Fragments (Out of Time) Page 11

  Everything was all harumscarum now. Her heart pounded as she caught her breath. “What just happened?”

  Simon didn’t have an answer.

  “Evan,” she said, gripping his hand. “We’ve got to get to the hospital.” What if the doctor had already done something to him and they were too late? But then why would he hurt Evan? Why was he following them? He’d killed Hans, which was a good thing, she tried to tell herself, but the idea made her sick anyway. He’d just murdered a man. What had seemed straightforward before was suddenly a twisted Mobius strip.

  Simon flagged down a taxi and they both silently urged it to go faster as it headed toward the Thames and Guy’s hospital on the other side. Simon paid the cabbie and they hurried toward the wing where Evan was. All they found at the end of their journey was another dead end. They were politely informed that Evan was not allowed to see visitors — doctor’s orders. It wasn’t hard to guess what doctor. Elizabeth wasn’t sure what she’d expected. It was naïve to think they could just walk out with Evan after everything that had happened.

  What if Evan wasn’t even at the hospital anymore? What if he’d been moved? They’d come here to save him and now he was probably God only knew where. Stymied at the hospital, they went back to the hotel. Maybe Jack could help them. He’d know what was going on.

  Simon knocked loudly on Jack’s door. “Wells!”

  “All right, all right,” came Jack’s voice from inside the room. “Keep your shirt on.” He opened the door and stood aside for them to enter. Harry James’ Sleepy Lagoon played softly in the background.

  “We just saw Hans,” Elizabeth said breathlessly. “He chased us and we ran. But then the doctor, Evan’s doctor, he was there and, I think he stabbed Hans.”

  “I know,” Jack said.

  “We were—” Simon started. “What do you mean, you know?”

  The bathroom door opened and Dr. Webber stepped out, casually drying his hands with a towel. “I told him.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dr. Webber tossed the towel back into the bathroom. “I’m sure you have questions,” he said as he rolled down his shirtsleeves and re-buttoned the cuffs.

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Just a few.”

  Simon edged in front of her. “Stay where you are.”

  “Relax,” Jack said. “He’s one of the good guys.”

  “I like to think so.” The doctor grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “Andrew Blake, British Intelligence.”

  Another spy? She needed a scorecard. “Is anyone in London who they seem to be?”

  “You might be the only ones,” Blake said with a smile.

  If only he knew.

  Blake stepped forward and offered Simon his hand. “I apologize for the ruse, but I assure you, it was necessary.”

  Reluctant at first, Simon eventually shook it. “You’re not a doctor then?”

  “Heavens, no. Can’t stand the sight of blood.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind it a few hours ago,” Elizabeth said. The memory of Hans’ stabbing and Blake’s cold face were at odds with the easy-going charm of the man in front of her.

  “Nasty business,” he said. “Please?” He gestured for them to sit.

  Elizabeth sat in the corner of the sofa, but Simon remained standing behind her. Blake took a chair opposite hers and offered her a cigarette from a silver case in his pocket. When she declined, he tapped the end of his cigarette against the case and then lit it with a matching silver lighter.

  “Why were you following us?” Elizabeth asked.

  Blake plucked a stray fragment of tobacco from the tip of his tongue. “I wasn’t following you. I was following Hans, whose real name, by the way, is Heinrich Bernhardt, SS. We’ve been watching him and his partner for several months now.” He took a deep drag from his cigarette.

  “Apparently,” he continued, slowly exhaling the smoke, “they were involved in the killing of the two Swedish agents near Swindon. It’s possible they were responsible for the injuries Eldridge suffered. He was in bad shape when we found him.”

  “You found Evan?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We took him to the infirmary, did our best to help him regain his health and hoped he could help us recover the Shard. But, it hasn’t quite worked out that way.”

  “His memory,” Elizabeth said.

  “Is selective,” Blake said. “We are quite aware that he is not as ill as he appears.”

  That definitely wasn’t what Elizabeth wanted to hear. She really thought they had that one advantage over everyone else and now even that was gone. It made her wonder what else they knew and weren’t saying.

  “Eldridge has kept his own counsel,” Blake continued. “Until now.”

  “You two weren’t the first people to visit him at Guy’s hospital,” Jack said. “But you were the only ones he spoke to.”

  “That makes you rather special,” Blake said.

  Elizabeth turned to look up at Simon and they shared an uneasy glance.

  “We’re family,” Elizabeth said quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

  Blake smiled enigmatically, but if he knew they were lying he didn’t press the point. “Yes and word of your relationship and visit has spread.”

  Simon stepped forward so that he was at Elizabeth’s side. “There’s still something I don’t understand.”

  Elizabeth’s brain was having trouble keeping up. “Just one thing?”

  Jack chuckled.

  “How did the Germans know about our flat that first night?” Simon asked. “We’d only just arrived. No one knew where we were staying except for staff at Guy’s.”

  “Including myself,” Blake added for him. “Yes, I’m afraid we have a bit of a mole problem. Several of the staff are MI5 and it seems one of them is a double-agent. Your whereabouts weren’t the first piece of leaked information we’ve discovered.” The ash on his cigarette had grown precariously long and Jack slid the ashtray toward him. He tapped the end off and continued. “That’s one of the reasons I was following Bernhardt this afternoon. I’d received word that he might be meeting with our mole. I trailed him into the restaurant where, well, you know the rest of that story.”

  “I suppose we owe you our thanks,” Simon said. “For saving our lives.”

  Blake demurred the compliment with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry you had to see it,” he said to Elizabeth. “I’m sure that was quite upsetting.”

  Elizabeth’s emotions on the subject weren’t just mixed they were pureed. “I know he was the enemy and probably would have done worse to us if you hadn’t, but killing…I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.”

  “Nor should you,” Blake said. “Taking another man’s life should never be done lightly.”

  “Got to admit, I’m not gonna lose any sleep over a Kraut like Hans,” Jack said. “Sick SS bastards. Pardon my French.”

  “Well, be that as it may,” Blake said. “We have a more pressing problem. Eldridge is being moved. Whether Mother is tired of the lapses in security or it’s somehow the work of the mole, our time is running out.”

  Jack was suddenly all business. “Where are they taking him?”

  “The Cage.”

  “That’s not good,” Jack said.

  “What’s the Cage?” Simon asked.

  “An…interrogation facility,” Blake said clearly meaning more than that. “Once he’s there, M19 takes over and I can’t help him or you.”

  M19? How many Ms were there? “When is he being moved?”

  “Tomorrow night. And,” Blake continued, “I’m afraid he might not make it to his destination. He’ll be terribly vulnerable en route.”

  “Right,” Jack said. “And if you know, the mole knows. Whoever they work for, they can’t afford for their only lead to the Shard to end up locked away in the hands of the War Office.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What can we do?” Elizabeth asked. They’d come all this way to save Evan. There had to be something
they could do.

  There was a long, silent pause as the men exchanged glances and Simon said what they were all thinking. “We get to him first.”

  ~~~

  Elizabeth smoothed the adhesive strip of the Band-Aid down against her heel and tossed the wrapper into the bathroom trashcan. The blister from her shoe was raw and irritated. A bit like Simon.

  “It was your idea,” she said as she secured the strap of her shoe, grabbed her eye pencil and went back into the bedroom.

  Simon glared at her from the edge of the bed as he tied his shoe. “I don’t like it.”

  “So you said.” Elizabeth leaned against the doorway. “All last night and all through breakfast, again at lunch—”

  “Please don’t joke about it.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she plopped down next to him. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

  “We don’t have to do this.” He turned to her with his Very Serious face on. “In fact, I don’t think we should.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  Simon started to argue, but only a sigh came out. “No.”

  “And that’s why I love you.”

  “But I still don’t like it.”

  Elizabeth stood back up. “It’s a good plan.”

  “It’s dangerous, reckless, and sure to end with imprisonment or worse.”

  “All the best plans do.” She held out the eye pencil. “Would you?”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “If I’m going to end up in some prison somewhere, I want to look my best, don’t I?”

  Simon shook his head in resignation and took the eye pencil. He motioned for her to turn around.

  It was an odd thing to do, but stockings were in short supply and so, like every other fashion-conscious woman of the day, she drew on the stocking seam with a brown eye pencil. However, she never could get it straight.

  “Lift up your skirt,” Simon said.

  “Why Mr. Cross!”

  He twirled the pencil in the air. “Do you want your seams or not?”

  Spoilsport. Just to irk him she lifted her skirt high and arched her back with a sigh. “I do.”

  “If you’re trying to distract me,” Simon said. “It’s working.”

  She wiggled her bottom.

  “But, if you want these straight,” he said. “You’d better hold still.”

  She did and it was her turn to be distracted. Simon’s hands were warm against her skin and she was sure he moved them in just that sensual way to drive her crazy. Somehow, he managed to draw the lines and then added a very small x at the top of her thigh.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Just marking where I left off.” He stood and turned her around to face him.

  “In case you forget?” she said.

  “Not possible.” He kissed her and then tossed the pencil on the bed. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She handed him his fedora and they left the safety of their room.

  They rode down in the elevator in anxious silence. The city was as still and as dark as midnight. They stood in the shadows on the street in front of the hotel. Both of them wanted to speak, but neither could quite find the words. Finally, Elizabeth broke the uneasy silence.

  “It’s cold. Keep your hat on.” She pulled the brim of his fedora down a bit more snuggly and needlessly straightened the lapel of his coat.

  She could see Simon’s jaw muscle working overtime.

  “You don’t need to say it,” she said. “But the truth is I’m scared out of my gourd and it wouldn’t hurt to hear a little reassurance.”

  Simon laughed lightly. “Do you really want me to placate you with false assurances?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “Everything is going to be all right,” he said and then grew serious and caressed her cheek. “And you are the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

  “You need to get out more.”

  “Elizabeth…” He sighed again. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  She nodded. It was her turn to not trust her voice.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Their kiss was sad and longing and over far too soon. Without another word spoken, they turned away from one another and walked off alone into the cold English night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elizabeth felt like a spy. Not that she had any idea what a spy really felt like, but she was pretty sure they felt like she did — a cross between elated and nauseous. She took the short tube ride from Westminster to Charing Cross where she transferred to the Northern Line up to Warren. She was inordinately pleased she’d managed to buy the right tickets and transfer to the right train. If only the rest of the night were so simple.

  From there she walked to the Euston Square station where one of London’s endless supply of big black taxis was waiting for her. Simon was on a similar circuitous journey in the other direction. All of the walking and transfers seemed silly at first, but they needed to do their best to trim their tails. No doubt, Boris and Natasha and several of the others would try to follow them. Along the way, she never did see anyone she recognized, but they were, unlike her, professionals. Maybe they were even using disguises. Maybe they were right next to her right now. She reined in her galloping paranoia and tried to focus. She had to trust that, with enough changes and double-backs, her trail was too difficult to follow and they’d be free to start the next stage of the operation - rescuing Evan.

  Elizabeth slid into the back of the taxi and tried to calm down. She wanted adventure and, boy howdy, was she was getting it now. The mince pie she’d eaten earlier sloshed around threateningly in her stomach as the driver circled one of London’s roundabouts several times. The whole thing was horrifying, but she had to admit, it was exciting too. Although, it all would have been a lot more exciting if Simon were with her. That part of the plan had been such a serious sticking point she thought Simon would never get unstuck. Both Jack and Blake insisted that she stay with them while Simon took Evan to a safe location. She couldn’t really blame them. In many ways, they were actually sticking their necks out even further than she and Simon were. They certainly didn’t want Simon and her to disappear into the night with Evan. If she stayed with them, Simon was sure to come back and the plan got bonus points for helping to confuse any other parties if they managed to keep up.

  Simon only agreed to that part of the plan once they’d agreed to his stipulation that he choose the safe house for Evan and that location remained his secret. It was the only way to ensure the mole knew nothing of Evan’s whereabouts.

  In the end, and after enough blustering and arguing to put Congress to shame, they all agreed. Both stipulations meant each party entrusted the other with something critical. Trust wasn’t easy to come by for Simon or Elizabeth these days, but she had no reason not to trust these men. Not one, but both of them had saved her life already. Jack had done it twice if she counted Zog. In her book, that was about as surefire a way to earn trust as there was. Simon wasn’t so easily persuaded, but in the end, he gave in. Separating was the only way the plan would work. And if they wanted to keep Evan alive, they needed the plan to work.

  Elizabeth’s cab pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building somewhere in the northern part of London. She paid the fare and got out of the taxi. The noise of the car engine disappeared into the night. The street was quiet and nearly deserted. With no lights, and a thick even cloud cover, she could barely read the street numbers. She found number six and knocked three times in quick succession and then twice more slowly. She was disappointed that there wasn’t a code word. Secret knocks really needed code words to round them out.

  Jack opened the door and hurriedly ushered her inside. “Any problems?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Jack led her down a dark hall to another door. Inside was a small working garage with two cars in it. One was up on blocks and the other pointed toward the door, ready to go. He check
ed his watch. “We’ve got a few minutes. You want something to drink? I think I still have a bottle of Coke I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Elizabeth had never considered herself a sugar addict until she was forced to go without it. It was in such short supply during the war that soft drink companies had all but stopped production. No sugar or soft drinks — it would be a great way to bring modern America to a screeching halt.

  Jack came back with a bottle. “Found it.”

  The bottle was exactly the same as she remembered. It was nice to see that some things didn’t change. He scanned around for glasses and found two cups. He rubbed one cleanish with a greasy rag and handed it to Elizabeth. There wasn’t a bottle opener handy, so he used the edge of a tool cart to pop it open. He poured her cup half full. “It’s warm.”

  “S’okay.” Elizabeth took a sip and closed her eyes in pleasure. It was deliciously sweet. “Heaven.”

  “A little taste of home. Here.” He wiped off a chair and pulled up a partner to it and sat down.

  “Do you miss it?” she asked.

  “The States? Some things, yeah.” He thought about it for a moment and added, “Okay, a lot of things. You like baseball?”

  “Dodger fan.”

  “Brooklyn? Sox,” he said, tapping his chest. “Too bad they stink on ice. Your boys have a chance at the pennant. Who’s your favorite?”

  Oh, she was afraid he was going to ask that. She knew a little about baseball history. Her father had been a serious baseball nut. She tried to pull a name from a shelf in the back of her memory. “Pee Wee…”

  “Reese? Good player.”

  Relief coursed through her. She’d been about to say Herman.

  Jack stretched out his legs. “You know, I was pretty good. Played some high school ball. Could have gone pro, but…” he shook his head. She could tell it still stung after all these years. “Couldn’t hit the curve.” He mimicked a pitcher’s windup. “It starts off here looking like one thing and then when it gets to you, it’s something else.”