B008AZB1XW EBOK (22 page)

Simon could tell that Blake was on the hook, all he needed to do was reel him in. “She’s hypoglycemic. Low blood sugar. Surely, you’ve noticed how often she eats. If she doesn’t get something soon, she’ll pass out.”

Elizabeth swooned slightly and even managed to look a little pale. If they could just get Blake to take them downstairs, if they were in public, they might have a chance.

“I’ll have food sent up,” Blake said.

“Small inns like this don’t exactly have room service,” Simon said. It was a risk. Everything now was a risk, but he had no choice but to take it. “You have the gun; I’m not going to do something to risk her life. But if you don’t do something to help her, now, you’re as good as sentencing her to death and you’ll find me most uncooperative then.”

Blake took measure of Simon’s threat and slowly smiled. “I like you.”

Simon and Elizabeth exchanged worried glances.

“You understand how the game is played,” Blake said. “No simpering, no weakness. You play from a position of strength, even when you don’t really have it. Very well. I find I’m a bit hungry myself.” He held up the gun. “Best behavior.”

The pub was crowded and noisy. Blake and Elizabeth sat on a bench together with their backs to the wall with Simon on the opposite side of the table. The gun was in Blake’s right pocket, close to Elizabeth.

Blake ordered three pints of bitter. “To celebrate. A great moment in history.”

Neither Elizabeth nor Simon drank to his toast. Blake didn’t seem to mind. He seemed almost giddy at the prospect of going back to his homeland and bringing such prizes with him.

The pub didn’t have any juice or sugar, but they did have jam and gave Elizabeth a piece of toast with a healthy glob of the stuff. She ate it like her life depended on it.

“Better?” Blake said, sipping his beer.

“Yes, thank you,” she said.

Simon watched him carefully, waiting for an opportunity. When the food came, Simon realized what it was. Blake ate as many Europeans do. He held his fork in his left hand and his knife in his right and seldom set either down. Blake had a penchant for resting his right hand, the side with the gun, on the table next to his plate. If Simon could just communicate to Elizabeth what he needed her to do.

Their eyes met over the table and Simon’s eyes beseeched her to see more than his worry. She noticed something and cocked her head to the side, but quickly looked back down at her food when Blake turned to her. It took several minutes for Simon to communicate what would have been five words. He couldn’t be sure she understood, but she was listening and watching.

Simon changed the grip on his fork briefly, repeatedly, from his natural hold to a knife with the blade down. It looked like a nervous tick, but after a few repetitions, Elizabeth seemed to understand. She mimicked his grip for a split second and then shifted back to normal.

Simon spread his right hand out on the table, palm down, hoping she’d understand. His eyes flicked to Blake’s hand and back to his own.

Without much conversation, the meal was nearing its end. Quickly. Too quickly. If she didn’t strike now, they’d lose their chance. He silently begged her to move.

Blake rested his right hand to the side of the plate and Simon saw Elizabeth’s grip change. With all her might she raised her left hand and stabbed Blake’s right with her fork.

“Scheisse!”

Blake pulled the fork out of his hand just as Simon lunged across the table and hit him square in the jaw. Elizabeth tried to grab for the gun, but Blake shoved her aside and she slid off the bench onto the floor. Simon reached over the table and grabbed Blake by both lapels. With one fierce pull, he yanked him out of his seat and dragged him over the table. Dishes crashed to the ground. Simon and Blake fell backwards into a heap on the floor, both struggling for the gun.

Simon managed to roll on top of Blake and pressed his forearm into the other man’s neck. Blake tried to shove Simon’s arm away and reach for his gun, but Simon grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the floor. With his other arm, Simon used all of his strength, all of his weight to cut off Blake’s air supply. Blake’s free hand pushed at his face, tried to gouge his eyes and then Simon was swiftly pulled back and lifted to his feet.

Several men in the pub had jumped into the fray and pulled the men apart.

“He’s got a gun!” Elizabeth cried, pointing at Blake. “In his coat pocket.”

Blake struggled, but the men held firm. One of them reached into Blake’s pocket and pulled the gun out.

“I’m MI5,” Blake said, a trickle of blood falling from his lip. “He’s a spy. He’s threatened our children if my wife doesn’t play along with his twisted game.”

“He’s lying,” Elizabeth said, coming to Simon’s side. “That man is not my husband.”

“It’s all right, darling,” Blake said in a sickly sweet voice. “It’ll be all right. Please, you have to believe me. That man is a spy.”

No one in the room knew quite what to do or whom to believe when Simon realized how to convince them.

“The rings,” Simon said, trying to step forward, but held back by the men still restraining him. “The wedding rings. What do the inscriptions say?”

Startled, Elizabeth looked up at him. She had no idea he’d had them engraved. Thankfully, she kept her surprise to herself.

Blake’s mouth twitched.

One of the men holding Blake pulled the ring off his finger and held it up to the light.

“If she’s your wife, what’s engraved on your rings?”

Blake had nothing to say.

“Ours is a love beyond the limits of time,” Simon said. “SC. Hers will match but with EC at the end.”

“He’s right,” the man with the ring said. “That’s what it says.” He turned to Blake. “How is it you didn’t know that and he did?”

“It’s a trick,” Blake said weakly.

“He’s a German spy,” Elizabeth said. “Didn’t any of you hear him cry out?”

A man with an eye-patch who had been sitting at a table nearby stepped forward. “I did. I learned a little German in the last war. When they took my eye. Scheisse, he said. Scheisse.” The man glared at Blake and then spat at his feet.

Slowly, the entire bar crowded closer to Blake who looked around anxiously for an exit or an ally. Neither of which he would find.

“A German. Here?”

“Give me ten minutes with him. That’s all I ask.”

“Wait your turn.”

“Gerry scum.”

The man with the ring tossed it back to Simon. He slid the ring back onto his finger and took Elizabeth by the elbow. “We should go.”

“Wait,” Elizabeth said. “He’s got something else of ours. In his pocket. It’s wrapped in leather.”

A man pulled it out and handed it to Elizabeth. “There you are, lass.”

“This isn’t the end,” Blake said.

Simon had waited for this moment. “It is for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was past two in the morning when they finally arrived at the cottage in Hastings. Elizabeth had tried to sleep on the way, but couldn’t. It wasn’t every day she got to fork a Nazi spy.

Every ounce of adrenaline in her body had been spent and she was running on fumes, exhausted, but too tired to sleep. She was stuck in a perpetual twilight where everything had a slightly surreal cast to it. The only thing that felt real was Simon.

She leaned against him as they walked to the cottage. They’d expected Evan to be asleep, but smoke filtered from the chimney and a small sliver of light escaped from the edge of the blackout curtain.

Simon knocked gently before opening the door. “Mr. Eldridge? It’s Simon and Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth could see a pair of legs half covered with a blanket stretched out on the sofa. “Mr. Eldridge?”

“Not quite,” a voice said from behind the door.

Simon and Elizabeth spun around in surprise. Simon’s arm raised, his hand balled into a fist as he tried to move her behind him. Elizabeth grabbed a walking stick leaning by the doorway as the man pushed the door closed and stepped out from the shadows.

“Jack?” Elizabeth said. Her eyes fixed on the gun in his hand. She really had had enough of men pointing guns at her.

“Sorry,” Jack said and then put the gun back in his shoulder holster. He gave them an appraising look. “You two are wound tight.”

Elizabeth let out a long breath. “You have no idea.”

“What are you doing here?” Simon said stepping away from Jack and toward the sofa.

Elizabeth let the walking stick slide down her hand and leaned it against the wall. Even though Blake had said he hadn’t killed Jack, she was incredibly relieved to see it for herself.

“You look like crap,” Jack said with a grin.

“Mr. Eldridge?” Simon said as he eased back the blanket. But it wasn’t Evan Eldridge underneath it. It was the Russian spy they’d seen at the hotel, gagged and bound. “What’s going on?” Simon demanded. “Where’s Eldridge?”

“Relax,” Jack said. “He’s safe.”

“What happened?” Elizabeth asked.

“After you gave us the slip, Blake and I agreed to split up. By the way, loved your note,” he said with a smile for Elizabeth. “Anyway, he tried to find your trail and I tried to find Eldridge.”

“So you were working with Blake,” Simon said angrily.

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, you knew that.”

Elizabeth went to Simon’s side and put a placating hand on his arm. “I think he means he was working with MI5.”

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “What do
you
mean?”

“Blake is the mole,” Simon said. “Your partner was an SS officer.”

“No,” Jack said. “Come on. Andy? On the level? I worked with him for months.” Jack waved a dismissive hand.

“You mean he worked
you
for months,” Simon said. “Where is Eldridge?”

“He’s in London. Safe,” Jack said, still trying to process what they’d told him.

“Jack, it’s true,” Elizabeth said. “Blake tortured a man and then killed him. He would have killed us too.”

“You’re sure?” Jack said.

“He even said something about your grandmother being Jewish.”

Jack’s expression shifted from disbelief to anger. Something dark and dangerous settled in his eyes. “That son of a bitch.” He closed his hand into a fist and looked for something to hit, but stopped himself. “Where is he?”

“Cornwall,” Simon said. “But I don’t think he’ll be a problem any more. There is something else though. He was planning on taking us to a U-boat off the coast just after dark. It might be too late now, but someone should be notified.”

Jack nodded. Elizabeth watched as he worked through everything — his anger, the betrayal, his shame at not realizing it. He didn’t seem the type of man who often doubted himself or lost. The experience left him reeling a little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I promise you, if I’d known I never would have…”

“I know,” Elizabeth said. “He found us just as we found the Shard. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Add it to our list,” Elizabeth said and was happy to see Jack smile even if it didn’t touch his eyes.

“You’re all right?” Jack asked, his voice rough with regret and concern.

Elizabeth nodded. She would miss Jack when this was all over. They hadn’t really spent that much time together, but it definitely felt a little like he was the big brother she’d never had.

Simon gestured to the unconscious Russian. “You were telling us what happened here?”

“It only took a few days for me to find your little hideaway, and if I could…I convinced Eldridge you’d sent me so I moved him back to my suite at St. Ermin’s. No one else knows. He’ll be safe there,” Jack assured them. ”So then I came back here, figuring you two had to come back here. But Lushinkov showed up instead. He made a nuisance of himself,” Jack said as he rubbed a red spot on his jaw, “and ended up camping on the sofa.”

“That all sounds plausible,” Simon said. “But after what we’ve been through I’m not exactly inclined to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jack said. “Here.” Jack unholstered his gun, spun it on a finger so that it landed flat in his palm. He held it out for Simon to take.

Simon looked at the gun and then Elizabeth. She believed Jack and she could tell from Simon’s expression, despite his protests to the contrary, he did too.

“Keep it,” Simon said.

Jack turned to Elizabeth. “He always this hot and cold?”

“It’s been a long day,” Elizabeth said, rubbing the grit of being awake far too long from her eyes. “How far is it to London?”

Simon rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks. “Four hours.”

It might as well have been twenty. Simon was as bleary-eyed as Elizabeth.

“I’ll drive,” Jack said. “You two can catch some shuteye in the back.”

Simon frowned, but he was too tired to protest.

“What about ?” Elizabeth asked pointing at the Russian.

“I’ll send somebody for him later,” Jack said. “He’ll be fine. Trust me?”

“Do we have a choice?” Simon said.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “You always have a choice.”

~~~

Sometime after dawn, they arrived back in London and Jack pulled up next to the St. Ermin’s hotel. They all got out of the car and stretched after the long ride. Elizabeth had had her fill of country roads and cramped quarters. And Nazis. And surprises. What she wanted was for this to be over, for the white hats to win, and for Evan to receive his just reward. And a bath. A long bath.

“Why don’t you go up first,” Simon said. “We’ll join you in a few minutes. I’d like to talk to Elizabeth in private, if you don’t mind.”

She’d expected as much. Simon had been giving her looks for the last hour of their trips, and not the fun ones either.

Now, it was Jack’s turn to hesitate. Slowly, he nodded. “Fair enough.” He started across the street. “How do you like your eggs?”

Simon waited until he was on the far side of the street before turning to Elizabeth. “What do we do if Wells demands the Shard?”

Elizabeth massaged her neck. She’d fallen asleep wonky and her body was making her pay for it. “He won’t.”

Simon’s expression told her exactly what he thought of that sentiment. “That was his mission, wasn’t it? To find it and take it back to America?”