by V. B. Tenery
“My dear young woman, I’m a seaman. We live for pain.”
For all his bravado, Grey gritted his teeth to keep from screaming while Grace removed the shrapnel. He would have sworn had there not been ladies present. But she worked fast and efficiently and soon had him patched up.
“Are you sure you won’t go to the hospital? I’ve wrapped it tight so hopefully that will stop the bleeding, but it really needs stitches. You absolutely must have a tetanus shot. That piece of metal was rusted.”
“I’ll be fine. We Hamiltons are a hardy lot, but I know a physician who’ll give me the shot. I’ll see him tomorrow.”
He hid a wave of nausea and gratefully accepted the mug of tea Bunny handed him. He drank half the cup, then filled Aubrey and Grace in on his search for the lieutenant.
“I think he must live somewhere near where I lost him. He appeared to be on his way home.” Grey thought for a moment then said to Aubrey, “Tomorrow, see if you can acquire two or more constables to help us show the sketch around the area. If he survived the plane crash, someone in the area should know him.”
Grey placed his hand against his thigh and massaged the muscles. “He didn’t appear to be a professional spy. He was too easy to follow. Of course, his carelessness could be due to his alcohol consumption and the fact he didn’t expect anyone at the Savoy to recognize him.”
He stood and found the leg sturdier and less painful than he’d expected. Still, it throbbed like blazes, but the intensity had diminished. He smiled at Grace. “Thank you. You may practice your surgical skills on me anytime. Although, I would hope there will be no further need for your services anytime soon.”
“I sincerely hope not, and keep that wound dry,” she cautioned. “You don’t need an infection, considering your previous injury to that leg.”
***
The sound of the telephone awoke Grey the next morning. He decided to let Aubrey take care of the call, and swung his legs to the floor, surprised his injured limb worked so well. Sore, to be sure, but the pain was manageable with only a slight limp. He wanted to take a quick shower, but remembered Grace’s last words, settled for a wash instead.
The sound of running water from the kitchen told him Aubrey was up. Grey dressed and joined him.
“I made tea if you want a quick cup. Bunny rang a few minutes ago to say she had prepared breakfast for us. We shall have to pool our ration coupons to help with the food Grace is sharing.” He glanced down at Grey’s leg. “How’s the injury, old man? Think you’ll be able to walk on it today?”
“As long as we don’t climb any mountains.”
Despite the growing pain in his leg, he, Grace, and Aubrey, along with two constables, canvassed the neighborhood where last night’s crash occurred and learned two things. One, the suspect lived in the area, and two his flat was undamaged. When they arrived at his door, there was no answer to their repeated knocks. They gained entry with a key provided by the landlord.
Grey stopped just inside the doorway and let his infallible memory absorb the sights and smells. The flat was sparsely furnished: a sofa, chair, desk, and a bookcase near a redbrick fireplace. Furnishings were good quality but worn, and the smell of smoke from last evening permeated the rooms.
The two constables spread out to search the bedroom. Grey sat at the desk, riffling through the drawers, and Aubrey checked out the kitchen.
The clatter of glass and metal in the ceramic sink told him Aubrey emptied the ice trays and food from the refrigerator, and, judging from the grumbling that came from his direction, found nothing.
Grace walked past Grey into the kitchen and opened the food closet door.
He found two letters in the desk’s center drawer, postmarked from Switzerland, written in German. He set them aside. His conversational German was good, but the written words were difficult for him to translate. Grace could do the honors later.
Grace called from the kitchen. “Grey, can you come here for a moment?” She stood in the small food closet looking down at the shelves.
“Did you find something?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, but this last shelf is empty. Most people have vegetable bins and flour stored in this space.” She pointed to long scuff marks on the wood and a tiny hole on the right near the wall. “It may be nothing as there are only a few tins of soup and stew on the shelves. Do you have a pocket knife?”
Their man appeared to be a bachelor, from the look of his flat, and food rationing could account for the absence of bins. He pulled his Swiss knife and knelt, quickly reminded of the injury to his calf. He inserted the blade and tugged outward. There was a click and a panel at the back of the bottom shelf swung outward on well-oiled hinges.
Inside the opening was a two-way radio.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? This would seem to confirm the lieutenant was indeed a spy. Good find, Grace.”
Whether or not the man was guilty of Jacky Vidal’s murder, they could arrest him for espionage. First, they had to find him. Grey waved the two constables over and the carried the radio to the car.
He returned to the desk and handed the two letters to Grace. “Can you translate these?”
She scanned the first one quickly, read it once more, then set it aside. She did the same with the second one. “His name is Gunter Becke. These are supposedly from his girlfriend. Actually, they are written in a very simple numeric code. The first letter asks how his mission is going, and if he’d gained any information.”
Aubrey joined them while she explained the letter’s content.
She picked up the second one, then set it on the desk next to the other. “This tells him to apply whatever means necessary to get the intelligence on the Code and Cypher School. Neither mentions Jacky by name. It also says there’s to be an insertion in fifteen days. The letter is dated five days ago.”
“Are you sure about all that?” Aubrey asked.
She and Grey exchanged glances, then she turned her attention to the Inspector. “I’m sure. The code is almost juvenile.”
His face darkened to a red hue. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I keep forgetting you’re a master code-breaker. Why would they correspond when they had a radio?”
“I can answer that,” Grey said. “We can trace radio signals. They would only use it for extreme emergencies. So he is possibly leaving the country after having radioed what Jacky may have told him, or perhaps welcoming another comrade to our shores. Does it say where the meeting will be?”
She nodded. “It gives the latitude and longitude, even the time, 2300 hours.”
After Aubrey posted a constable to watch for the spy’s return, the three of them headed to Grace’s flat after Grey stopped his physician’s office for the tetanus shot. The doctor complimented Grace on her medical technique and asked if she would like to work for him.
Bristol Arms Apartments
London, England
They had failed to capture Becke at his flat, but Grey now knew where the man would be in ten days if things went according to schedule.
“I’ll give the Navy the coordinates and information from the letter to watch for our man.” Grey moved stiffly to the sofa and rested his leg on a stool. “In the meantime, we can pass the drawings to the Bobbies to keep an eye out for him.”
“I have a few informants I can get involved,” Aubrey said. “They might be helpful in finding our Mr. Becke. I’ll have his post delivered to the Yard, just in case his accomplice tries to contact him again.” He paused for a beat. “Since things are in limbo for a day or so, I would like to take tomorrow to visit my fiancée. Otherwise, Penelope might decide to find a suitor she can see occasionally. My sergeant will contact me if anything turns up on Becke.”
“Go ahead. I need to bring C up to date and get copies of those letters to him. I’m thinking of driving to Amherst to pick up a car, and then drive on to Bletchley Park to give my report.”
“Will you take Grace with you?” Aubrey asked.
Gre
y nodded and caught Grace’s eye across the room. “I can’t leave her alone until we have Becke in custody. Can you be ready to leave early in the morning?” He directed the question to Grace.
“Of course,” she said then added, “You need to let me re-dress your wound before you retire.”
***
While Grace changed the bandage, laughter echoed from the open kitchen where Aubrey and Bunny made dinner. Aubrey’s sense of humor was bringing Bunny out of her shell and she was giving him back his own. Bunny flicked water on him and he swatted her with a dishtowel. Grace couldn’t help but worry that the vulnerable young woman might fall under the spell of the charming Inspector who was very much engaged.
Grey’s solemn gaze followed Grace’s every move, and it unsettled her. She shoved the discomfort aside and was pleased to note the cut had stopped bleeding. She fastened the last piece of tape then stood and admired her handiwork. “There, now. You’re almost as good as new. I’m happy to report there’s no sign of infection.”
He didn’t speak, but his eyes focused intently on hers and she suddenly understood why the women at the Park were so enamored of the very masculine Commander Hamilton. Afraid she might blush under his scrutiny, she was relieved by Aubrey’s announcement that dinner was served.
“Come and join the feast fit for a king, or should I say, a lord.” Aubrey bowed toward Grey, then chucked Bunny under the chin. “This young woman can cook.”
CHAPTER 9
Amherst Manor
Outside London
Molly Hixs, the dependable WPC, arrived early the next day to drive Grey and Grace to Amherst. The sky was clear and cold, with dirty snow banks on the narrow lane. It was an upside-down world when Englishmen dreaded fair weather. Clear skies portended bombing raids. The Austin made its way through the somber morning and the heater managed to cough out a puff of warm air from time to time.
Silver icicles hung from naked tree limbs on the sterile landscape. The scene was depressing. He was tired of the cold, tired of the bombs, and tired of war.
While Grace leaned forward in the seat to answer Molly’s questions about how Bunny was adapting to her new job, Grey remained quiet. He didn’t look forward to the meeting with his mother; part of the reason for his depression. Their relationship had been strained since the death of his father.
Try as he might, he couldn’t find it in himself to forgive her. Because of her immorality, she’d destroyed Franklin Hamilton as surely as if she’d shot him through the heart, and Grey’s total recall always kept the loss just a breath away.
His father had been a man content with his marriage and his only child. When he turned to alcohol and shut himself away in his study, Grey hadn’t understood the withdrawal. It wasn’t until later that he learned of his mother’s notorious affair with the prince. Coming home always revived his disillusionment with both parents.
There was also his new awareness of Grace Sullivan as more than a team member. Like it or not, he had formed an attachment. The sooner he found Jacky Vidal’s killer and returned to his job at MI6, the better off he would be. Up to the present, there seemed to be little comparison between Grace and his mother or his dead fiancée, but people revealed only what they wanted you to see. He’d been blind to Cynthia’s true character until after her death. Since then, he’d built a wall around his emotions, vowing to never again let anyone get that close to him.
His job at MI6 excluded a normal courtship. England was fighting for her life and had to take precedence. He would be away, sometimes for months. Few relationships could withstand such pressure.
Grace’s voice beside him shook him from his morbid thoughts. “Did you let your mother know we were coming?”
He shook his head. “No phone service this morning. She’s used to me dropping in unannounced. It won’t be a problem.” He leaned forward to give Molly directions to Amherst.
They entered the long drive to the one-hundred-year-old mansion. The lawn was not up to its pre-war pristine appearance, but it was better than most. Despite the bad memories connected to his home, Grey loved this great house, its elegance, its history. Except for the addition of plumbing for the bathrooms and kitchen, it had remained as originally built in the early 1800’s. There had been happy times here as well as sad ones.
Molly gasped. “Why, yer ‘ome’s a proper palace, Commander.”
“It isn’t Buckingham, Molly, but it’s a close second, for which I get none of the credit. My great-grandfather built it and his heirs have had the good sense to keep it in excellent repair. And thank God the Luftwaffe hasn’t found it yet.”
“It’s magnificent, Grey,” Grace said.
He removed their luggage from the boot, thanked Molly for the ride, then walked to the front entrance. After a deep breath . . . he opened the door.
***
Waves of tension rolled off Grey as they drove away from London. Knowing the bitterness he felt for his mother, Grace understood, but she didn’t approve. Victoria Hamilton was his mother. She deserved better treatment.
Grace followed him into the grand entryway. Marble floors and a wide staircase on the left led to the upper floors. Two doors opened off the vestibule. The one on the right looked to be a study or library; the one on the left appeared to be a parlor, where a bright fire blazed in the hearth under an intricately carved mantel.
An aproned gray-haired woman stood in the vestibule. A shocked expression on her rosy face blossomed into a broad smile. “Master Grey! We weren’t expecting you!” She rushed forward, and he embraced her in an affectionate hug.
“I tried to call, but the service was out in London.” He released her and pulled Grace forward. “Cora, this is Miss Grace Sullivan. We work together.”
Cora gave a slight curtsy and smiled, then turned her attention back to Grey. “Your mum is around here somewhere, though I can’t rightly say where.”
A young boy of about eight skidded into the room, looked around and started to turn when a stern voice brought him to a halt.
“Alfie, stop right where you are!” Lady Amherst hurried towards the boy, but stopped still when she saw Grey. The look of love and hope on her face broke Grace’s heart. “Grey, I didn’t know you were coming!” She started towards him then stopped when she saw his hostile expression. She turned her attention back to the boy. “Bring me the bread, Alfie. There will be plenty of food at dinner.”
The child dropped his head and stepped forward one slow step at a time, removed the smashed bread from his pocket, and handed it to her.
“Thank you, Alfie,” Lady Amherst said. “Now go back to your studies. I’ll be there shortly.”
Grey’s gaze followed the boy until he was out of sight, then turned to his mother. “I see you have acquired some of the orphans.”
She glanced past them to the door where the boy had exited. “We received twenty children, mostly boys, about a week ago. They are an unruly lot, terrible manners, and vastly undernourished. Some of them, like Alfie, try to hoard food, afraid they might not get another meal.”
“It has been most distressing, but I’ve become quite fond of them.” She gazed down at her hands and twisted her wedding ring. “It’s heartbreaking, really. Alfie lost his parents and two sisters in one of the raids. Constables found him wandering the streets.” She turned to her son with glistening eyes. “Thank you, Grey, for allowing me to give them a home here.”
“It’s still your home, Mother. And what you’re doing is good for England. There are more children than there are homes to take them in.”
She emitted a pleased laugh. “I hope you feel the same when this horrid war is over. These little ragamuffins are also quite destructive. Your prized cricket bat has been turned into kindling.”
Lady Amherst seemed to notice Grace for the first time. “Hello, Grace. It’s so good to see you again.” She clasped Grace’s arm and walked beside her towards the parlor. “Come on in where it’s warm. Such horrid weather of late. Cora, would you send in a tea tra
y, please.”
When she was seated on a sofa by the fire, Grey asked, “You’ve met my mother?”
“Aunt Edie introduced us on my last visit.”
Grey took a seat beside her, but his expression told her he wasn’t happy about the delay. “We can’t stay long, Mother. We’re on our way to Buckinghamshire. I came by to pick up a motor car.”
Victoria poured the tea and handed each of them a cup. “They’re your automobiles, Grey. Take whichever you want.”
Grace watched the interaction between the two troubled people. How do you mend a breach of such long standing? As his mother spoke about the children, some emotion passed across Grey’s face that Grace couldn’t identify.
“What will happen to the children after the war?” Grace asked.
Grey grimaced and finished his tea. Grace felt compelled to follow his example. “We’ll have to build orphanages and try to get them adopted here or perhaps in America. The longer the war continues, the worse the situation will become.”
When they rose to leave his mother’s gaze searched his face, as though seeking some sign of warmth. Seeing none, she turned away. “You had better take the Bentley. It has the most petrol.”
Grace waited until they were on the roadway before she spoke. “You were unreasonably cruel to your mother, you know.”
The muscles in his jaw worked before he spoke. “With all due respect, my relationship with my mother is none of your affair. You know nothing of our past.”
“I know enough to know you have no right to judge her. She made a mistake, a big one, and it had horrible consequences. It ultimately killed her husband and alienated her only son. She has lived with that for twenty years. How much more does she have to suffer for you to think she’s paid enough?”
“If she lives to be a thousand, she can never undo what she did to my father.”
