffe pilot.” He finally smiled at her. “Don’t look so worried.”

  “How can I not be worried!” she erupted furiously. “Every single day you take that Spitfire up in the air, and it’s either you or some German boy who dies! And now the danger is even worse. God! I think I heard some gossip a few years back, that he had a German girlfriend. I think he spent some time with her in Germany before the war.”

  “Perfect,” Eddy murmured as they reached the ground floor.

  “You’re enjoying yourself,” she accused. There was no doubt in her mind now. He thrived on challenge, on danger.

  They heard a noise behind them.

  Someone was coming downstairs.

  Rachel’s heart dropped and she whirled. Eddy whipped her into a different stairwell. The door closed behind them, and they were in the pitch dark. They could hear footsteps going past them. Eddy turned on his small penlight. Rachel realized this stairwell led down into the cellar below the closed café.

  “I want to take a quick look at the cellar,” Eddy said. “With the caf6 closed, it would be a perfect place for him to hide more equipment.”

  At least he was no longer insisting that she leave without him. “Okay.”

  Eddy led the way down, and a moment later he pushed open a heavy, scarred wooden door. A dark, cavernous room faced them. Rachel could not see much other than beams and shadows, but she was assailed by the odor of decay. It was so strong that it made her stomach roil.

  Eddy froze. “What the hell,” he said, low. He glanced around in the dark, then hit a wall switch. Nothing happened. “Stay there,” he said, shining his penlight around the dark space. It seemed to be filled with boxes and old, broken-down or unused restaurant equipment.

  Rachel nodded, even though he couldn’t see her response. Unease assailed her. What was that horrid smell, and what was Eddy doing?

  Suddenly a single overhead bulb came on—Eddy had found the string. The large cellar came into view. In its center was a plain wooden table with several boxes on top of it. A few boxes were placed along the walls, and so were an old, large icebox and a very old four-burner stove. Another table was on the far side of the cellar, with a toolbox, some saws, tins of nails, and a hammer on its surface.

  Eddy looked around grimly.

  “What is that smell?” Rachel whispered, feeling as if she might retch.

  He strode over to the icebox and yanked the door open. And cried out.

  Rachel ran to see what had stunned him so.

  “Rachel, no!” He moved to bar her
way, but it was too late.

  Lord Elgin’s body was stuffed inside the icebox. He had been cut in half so he would fit.

  CHAPTER 20

  It was instinct that made him look back while he was at the first intersection and less than a block away from his flat. Lionel glanced in his rearview mirror and then turned his gaze ahead; instantly, he did a double take. Someone honked behind him. Lionel twisted to turn around now. Even in the dark of dawn, he was certain that he had just glimpsed Eddy Marshall and Rachel.

  They were in a hurry.

  They were heading toward his building.

  The calm overcame him like a huge, peaceful wave. Lionel stepped on the gas pedal, made the next turn, and found a place to park. He got out of the car and locked it carefully, then began to smile. His life had just become very interesting indeed.

  What were Marshall and his cousin doing at his flat? Was it a social call?

  It was only six in the morning. Somehow he doubted it.

  At the corner he paused and peered around at the front entrance to his walk-up; there was no sign of either Marshall or Rachel. Lionel had grabbed his binoculars before leaving his car, and now he trained them on the single window of his flat. At first he saw nothing and no one. But in a few moments, he was rewarded as a man’s form passed by the window, and even though there was no way Lionel could get a good look at him, he knew who it was. A moment later he glimpsed Rachel.

  They were in his flat.

  This time Lionel really smiled.

  Eddy Marshall was on to him. His cousin Rachel and Eddy Marshall.

  Lionel turned and went back to his car. He had business to attend to, and none of it had anything to do with the day’s agenda for the ministry of information. And he had a trip to make.

  Which was why he was dressed as a civilian.

  Someone had done his or her best to make the dormitory for the WAAFs as comfortable as possible, but it remained a spartan affair. Most of the girls preferred returning whenever possible to their families, if their families lived in the London area, or chose to share a flat with other WAAFs just off base. Rachel preferred to sleep in the dorm, since her unit was pressed into double and even triple shifts so often. Even now that she had her own house, traveling back and forth from Knightsbridge was too time-consuming, unless Eddy was there.

  She had just finished two back-to-back eight-hour shifts. It was almost midnight. Sleeping, however, was the last thing on her mind.

  She sat on her small bed in a room that slept four, her hands in her lap, her mind racing. In a way, coming to the base after finding her uncle in the icebox had been a relief. She had spent the past sixteen hours with a pair of headphones clamped to her ears, listening to too many conversations in the skies above her to even count. There had been no chance to think of anything other than the pilots in combat above, speaking in both German and English and sometimes in Polish or French.

  She twisted her hands in her lap. Who could have done such a brutal thing to Lord Elgin? Who?

  She felt like throwing up. Her stomach had miraculously held on to whatever she had consumed that morning; Eddy had told her to go directly to the base, and that he would report the murder to the authorities. Which authorities had he gone to? she wondered. Scotland Yard, the London police, or military intelligence? The FBI?

  Who had murdered Lord Elgin, and why?

  Surely Lionel had not murdered his own father.

  Rachel’s head hurt her terribly now, but she usually suffered from migraines after long, stressful shifts. She told herself that just because Lionel’s father had been found dead in an old icebox in the cellar of Lionel’s building didn’t mean that Lionel had murdered him. But why did she have to recall now, of all times, Harry’s accidental death in 1935? Lionel had mistakenly killed his own brother. And now his father was cut in half and stuffed into an old icebox.

  Why hadn’t Eddy called her? She had tried to call him three times that day, twice on short breaks and just a few minutes ago after being dismissed. Unfortunately, every time she called, he hadn’t been available, and Rachel knew what that meant. It meant he was in the air, fighting to protect her country and its citizens.

  Or was he on his way to Tantallon?

  Tomorrow was December 24. Was something going to happen up there on the Scottish coast at 0700 hours?

  “Rachel?” The door to the small bed-crammed chamber opened and a WAAF popped her head in with a smile. “You have a telephone call.”

  Eddy. No small amount of relief washed over her. Rachel was on her feet and dashing past the other woman before she could even say thank you. If he was intending to be at Tantallon tomorrow morning at seven A.M., she did not want him going alone.

  There was one phone in the common room that they used for smoking and chitchat. Rachel reached for the dangling phone and cried, “Eddy?”

  “Rachel, it’s Lionel.”

  She froze. Her mind seemed to go blank. At the same time, her heart lurched with sickening force, with dread. Her cousin wasn’t just eccentric; he was a fascist, a spy.

  “Rachel? Are you there?”

  She told herself to be calm, rational, to think. She told herself to act positively normal, or he might suspect something. “Lionel!” She forced some cheer into her breathless voice. “This is a surprise!”

  “God, Rachel, I am so shaken, I can hardly talk!”

  Rachel was already tense. Lionel did not sound like himself. Cautiously, she asked, “Is everything all right?”

  “No!” He sounded almost hysterical. “God, someone found my father—he was murdered, Rachel, murdered—someone found him in my cellar—in the bloody cellar of my building!”

  Rachel did not speak. She couldn’t seem to think. “What?” she finally managed.

  “I’ve been down at Scotland Yard. I didn’t know what to say. I’m as surprised as anyone!”

  They had released him. Where was Eddy? Rachel needed to talk to him desperately now. “Do they have any suspects? Do they have any idea what happened?”

  “No. It might be a prank. When they got to my building, the body was gone. So it’s the word of one witness who had sworn the body was there in my cellar against the fact that right now, there is no body anywhere.”

  The body had been removed. Rachel realized her hand was cramping from how tightly she was gripping the phone. “Who saw the body?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. They won’t say. But whoever it is, he has some kind of credibility with the authorities, because they seem to be certain he is telling the truth. God! Someone murdered my father, Rachel, and whoever it is, he’s removed the body . . .” Lionel trailed off. He sounded almost on the verge of tears. “You’re family, Rachel. You’re the only one I could think of to turn to.”

  He did not sound like a guilty man or a spy. Maybe the powder was something innocent. Maybe he preferred the German camera to an American-made one because it was superior. There had been pictures of birds, for God’s sake.

  And at least he did not know that it was Eddy who was the witness—Eddy and her. “I’m so sorry, Lionel.”

  “Rachel, I have a favor to ask of you. No, to beg of you,” Lionel said.

  Rachel was assailed with a fresh wave of unease. “Of course,” she said automatically.

  “They’ve interviewed my stepmother. She is hysterical, as you can imagine, thinking about my father having been murdered. I’m not at Elgin Hall—I’m on duty, and I won’t be home until Christmas Eve. You’re the only one I could think of to call. Could you come out? She needs to be with another woman right now, Rachel. I beg you. She’s alone and distraught. I’m afraid she might do something to hurt herself in her grief. If you could just stay with her until I can get back. I beg you, Rachel.”

  Rachel stared at the greenish wall behind the phone. “I hardly know Ellen. I haven’t seen her since that weekend in Wales when I was a child.”

  “The two of you hit it off when you met. I remember it very clearly. Please, Rachel.
She has no one else.”

  Rachel imagined what it must be like for Ellen just then. God, she hoped no one had told her what had really happened to Elgin. “Where are you?” Rachel asked cautiously. Was he on his way to Tantallon?

  “I’m in the south,” he said. “At Dover. It’s ministry business.”

  He could be telling the truth. Elgin had just been found, gruesomely murdered. Lady Ellen might very well be distressed. Rachel’s mind spun so fast and hard that she became light-headed.

  Poor Lady Ellen.

  Rachel had liked Ellen that single time they had met. She had also felt sorry for her, being married to such a cold older man. Her only remaining family was Lionel; her parents had been dead for years, and she was an only child. And of course there was her young son.

  “I’ll come,” she said, the decision made. But she was no fool. She would bring Sarah, and she would leave Eddy a message, explaining where she was—and why. Besides, Lionel wouldn’t even be there. He was in the south—or in the north. “But I can’t stay, Lionel. I can come tonight, but I must be back on duty tomorrow morning.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “Your uncle has been murdered, I will make arrangements for a few days’ leave. You can spend Christmas with us. Thank you, Rachel. I’ll tell Ellen to expect you tonight.” He hung up.

  Rachel wondered if he had forgotten that she was Jewish. She hardly cared about spending Christmas at Elgin Hall. Rachel managed to reach Sarah, explaining what had happened. Sarah was shocked but agreed to meet Rachel at the hall as soon as her shift was over, which was in a few hours. But she might not be able to stay long, either.

  “I am on at noon tomorrow,” she said. “But I’ll see if one of the other drivers can cover for me.”

  “Thanks,” Rachel whispered, suddenly bone-tired.

  “Rachel? How do you like your new home?” Sarah asked slyly.

  She had forgotten all about her new home and Sarah’s role in furnishing it. “I love it, Sarah. Thank you so much! And we had the most wonderful wedding night. It could not have been more magical,” she said, clenching the phone. Her wedding night felt as if it had happened in another life, not a mere twenty-four hours ago.