Unintended Consequences (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 3)

by Dan Walsh

  Jack wondered if any of those killed were men he knew. “By the way, where am I?”

  “You are at Royal Herbert Hospital in Southeast London. And you’re in very good hands. They have the best orthopedic department in the country.”

  Just then, a nurse walked in. “Excuse me. Major Turner? You have a telephone call. I’ve already forgotten his name, but it’s a Colonel. He says it’s urgent.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He looked at Jack and Renée. “I’m sorry. I have to get this.” He left the ward following the nurse.

  Renée stepped closer to his bed. “Oh, Jack. It was so horrible last night, waiting for your call. After the third hour, I knew something terrible must’ve happened.”

  “I really am sorry. I was knocked unconscious when I hit the ground. I actually just woke up for the first time a little while ago.”

  “It’s not your fault. I was just…so afraid you were gone.” The tears reappeared. She pulled a handkerchief out of her purse.

  Her hands were resting on the bed rail. Without thinking, he reached for them with his good hand, resting his palm on top of her right hand, just to comfort her. She quickly took hold of it and squeezed.

  Now, that didn’t hurt a bit. He decided not to let go, just to see what would happen. She stopped squeezing after a moment but didn’t let go. Now, this was very nice. Although it made him a little nervous to think that Elliot might return at any moment.

  “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “Only if I move.” He smiled. “Or if I breathe too deeply. I guess it’s these ribs.”

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  “Very well. I had just shot down a German bomber. Maybe the one who had bombed Middle Wallop. He was on his way home. I was watching his plane go down, to see if anyone got out. When all of a sudden, someone starts shooting at me from behind. Before I know it, bullets were hitting my plane and the engine started to smoke. I knew I only had seconds to get out. I guess I was rushing and hit my leg on something as I jumped. I don’t even remember what happened to my hand.” A picture of the ground coming at him quickly flashed into his mind, along with the fear about what would happen when he hit. He winced and closed his eyes.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to talk about it anymore. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Some water would be nice.”

  “Here’s a glass of water with a straw.” She picked it up from the little table beside his bed. “Here. There’s a sink over there. Let me pour a little out so you won’t have to sit up to drink it.”

  He watched every move she made. And for the moment, he was unaware of feeling any pain. He couldn’t believe this beautiful young woman was here at his bedside. And it seemed obvious, she cared for him. Could it be possible that her feelings matched his own? As she lowered the water glass, he leaned his head forward and took a sip. So refreshing. “Have you still been okay, here in London? Has it been bombed yet?”

  “Do you want another sip?” He shook his head no. “No, we haven’t. The sirens go off every day. But so far, they’ve left us alone. I heard some of the people talking in the hotel restaurant. They’re saying Hitler isn’t destroying London, because he wants to keep it as one of his trophies like he’s done with Paris. Of course, people who say that have already given up hope.”

  “Don’t you believe them, Renée? None of our guys are giving up hope. I’ve gotta admit, it’s a little frightening sometimes when you see how many fighters and bombers they have. During some of these air battles, it feels like there’s hundreds of planes in the air. And most of them have black crosses. But I think we’re winning. I don’t know what the count is now, and I know we’re losing plenty of our planes, but I’m seeing a lot more Nazi planes go down than ours. And the other positive thing is, if our plane is damaged and our pilots have to bail out like me, we’re landing in friendly territory. If the Germans bail out, they become POWs for the rest of the war. That’s gotta count for something.”

  “I hope you’re right. I certainly haven’t given up hope. And I think most of the people in London haven’t either.” She rested her hands on the bed rail again.

  Jack felt a strong temptation to reach for her hand again, but didn’t. A moment later, he was very glad he resisted that impulse. Elliot walked back into the ward and came up to his bed.

  “So sorry about this,” Elliot said. “Something of an emergency. One of the special Home Guard groups I’ve been training in Brighton was in a building that took a direct hit. I’ve got to head down there and see where things are at. So sorry to cut our visit short, Jack.”

  “Do you both have to go?”

  “Well, I am Renée’s ride here.”

  “I understand. It’s just that…I won’t see anyone else for who knows how long.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “it’s not that far of a drive. I’m sure we’ll get up here again soon.”

  Jack doubted that very much. Not that Elliot was being insincere, but he knew how many times Elliot’s wartime duties got in the way of him and Renée spending any time together.

  “And even if Elliot is detained,” Renée said, “I can find my way here by myself. All the roads we took from my hotel were main roads. I can figure out the buses or trolleys, or maybe even take a cab.”

  “See old man?” Elliot said. “We won’t leave you in the lurch very long. One of us or both of us will be back very soon. You just do as the doctor says, so you’re not in here a day longer than you need to be.” He reached out his hand and Jack shook it. Then he turned and walked away.

  Renée stepped up closer, took his hand, squeezed it gently and whispered, “I will be here as often as I can and stay for as long as I can. And if Joe gets a day off, and he can get to London, I’ll bring him with me. So don’t worry. You won’t be alone half as much as you think.”

  Jack squeezed her hand back and, reluctantly, let it go. “Thanks so much for coming. And thank my brother, too. He left before I could say it myself.”

  “I will. Have to go.” She waved, smiled and headed for the door.

  Jack rested his head back on the pillow. Once again, unaware of being in any pain.

  39

  Sept 7th, 1940

  Royal Herbert Hospital, SE London

  For the last three weeks, Jack had been mending nicely at the hospital. Due to the rib injury, he still had to sleep on his back but at least it no longer hurt to breathe, or laugh. He wasn’t on crutches just yet, but his leg was no longer in traction and twice a day he could be rolled around in a wheelchair for thirty minutes at a time. The stitches had come out on his hand, and he almost had full use of it now. And the concussion had been reduced to the occasional headache and dizzy spell.

  The doctor had said Jack would be getting another x-ray tomorrow and, if it looked good, he’d let Jack start getting around on crutches.

  True to her word, Renée had come out to visit him every chance she got, which turned out to be only four times so far. But he’d loved every minute of her visits, and they’d talked several more times on the phone.

  Telephone calls were also the only way he’d stayed in touch with his brother, Elliot, who hadn’t been given even a single day off since Jack had first come to the hospital. The Battle of Britain was still keeping him totally occupied. His last phone call came yesterday and, for the first time since they’d begun to get reacquainted, Elliot’s comments, even his tone of voice worried Jack. Of course, Elliot couldn’t speak plainly but using something of a code with Jack, he got the clear impression that unless something significant happened to alter the course of things, the RAF could not hold out much longer.

  They’d been doing a passable job fighting the air war with the Luftwaffe, day after day, and had actually shot down more German planes than they had lost. But the Germans had been pounding RAF airfields relentlessly for the last month, and the simple fact was: they could keep this up indefinitely, while the RAF’s inventory of planes and pilo
ts would soon run dry.

  Something had to happen very soon, or the RAF was finished.

  Jack tried to put his worries aside as he awaited his two guests this afternoon. He knew Renée was coming. She had called yesterday saying she would. It was her day off. But she had called around noon today to inform him she wouldn’t be there until almost four, because Joe had called that morning. He had gotten an unexpected one-day pass and wanted to visit Jack. She agreed to wait there at the hotel, so they could visit him together.

  Jack was certainly happy to see his good friend. Not so happy that it had cut his visit with Renée down to an hour. Visiting hours closed at 5PM. Even without that restraint, she’d have to leave then just be able to return to her hotel before the blackout began. Every night, every light in London was either turned off or hidden behind a thick black curtain when the sun set.

  There was a slight commotion in the hall. Jack looked up and smiled when he heard Joe’s loud voice apologizing to a nurse. Sounded like he had almost knocked over her cart. A moment later, the two of them walked through the doorway. Renée smiled and waved. Joe followed her gaze and saw Jack, propped up in the bed. A wheelchair was parked at the foot of the bed, a concession granted by the head nurse of the ward. Jack had asked if she would let Joe and Renée push him around for his afternoon thirty-minute stroll.

  “Look at you,” Joe said, extending his hand as he closed the gap.

  Jack shook it and held his grip a few extra seconds. It really was good to see his friend.

  “You don’t look half bad,” Joe said. “Way better than I expected.”

  Renée came close and kissed him gently on the cheek, which is how she typically greeted him on these hospital visits. Jack had wondered if she would do it this time with Joe standing there. He was glad she did. Joe noticed it, too, and made a “way to go, Jack” face behind her back.

  “I’m sorry we’re coming so late,” Renée said. “But I knew how much you wanted to see Joe and, after talking with him earlier, I could tell how much he wanted to see you.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m just glad you’re both here now, regardless of how long you can stay.” Jack wondered if she meant anything by the way she’d phrased that second part. He looked at Joe. “Is everything okay? I was surprised they gave you a day’s leave, considering how things are going out there. Talked with Elliot yesterday. Sounds like there’s been no let up in the air raids. Haven’t been any here in London yet, since that oddball one two weeks ago. But from the sounds of it, all the airfields are getting pounded. How are you doing?”

  For just a second, the smile left Joe’s face. Then a fake one returned. “Elliot’s right. We’ve been getting pounded. Middle Wallop hasn’t gotten hit again, but almost everybody else has. Some airfields have been hit two or three times. And we’re averaging three sorties a day.” He sighed. Looked down toward the floor for a moment. “It’s been rough.”

  “Tell him, Joe,” Renée said.

  “Tell me what?”

  Joe looked at Jack, the smile gone again. “It’s just you and me, Pal. We’re the only two left.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s why they gave me leave for the day. As of yesterday, I’m the only American pilot left flying out of Middle Wallop. All the rest of the guys who came over with us on the boat are dead. There’s just me left, and you. And you can’t fly. They were about to assign me this Polish kid as my wing man. He barely speaks English. Can’t understand a word he says over the radio. I told the CO I ain’t flying with that guy. Well, I didn’t actually say it that politely. Kind of lost my composure, you might say.”

  “You cussed him out?” Jack said.

  Joe nodded.

  “He could have sacked you.”

  “He could have but, now that you’re gone, I’m the best pilot he’s got left in the squadron. Oh, by the way, I racked up three more kills. So, I’m ahead of you now. Officially.” He managed a smile at that.

  “Congratulations. So, instead of sacking you he gave you a day off?”

  Joe nodded. “He even suggested I use the time to come up and visit you, which I was gonna do anyway on my own.”

  “Seeing me is supposed to be some kind of therapy for you?”

  “Suppose so,” Joe said.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be there with you,” Jack said. “Really, I am.”

  “They say how much more time you going to be in that thing?” He pointed at Jack’s cast.

  “Could be six to eight weeks.”

  “Longer, or total?”

  “Total.”

  “So, three to five weeks from here?”

  “Sounds right,” Jack said. “But then they said I might need therapy for a few weeks to get full use of it. They’ve got to reevaluate me and re-certify me to fly.”

  “Looks like I need teach this Polish kid how to speak English.”

  “Is he a good pilot?”

  Joe nodded. “Decent.”

  “Then work with him, Joe. Don’t just do it for his sake. Do it for yours, too. I need you to make it through this thing, buddy. I don’t want to be the last American standing.”

  “I hate this war,” Renée said. “It’s terrible you two are even having to have such a conversation.”

  “It is,” Jack said.

  “So, what’s that?” Joe said, pointing to the wheelchair.

  “That’s my ride. How about you help me into that thing and take me for a ride?” He looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s just about four. We can take a walk for thirty minutes.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere on the grounds,” Jack said. “It would be nice to go outside. They don’t take me out there too often.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Renée stepped out of Joe’s way so he could get closer to Jack. Jack slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. Renée moved the wheelchair in place and held it. A few seconds later, Jack was sitting safely in the chair.

  “Ready whenever you are,” Jack said.

  Just then, everyone stopped what they were doing. Not just the three of them, but everyone in the ward. They all recognized the sound. A deep, low rumbling up in the sky, coming from the south.

  Joe walked over to the nearest window and looked in that direction. “Oh, man. This is not good.”

  “What is it?” Renée said.

  Air raid sirens began to wail outside.

  Joe hurried back and grabbed Jack’s wheelchair, instantly started pushing it toward the door. Renée followed. “German bombers,” he said. “Hundreds of them. Headed this way. Whatta you say we skip the walk outside and head for the basement?”

  “They wouldn’t bomb a hospital, would they?” Renée said as they walked.

  “They’re Nazis,” Joe said.

  40

  The next two hours were the most frightening moments in Renee’s life. Worse than the scariest moments back in France. Along with Jack, Joe and most of the patients and staff of that ward, they huddled together in the dark cellar as one explosion after another tore the city of London apart.

  At first, it sounded like the bombs were dropping several miles away, far to the west of the hospital. She’d wondered whether her hotel had been hit or any of the other famous buildings nearby. Or Baker Street, where Elliot worked. Jack had said the explosions were much closer. “Sounds like they’re hitting the East End.”

  Then suddenly, thirty minutes ago, a string of explosions hit close by. People screamed. Renée was among them. The whole building shook and shuddered, like it might come down right on top of them. She sat as close to Jack as she could. Stuck in the chair, he did his best to put his arms around her.

  When the nearby explosions stopped, he said, “They were hitting about a half-mile north of here. I think they were going after the docks and wharves along the Thames.”

  “If so,” Joe said, “they are gone.”

  No one spoke for several minutes.


  “Are they done?” Renée asked. “Is it over?”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “Maybe.”

  A minute later, Joe started walking toward the stairs. “I’ll check.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “That was pretty awful,” Jack said. “I’ve never been on the ground before during one of those.”

  “Me, either. I heard explosions off in the distance back in France, but this was much worse. So much scarier than I imagined from reading the newspapers.”

  After a few minutes, Joe returned and announced to everyone in the basement, “They’re leaving. The bombers. I think it’s over.”

  People slowly began to leave. Most by the stairs, some in the elevator. Joe reached Jack and Renée. “You should see it out there. It’s like all of London is on fire. At least everywhere north and west of here.”

  “Why did this happen?” Renée said. “Is Hitler going to start bombing London now?”

  “He might,” Jack said. “After that bombing here two weeks ago, which I heard some people say was a mistake, Churchill retaliated on Berlin. Maybe that’s where this is going now.”

  Some room opened in the elevator. The three of them got in. When the door opened into the lobby, Jack asked Joe to wheel him outside. They headed into an open, grassy area and stared at the sky, glowing in three directions. North toward the Thames you could actually see the fire line above the trees and rooftops.

  “The Royal Arsenal is over that way,” Jack said. “Maybe that’s what they were after.” He looked at Renée. “Do you know where Elliot is?”

  Renée sighed. “I’m not sure. But I know he’s not in London. Somewhere south, I think. He seems to work mostly near the coast.”

  “The coast might be the safest place to be tonight,” Joe added.

  They watched a few more minutes. It was hard to look away. Renée had never felt so helpless. This town, which she had grown to greatly admire, was burning. Likely, dozens of buildings she’d pass by every time she journeyed here were gone, as well as the people who’d lived and worked in them. Just like that, in a span of two hours.