The Chase: A Novel (39 page)

Still, there was no reason to be suspicious. Suttill must have told Eddy the flat’s whereabouts. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Lionel said, smiling. He led Eddy in, thinking now about the looks he’d witnessed passing between Eddy and Rachel yesterday. He had been bothered by their mutual attraction ever since.

Eddy glanced around as Lionel closed the door, sniffing. “It smells like a darkroom in here,” he said with a smile. “Have you been developing film?”

Lionel remained smiling as well, hardly perturbed. “I am an amateur ornithologist,” he said.

“What the hell is that?” Eddy asked, finally returning his gaze to Lionel.

Lionel wondered if Eddy had just scrutinized his flat. It was hard to tell. But for all his charm, Eddy Marshall did not seem overly bright. Most of the RAF pilots, while brave, were stupidly so. Mostly they were immature boys who liked to fly and fight. “My hobby is birds,” Lionel said.

Eddy blinked. “Birds?”

“Yes. I watch birds and I photograph them.” Lionel watched him.

He saw Eddy bite back a real laugh. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

He might actually be a moron
, Lionel thought. “I’m a rather clumsy photographer, so I do not show my work.”

Eddy shrugged. Lionel thought the subject was over. But Eddy said, “My best buddy back home is into photography. Where’s your equipment?” he asked, looking curiously at Lionel.

Lionel felt his smile stiffening in place. Maybe it was too soon to judge Eddy “Hawk” Marshall. He might seem glib, boyish, and easygoing, but just how easygoing could he really be? He was a top fighter pilot, no easy achievement. But could he really be any kind of a threat?

Lionel had been taught never to underestimate the enemy. So he reminded himself that in spite of a quick smile and good looks, Eddy wasn’t that stupid, and right now, even though he seemed guileless, he was asking questions. “I keep everything down in the cellar,” Lionel lied. And he almost smiled. For he certainly did.

Eddy nodded. “What do you shoot?” he asked.

“Ducks and geese. Robins and jays. Swans.” Lionel smiled again. “So what brings you here?”

“I thought I’d take you to lunch,” Eddy said. He held up his arm in the sling. “Can’t fly. Got some free time. How about it? You don’t seem to have dinner on.” He grinned. “I owe you one.”

Lionel felt his smile vanish. He had told Suttill he was leaving to take a bite at home, Eddy knew that, and had apparently noticed that there was no sign of a midday meal in progress. Yet he had not once looked at the hot plate where, on occasion, Lionel heated a pot of water or boiled an egg. “How’s the café downstairs?” Eddy asked.

“Not too expensive,” Lionel said calmly.

“It’s my treat. It’s the least I can do,” Eddy said, shifting as if restless, which most of these pilots were. But Lionel became intrigued. Because Eddy was now facing his desk, even though his single glance at it was nothing but indifferent. “This flat’s a good idea,” Eddy said. “So who is she?”

Lionel smiled. Was Eddy stalling or sincere? There was nothing but pads and pens on top of the desk, and although Lionel had been writing down several of the new code names on one scratch pad, he’d burned that piece of paper. Still, the top pad bore the imprints of what he’d written, but Eddy could have hardly noticed by glancing once and so blandly at it.

Lionel did not take his eyes off Eddy. He wanted to catch him regarding his desk. “Gentlemen never kiss and tell.”

Eddy laughed. “Very true. Sorry I asked.”

Rachel popped into his mind, and Lionel felt his body tighten unmistakably. She’d had stars shining in her eyes when she had been with Eddy. It was amusing; it was sickening. “Shall we?”

Eddy nodded with a grin. He turned, causing his line of vision to sweep over the desk.

Lionel continued to smile calmly. Had Eddy seen the envelope in the wastebasket? Lionel glanced directly at it: the envelope was face-up, and the Lisbon return address glared up at Lionel in black handwriting. Still, if Eddy had seen it, it was impossible for him to have read the address, and even if he had, Lionel already had a plausible story about whom he knew in that foreign city.

“Boy, I could eat a horse,” Eddy was saying easily.

As they crossed the room, Lionel began to tingle with a slight excitement. If Eddy was astute and not what he seemed, then Lionel’s life might become very interesting indeed.

They walked downstairs and entered the small restaurant, where they were promptly seated. Both Eddy and Lionel were accorded the utmost respect by the proprietor, with Lionel in full uniform and Eddy in a casual, well-worn RAF flight jacket and cap. The waitress fawned over them both. They ordered shepherd’s pies and ale.

“I saw Rachel last night,” Eddy said, using his cigarette lighter to light a cigarette. He smoked Lucky Strikes—many Americans did. He offered one to Lionel, who declined. Eddy took a drag, leaning against the banquette, seeming happy. “In fact, we have a date tomorrow night as well.”

Lionel was not surprised. So this was why Eddy had come calling. Not because he “owed” Lionel anything, but because he wanted to fuck Rachel.

The entire sordid affair reminded him of Harry. It reminded him of the way Ellen had wanted him, the way so many other beautiful girls had, the way Rachel’s sister had.
But Rachel hadn’t looked at Harry with stars shining in her eyes.
She had liked him, admired him, trusted him. But she hadn’t wanted him that way.

He had never seen such a look in Rachel’s eyes before
.

Lionel sipped his ale, feeling a faint stirring of anger. He shoved it away, and having to do so made him even angrier. Thinking about Rachel—and Eddy—had been tormenting him ever since yesterday. Yet he knew he had nothing to worry about. In fact, he should be happy. Because if she was falling in love with the American, it would eventually kill her. Lionel knew she would never defy her father over a man.

Eddy was speaking, his eyes bright, and Lionel tuned in. “Your cousin is amazing, isn’t she? What a heart of gold.”

Lionel smiled at him. “Rachel would cry if you decided to set traps for a mouse.”

“She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Eddy agreed.

Lionel decided to tell him about the swan. “My stepmother had three beautiful swans. When we were children, one of the swans died. Rachel is the one who found it. She wept over that useless bird.”

“She would,” Eddy said. “She’s a very caring girl. I like that.”

“So I can see,” Lionel said, debating how much to tell Eddy. He doubted the difference of religion would affect the American. But Lionel would take bets on his being possessive and jealous. He would also bet a stack of pounds on the fact that Eddy did not yet know about Joshua Friedman.

“And she’s a knockout. A drop-dead gorgeous woman. And smart!” Eddy exclaimed. “All the beautiful girls at home are bimbos.” He shook his head as if he could not get over it.

“Rachel likes to read. Ask her what she’s reading now,” Lionel prompted. “She’ll tell you Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy or some such thing.”

“Who?” Eddy asked blankly.

Lionel wanted to laugh. He wasn’t surprised that Eddy wasn’t well read. “Where did you go to school?” he asked.

“You mean college?”

“Yes, I mean university,” Lionel said. Now he suspected the other man of not even attending a university.

“I went to a community college,” Eddy said.

Lionel felt satisfied—the man had no education to speak of.

“But just for my freshman year. Then I got a scholarship to Fordham U.” Eddy smiled at him. “I was going to graduate this year, but the war put that on hold for a bit.”

“Your major?”

“Phys ed,” Eddy said promptly. “I plan to teach physical education after the war.” He added, “I like kids.”

Gymnasium
, Lionel thought, pleased. The man wasn’t that bright—he was going to become a gymnasium teacher to a bunch of brats if he survived the war. If Rachel was falling in love, it wouldn’t last, even without the obstacle of her father and their religious differences. Rachel was an intellectual through and through. Eddy would soon bore her.

Then Lionel thought about the fact that he was very handsome and in uniform and a pilot. It might be a while before Rachel figured out that they were not compatible at all.

“How well do you know Rachel?” Eddy asked.

“Our families aren’t close. Still, I am very fond of my cousin, even though we have not spent much time together.”

“Are you Jewish, too?”

The question shocked Lionel. “Of course not.”

“I didn’t think so. So what’s her story?” Eddy asked. “What’s a doll like that doing unattached? And what about her old man? Is he the reason she’s fancy-free?”

Lionel sat back, folding his arms, pleased with the turn of the conversation. “Rachel is hardly ‘fancy-free,’ as you put it, Marshall.”

Eddy sat up. “What?” His smile was gone. His eyes were no longer lazy. They were piercing.

“Rachel is very much spoken for.”

Eddy slowly stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, taking a long time to do so. He looked up. “What do you mean?”

Eddy didn’t look like a man who would one day teach snotty children how to throw a ball. There was nothing lazy about the light in his eyes now. In fact, he looked every bit a fighter pilot—rather intimidating and even dangerous.

“Everyone knows that it is just a matter of time before she marries Joshua Friedman.”

“Joshua Friedman,” Eddy said slowly. Lionel smiled, but only inwardly; outwardly, he kept his expression bland. He could not take his eyes off the American.

“Who the hell is Joshua Friedman?” Eddy said very calmly.

“She didn’t tell you?” Lionel asked.

“No, she did not.”

It was almost nine; Eddy was late.

For two days and two nights, Rachel had not known what to do. It had been impossible to sleep, just as it had been impossible to concentrate while on duty. It seemed that all she could think about was Eddy, while yearning to be with him, but Papa’s stubborn refusal to allow her to see him again haunted her. Rachel was torn. Should she follow her heart—or break Papa’s?

She felt certain that was what it would come down to: if she dared to defy Papa, she would hurt him terribly. He had never recovered from Mama’s death, Sarah was a huge disappointment, but she was his Rachel-lay, the apple of his eye. If she saw Eddy, if she fell in love with him, he would wither up and die, an old and bitterly defeated man.

Rachel stood nervously outside the security gates, where two benches were placed. Three soldiers and another WAAF waiting for friends, family, and rides were seated on the benches, the pair of airmen flirting with the WAAF. Rachel didn’t know anyone except in passing, and she kept her back to everyone, as she did not want to be friendly now. Partly because she was so anxious about seeing Eddy again. He didn’t know she could not go out with him now. She had tried to call him four times earlier in the day, but he had not been at the base. What would he do when he found out?

But the real question haunting her was would he hate her for her choice?

Rachel stopped pacing. She glanced at her small gold wristwatch. It was almost nine-thirty now. Surely he wouldn’t hate her for doing what was, ultimately, right.

Rachel peered up and down the road. Because of the blackout, and the fact that high beams were illegal, one could not discern an approaching vehicle until the very last minute. The night was spectacular in its darkness. Other than the glow of one of the soldier’s cigarette tips, and a few stars overhead, the road, the security gate and booth, and the airbase were cast in shadows and darkness.

Rachel couldn’t believe that he had changed his mind about their date. Her stomach sickened at the very notion. Her heart knew better than to believe that. Had something happened?

She could not help being frightened, which made her more nervous than she already was. What if he was in the air? He could be scrambling even now, while she was waiting for him. What if he had refused to stay grounded; what if he had flown and been hurt? He could hardly fly his plane and man the machine gun with one hand!

She would die if something happened to him
.

Rachel wanted to cry. The extent of her feelings told her that she truly loved this man. How had this happened? Why couldn’t Papa see that he was wonderful? But Papa wasn’t going to change, Rachel thought miserably.

If only she could be more like Sarah. Sarah would never let Papa keep her apart from the man of her dreams.

A pair of dimmed low beams suddenly became visible, and a moment later a motorcar’s engine could be heard. Rachel stiffened, even though she doubted it was Eddy—where would he get an automobile? Unless, of course, he had gotten a lift. The motorcar paused before the security gates, and a man called out. One of the soldiers returned the greeting, and Rachel’s heart sank. As she had thought, it wasn’t Eddy.

Two soldiers left. A few minutes later the WAAF was boarding a small bus headed for Islington, and Rachel was alone.

She shivered even though she wasn’t cold, her thoughts returning to her family. Tomorrow was Shabbat. Because of her religion, she was exempt from duty on the Sabbath, and she would go home before sundown, returning after sundown the next day. In the past, Rachel had always enjoyed Shabbat, when the family sat down to a fine meal together. Even Sarah never failed to be present for their Friday night celebration. Now, for the first time in her life, Rachel dreaded going home.

Rachel suddenly stiffened. A man was walking toward her. He formed a dark, indistinct shadow, emerging from the even darker night—clearly he had come from the underground, which was a few blocks away. Her heart jumped in relief and excitement and even more fear as she recognized the way he moved, the tilt of his head and the width of his shoulders.

“Hello, Rachel,” Eddy said quietly, pausing before her.

It was hard to make out his features in the dark, but she didn’t have to see his face clearly to know that something was terribly wrong. She heard it in his tone. Her apprehension, the feeling of nausea, increased. Did he somehow know what she was going to say? “Hi, Eddy.”