The Chase: A Novel (48 page)

She melted; she touched his stubbled cheek. “What kind of evidence?”

“Photographs. Rachel, this is not a good idea. Jesus! I almost had a heart attack when I got your message that you’d gone to Elgin Hall. Didn’t it ever occur to you that this is a trap?”

She stared. “Yes, I guess it did. But I felt sorry for Lady Ellen.”

“You felt sorry for her?” He was incredulous. “I smell a rat,” he said. “He’s used you to lure me here, by damn.”

Rachel stared in growing horror.

He softened. “He won’t trap me. Don’t worry—I can take care of myself.”

She folded her arms. “Like the time you ditched out over the channel?”

His eyes widened. “How in hell did you hear about that?”

“You never told me!” she accused. That had been months ago, and he was very lucky to be alive—a dinghy with rescue workers had fished him out of the freezing water almost instantly, before he got hypothermia and died.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said.

“You can’t keep secrets from me anymore,” she begged. “I’m your wife. Whatever you are involved in, we are in it together.”

He was silent for one moment. “Rachel, as your husband, it’s my duty to protect you.”

Rachel saw an argument in the making, and that was the last thing she wanted. She put her arms around him and laid her cheek on his strong chest. “Let’s not fight. Let’s get out of here.”

He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. But he did not answer her.

Fear stabbed through her. “Eddy?” She looked up at him and saw the determined look in his eyes. “We can’t stay now! Not if this is a trap!”

“We’ll leave in the morning. I don’t want to spook Elgin. He has no idea I’ve got the goods on him, Rach. We’ll go to bed and first thing tomorrow, I’ll drop you at Bentley Priory and take care of business. If we bail out now, he might go underground, or he might even flee the country.”

Her heart was booming now. “I don’t like this,” she said.

He hesitated. “Neither do I. But it’s too goddamn late to back out now.”

CHAPTER 21

Their bodies had become one.

They moved in perfect unison. It was so new, so wondrous, so exhilarating, yet it was as if they had done this many, many times before. Rachel held his shoulders as Eddy moved over her, inside her, his strokes long, slow, exquisite, the tension escalating between them, the pressure building within her. And just when she could not stand it anymore, just when the power of love and desire became unbearable, his rhythm changed, becoming faster, harder, more urgent. Rachel felt the cries being ripped from the very core of her being. She wanted to be silent—the master suite was at the end of the hall, and God knew where Lionel slept—but her will failed her. Eddy’s name filled the room; it filled the night as he filled her.

Afterward, he rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms. Rachel burrowed there against his chest, spooned into his large, muscular body. Her breathing began to slow. Her mind clicked into its customary coherence, and images from the evening began tumbling swiftly there.

It had been an evening filled with tension and undercurrents.

Eddy suddenly pulled her onto her back, moving over her. “You’re not asleep,” he said.

Rachel’s heart lurched. “No. Eddy, Lionel knows.”

He did not have to ask what she meant. “Yeah. Somehow, he figured out I’m no ordinary pilot. He’s smart.”

She wanted to beg him not to finish what he had begun. But how could she? His courage and determination made him the man that he was, the man she so desperately loved.

He crushed her in his arms, not even kissing her. “I have to go.”

“No!”

He sat up, tossing the sheets aside.

Too late, the words tumbled forth. “Eddy, please don’t. So far nothing has happened. In the morning I will go back to Bentley Priory, and you to North Weald.
Please
? She hadn’t realized until that exact moment just how desperate she was. “You don’t have to do this!”

He stood, sliding on boxers and pants. “Nothing’s happened? Not only did he murder his father, Rachel, he’s a frigging Nazi spy.”

“I mean, nothing has happened between you and him,” she pleaded, almost in tears.

He was pulling on his shirt, his expression grim. He finally looked at her. “I can’t quit now. I just can’t. It’s not who I am.”

Rachel clutched the covers to her chest. “What are you going to do?”

He glanced at his wristwatch, which had an illuminated dial. “It’s two. He should be sound asleep by now. I am going to take a peek around the house.” His tone was easy, his gaze was hard. “You don’t have to worry.”

“But why? You already have those photographs! And maybe he isn’t asleep,” she tried. “Maybe there isn’t anything in the house. He must have gone back and removed the body after we found it! He is very clever!”

Eddy was dressed. He walked over to a chair and lifted his bomber jacket, then dropped it back down. Rachel gasped when she saw the small gun in his hand. “What is that?” she cried.

He tucked it into the waistband of his pants, then slid on the worn leather jacket. “Look, hon. I’d like to find a list of contacts. He isn’t the only agent operating here in Britain.”

“You could search the house another time—after he’s arrested.”

He came over to her swiftly and kissed her forehead. “You worry too much. I’m a tough guy, and Elgin’s a pansy.” It was clear now that he was no longer thinking about her, that he had other matters on his mind. “Try to get some sleep,” he said, and he was gone.

The huge horrible realization of what was happening—and what might happen—hit her now. Eddy was hunting Lionel. Lionel—who was a killer.

Rachel leaped up from the bed, uncaring that she was naked. She ran after him, pausing in the doorway. “Please,” she whispered, clinging to the door. She was so afraid now that her fear blinded her.

He did not hear her, for he was disappearing down the stairs.

He was gone.

Rachel froze, clutching the door. She faced her very worst nightmare—the certainty, in every fiber of her being, that she had seen him for the very last time.

He did not make it to the library. In fact, he did not make it downstairs.

A door was wide open at the far end of the hall, and two small lights were on inside. Eddy took one glance into the room and realized it had to be the parlor of a suite. A large sofa faced the fireplace, brilliant works of art covered the upholstered crimson walls, and a desk that was clearly in use was against an adjoining wall. Eddy did not hesitate. He knocked on the open door. “Lionel?” he called quietly.

There was no response.

He tried again, with the same effect.

Eddy stepped into the parlor, glanced around, reassuring himself that no one was present. Then he crossed it to the next open doorway, where he was greeted with the largest bedroom he had ever seen, with a huge canopied bed in its center. These walls were done in a softer shade of red that was more salmon-hued. Here was another sitting area and another fireplace with a marble mantel. One small nightlight was on; no one was in the bedroom.

“Lionel? It’s Eddy. You still up?”

There was no answer.

Eddy quickly returned to the sitting room, going straight for the desk. He explored every inch of the surface but found nothing incriminating. There were three drawers, but again he found nothing. Lionel was being very careful now. Eddy felt certain that if he ever searched his Knightsbridge flat again, there would be nothing there except pictures of birds.

Eddy glanced at his watch. He’d been in the master suite for less than three minutes. He’d give himself three more. He looked around the parlor and finally saw a small valise under a settee. It was the size of an overnight bag, so he had no reason to be suspicious of it; on the other hand, it should be in the bedroom, not the parlor. He quickly crossed the room, squatted, and opened it. He was expecting to find a radio. Inside was nothing but items of clothing.

Footsteps sounded in the hall.
The valise was a decoy—a trap
.

Eddy had processed the film he had taken at Tantallon, and four microdots were inside a slit in the sole of his shoe. He was going to hand-deliver the microdots to his contact at the American embassy tomorrow. He did not have to make a conscious decision—his every instinct told him to secure the microdots before he came face-to-face with Elgin now.

Eddy left the valise open and in full view at the foot of the settee. He leaped up as he grabbed two of the four microdots, missing the others. The footsteps were just outside the door. He had about fifteen seconds to act.

Eddy crossed over to the fireplace. Just above the mantel was a beautiful painting of two nude women and a parakeet. As he pressed the two dots between the gilded frame and the canvas, the words “Venus and Psychée” caught his eye. He turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Lionel entered the parlor. He stopped short, eyes widening.

Eddy was sweating. He didn’t really know what reflex had caused him to hide the microdots that would definitely incriminate and probably convict Lionel as a traitor, but his reflexes had saved his life too many times to count, and he did not question his own motivations now.

He hardly had the time.

“Eddy?” Lionel wore trousers and a smoking jacket that was an exquisite shade of lapis. He was also wearing black velvet slippers with his initials embroidered on the toes in gold. He glanced from Eddy standing before the masterpiece to the open valise on the floor by the settee.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was going downstairs to find a book when I saw the lights on and the door open.” Eddy smiled. His gun felt hard against his waist. He was acutely aware of it as he slowly removed his hands from his pockets and let them hang loosely at his sides. Lionel would not get the jump on him, oh no. “I was hoping for some company.”

If Lionel realized what Eddy had been doing, he gave no sign. Nor did he question the fact that Eddy was wearing his jacket, and he did not glance again at the obviously ransacked valise. He returned Eddy’s brief smile with one of his own. “How about a nightcap downstairs?”

“That’s a great idea.” Eddy was on alert now. Lionel was too clever to be so dumb; he should be very suspicious of Eddy’s being in the master suite at this hour. Eddy had no doubt that this was a trap and he had no intention of being caught in it.

Lionel stepped aside, but Eddy smiled and said, “After you.” He would not give this man his back.

Lionel suddenly looked at the doorway. “Rachel?” he asked.

Eddy started, turning to look, thinking,
Damn it, I told her to go to sleep.
He was expecting to find her standing in the doorway of Lionel’s suite, but he was wrong. The threshold was vacant.
It was the oldest trick in the book.
And as he was faced with a glimpse of the empty hall beyond, he felt the knife slicing across his throat and jugular.

As he gripped Lionel’s wrists, he heard the gushing of his own blood, and in the mere seconds of life that were left to him, he thought,
I’m dead. He’s won. The fucking bastard has won
.

A split second of life was left to him as Lionel released him and he fell, hard, to the floor. Blackness shrouded him.

His last thought was
Rachel.

The blackness fell.

Beyond it, there was so much light.

Eddy did not return.

The sun was shining brightly, as if it had not rained through half the night. It was a quarter past seven on Christmas Day, and Rachel was fully dressed. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come back?

Rachel thought she might die of grief. Surely he would walk through her door at any moment.

She had not gone back to sleep. About an hour after Eddy had left her, she hadn’t been able to stand the suspense any longer, and she had crept down the hall with a small candle. She had found the door to a man’s suite wide open, and two small lights burning within. The sitting room and the bedroom had both been empty, although a valise was at the foot of the settee, left carelessly open.

She had seen dark, wet stains on the rug. Rachel had been afraid that they were bloodstains. An inspection had told her she was looking at soap and water.

She had continued down the hall and through the house, telling herself that anything might have spilled on the rug, requiring Lionel to clean it up. The house had been huge and frightening, all darkness and shadows, and she had not been able to find either Lionel or Eddy.

Now she heard footsteps in the corridor outside her bedroom door.

Rachel dashed to the door and flung it open. She gripped the knob in shock, for Lionel was just coming in, clearly having taken an early morning horseback ride. He was in his riding boots and a hacking coat, and mud covered the leather uppers. “Lionel!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, good morning, Rachel.” He smiled pleasantly at her, removing leather gloves. “It’s such a beautiful morning, I’ve been out riding. Did you sleep well?”

Had he been out riding all night as well? “I haven’t slept at all,” she cried, her heart hammering uncomfortably. “Where is Eddy?”

He stared. “What do you mean, where is Eddy? Isn’t he with you?” He blinked so innocently at her.

She glared furiously at him. She was shaking now and only just aware of it. “He couldn’t sleep last night. He went downstairs, maybe for a drink, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since!”

“Really?” Lionel was so calm. He seemed mildly surprised. “Maybe he went out for a walk, the way I went out for a ride. I’m sure he’ll be back at any moment; after all, he has to report back to his command.” He came closer and took both of her hands in his. “Your hands are so cold!” he exclaimed.

Rachel stared at his smooth, boyish, handsome face. She wanted to retch, for she was filled with revulsion, but she couldn’t seem to move and didn’t try to pull free of his grasp. “Where is he?” she whispered. “Please tell me what you’ve done with him!” Even as she spoke, Eddy’s words returned to haunt her.

I smell a rat . . . he’s used you to lure me here
.

“Rachel, are you ill? You seem hysterical. What are you saying? I haven’t seen Eddy since we all retired last night.”