The Chase: A Novel

by Brenda Joyce

  “Let’s go downstairs,” Sarah said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “You had better start thinking about the wedding ceremony now. He’s Protestant, you’re Jewish. Who will perform it? And where will it be?”

  Rachel took a breath. Sarah was right. It would take some effort on her part to make the arrangements, and of course, there would not be a wedding, just a small, secret ceremony. Impulsively, Rachel gripped Sarah’s hands. “You’ll be there, won’t you? No matter what? Please, Sarah.” She wished that Hannah could be present, too, but it would not be fair to burden a child with such a secret.

  “Of course I’ll be there,” Sarah said, and as they went downstairs, Rachel knew she was thinking just as Rachel was, about what it would be like not to have a real wedding, with all the food and guests, the dancing and a big white wedding cake. Rachel thought about standing in front of an air force chaplain without Papa there. Her happiness seemed to vanish.

  In three days it would be Christmas—in another hour she would be with Eddy.

  Rachel stood in front of the open but guarded gates at Bentley Priory, unable to contain herself. She clutched a bouquet of roses to her chest, her heart beating wildly. The artillery guard standing behind her were grinning at her, and Sarah, wearing a rather prim navy blue dress and coat and a pair of new black patent-leather pumps, was also smiling foolishly.

  The day was grim and cold, the threat of rain imminent. Rachel was not wearing a coat, but she was not shivering. She was warm. Hot. Faint. Disbelieving.

  A military jeep approached.

  As it came closer, Rachel began to shake and tremble—she saw Eddy in his dress uniform sitting in the front seat beside a BEF officer. Two other officers, both BEF, were in the back. The jeep came to a lurching halt beside Rachel, and Eddy leaped out, eyes wide, staring at her.

  Rachel could not move. It had been almost four months since she had last seen him and she had never been this happy in her entire life.

  “You are so beautiful,” Eddy gasped.

  Rachel said, “I know it’s bad luck to see the bride, but—”

  “Like hell it’s bad luck,” Eddy cried, and he lifted her high and whirled her around and around, her white satin wedding gown flying about them, until they were both laughing, until everyone was laughing, and then he slid her down his body slowly, and his expression changed, as did hers.

  In his arms, her feet still off the ground, Rachel looked into his eyes and felt her heart expanding to impossible dimensions. In that moment, she felt as if she were weightless; that they were floating up in the clouds. He set her down and they kissed, clinging.

  “Enough,” Sarah cried eventually. “The chaplain’s waiting, we have a wedding to perform!”

  Eddy and Rachel moved slightly, reluctantly, apart so they could smile into each other’s eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said huskily. “Is the dress your mother’s?”

  Rachel nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “Yes.” How she wished Mama were still alive. If she were, Rachel knew how happy she would be for her and Eddy, and if she were, she also knew that Papa would be speaking with her. Papa did not know that they were getting married that day, and obviously, he had no idea she had gone into the attic and borrowed her mother’s lovely wedding gown.

  “You must be freezing,” Eddy said then, sliding his arm around her. “What are you doing, waiting for me out here in that dress without a coat?”

  “It’s been so long, Eddy,” she whispered as they walked back to base, Sarah falling into step beside them.

  “I’m sorry, hon, I am. But the boys were so damn raw when I got them, not to mention us being stuck with a bunch of old Brewster Buffaloes. We’re getting our Spitfires in another six weeks.” His eyes brightened even more. The squadron also had several Hurricanes, one of which was Eddy’s. Rachel had kept abreast of the Eagles’ situation from the moment she had learned of Eddy’s transfer in October. He currently had fifteen kills to his credit, an amazing record. No American had more. “Man, do I miss my old girl.”

  Rachel knew he meant his old Spitfire from Biggin Hill. “I’m not even nineteen, dear,” she said primly.

  He laughed and turned to Sarah. “Hi. I’m so glad we finally get to meet.”

  “So am I,” Sarah said with a smile. “Rachel did not exaggerate when she spoke of you.”

  Eddy gave Rachel an affectionate glance and bounded ahead of them to open the door. The chapel was housed in a small brick building with a whitewashed porch.

  Sarah said to Rachel, under her breath, “Boy oh boy. Handsome, dashing, and a real gentleman.”

  “I know,” Rachel whispered back, clutching her roses tightly. “I am the luckiest girl alive.”

  They got out of a cab on a quiet street in Knightsbridge. It was lined with white-plaster two- and three-story homes. Tall trees shaded the street. Every house had a small grass lawn in front, and one neighbor had a stone walkway with hedges lining the property. In the summertime, the azalea bushes would be in bloom.

  “Where are we?” Rachel asked, still dazed. They were married. Eddy was her husband. She was wearing a small, antique gold wedding band to prove it. And they had papers.

  She was now Mrs. Edward Marshall.

  Eddy grinned and swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stone walk, Rachel clinging to him. An idea was occurring to her—but it was impossible—wasn’t it?

  The front door and window boxes of the house were a freshly painted shade of evergreen. Eddy used his hip to open the front door, which was unlocked, and he carried her inside.

  Rachel felt her eyes widen. They had stepped into a small parlor with shining wood floors, what looked like a brand new couch, a pretty antique coffee table, and freshly painted, canary-yellow walls. A fire was burning in the stone hearth. Still clinging to Eddy’s broad shoulders, she took in the yellow-and-white curtains. Narrow stairs led to the next floor; ahead, Rachel could glimpse a kitchen that had recently been painted white. She glimpsed blue-and-white gingham curtains inside, which looked brand-new, as did the white enamel stove and refrigerator.

  “Do you like it?” Eddy’s voice in her ear, his breath feathering her neck, jolted her out of her amazement.

  She blinked at him, her body stirring, tightening. “Like it? I love it! Whose house is this?”

  “Ours,” he said, sliding her to the floor.

  Rachel would have stumbled in shock and disbelief if he hadn’t been holding her. “What?” she gasped.

  “I’ve leased it for us. You can stay here now, and I’ll come as often as I can. Maybe you might want Sarah to move in.” He was smiling. “I think she’d be happy to.”

  “What have you done!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.

  “You’re my wife,” he said simply, embracing her hard.

  Tears filled her eyes. This was their new home. Of course she would ask Sarah to move in! “But how can you afford this?”

  He smiled a little. “I’m not a poor man. I wired home for some of my savings. And two of my brothers sent us some dough as a wedding gift.”

  Rachel could not speak.

  “Do you really like it, Rachel?” he asked in a husky tone.

  “It’s the most beautiful house in the world,” she managed.

  His gaze seemed to turn to smoke before her very eyes. “I am glad.” Then, “You have made me the happiest man on this planet, Rachel.”

  Rachel thought she saw tears sparkling on his eyelashes.

  Eddy released her and turned away. Rachel let him compose himself. He walked over to the hearth to prod and poke the fire. Then he turned and he was himself again. “Sarah did the decorating. I hope that’s all right.”

  Rachel nodded, starting to cry.

  “Rachel!” He rushed over to her.

  “I’m so happy it hurts,” she whispered.

  “Good.” He was fierce. He cupped her face and kissed her, hard.

  They hadn’t seen each other, or touched each ot
her, or kissed in four months—not until that morning. Rachel sank into his arms, opening hungrily for him. She had not been exaggerating. The beauty of her love was painful. It crossed her mind as they sank onto the rug that she wished he weren’t a pilot.

  He settled on top of her, amid the ballooning skirts of her wedding dress. An instant later he was propped up on his elbows above her, and they were both laughing. “That dress is beautiful, but,” he said.

  “It’s a big but” Rachel agreed.

  The dress was removed, as were her slip, garters, nylons, brassiere, and panties. Eddy’s clothes followed, tossed into the same pile, much, much more quickly.

  He loomed over her. Rachel touched his face. “I love it when you look like this,” she said. “So intense, so determined.”

  His jaw was flexing. So were the muscles in his arms and chest. “I am determined. I can’t wait”

  “Then don’t,” she said, and as he slid into her, she closed her eyes and held him, and the love inside her breast expanded impossibly until she thought that her heart would burst.

  They paused outside their home in the gray dawn of the following morning. Rachel had to be back at Fighter Command by six-thirty, and she had just learned that a second Eagle Squadron was being formed. Eddy had to report to Bentley Priory at nine for several staff meetings before he would rejoin his men. They had about an hour left before Rachel reported to duty. It was still as dark as night outside, and here and there, a few fat raindrops were falling.

  Eddy locked the door. “We’re just a few blocks from your cousin’s.”

  Rachel was hardly awake. They had made love all night. Now she no longer feared a pregnancy; in fact, they both wanted a child, and soon. She yawned. “What?”

  But Eddy was fully awake. “Elgin. His flat is a five minute walk from here. Would you mind if I put you on the underground by yourself instead of taking you back to base?”

  Instantly Rachel was fully awake. She was too alarmed to be disappointed. “Why? What are you going to do?”

  He looked at her. “Drop by.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “After all, I’m in the neighborhood.”

  Rachel had never seen such a hard light in his eyes, and she shivered. What was going on? “Eddy, it’s a quarter to six.”

  “I know. I’ll hang out at the café for an hour, then see if he wants to have a ‘spot o’ tea.’” He mimed her accent for the last three words.

  Rachel could not be amused. “But you don’t like Lionel.”

  “Hon, just trust me on this one,” he said lightly. He took her arm and started walking.

  Oddly, panic surged within her breast. “I’m coming with you,” Rachel said determinedly.

  “No. Definitely not.”

  “Eddy, I’m coming with you.”

  He glanced at her as they crossed the deserted street. “You’ll be late.”

  “Yes, I will. But he’s my cousin. And—” She stopped and faced him, barring his path. “What is this about, Edward?”

  His eyes widened at her language and her tone. Then he smiled and said, sheepishly, “You’re acting like a wife.”

  “I am your wife. Why would you visit my cousin now, at this hour? I don’t like this.”

  He sobered. “It’s official,” he finally said.

  That was the very last answer she expected. She stared. A raindrop plopped down on the tip of her nose.

  “Look. My superiors have asked me to check into strange. . . circumstances. That’s all I’m doing. We both think Elgin’s strange. I need to see a few of his bird pictures. That’s all,” he repeated.

  Rachel found it difficult to breathe. She wasn’t an idiot. She worked at Fighter Command, in an intelligence unit. His “superiors” were in the air ministry. Weren’t they?

  But this was war. Panic and propaganda were everywhere. Average citizens were warned to be on the lookout for German agents and members of the Fifth Column. In fact, German agents were constantly found in the most unusual places within Britain—strangers would suddenly appear in a small coastal village, carrying German-made flashlights or speaking with an unmistakable foreign accent. They were arrested immediately, usually by the Home Guard.

  “It’s not a big deal, Rachel,” Eddy said.

  Rachel hugged herself. “Good. Then I can come with you.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Are you always going to be difficult like this?” But his voice was tender.

  “Yes,” she said, and her tone wasn’t light, it was filled with tension.

  “Okay. We’re wasting time.” He took her hand and they hurried briskly down the block.

  Rachel hurried to keep up. “I still think you are wrong about Elgin. Lionel has always been odd. He’s still odd. He was an eccentric boy, and now he is an eccentric man.”

  “I call it ‘better safe than sorry,’ ” he said firmly.

  They continued in silence for several blocks. Finally they were about to turn a corner when Eddy yanked her back around it and pulled her against the wall. “Well, well,” he said, a low murmur of satisfaction.

  Rachel’s heart skipped a series of beats. “What is it?”

  He didn’t answer, peering cautiously around the side of the building, clearly not wanting to be seen. He popped back behind the corner. “This is our lucky day.” He smiled at her. It was a smile she had never seen before.

  It was chilling.

  Rachel stared at his set face. He had a ruthless resolution now that she had never suspected existed. But this had to be why he was such a successful fighter pilot. This was why he was still alive. “What is it?”

  Eddy continued to peer around the side of the building. “He’s leaving. Getting off to an early start. I didn’t realize these ministries started their business at the crack of dawn.”

  They did not. Not usually.

  Eddy pulled her out from behind the corner. “He’s gone. He just drove off in that Bentley of his. Funny, he’s still using that car, with all the petrol rationing.”

  They crossed the street, watching carefully for traffic in the near-dark dawn, as a few motorists and cyclists had appeared. An old limestone building faced them. The café was on the ground floor, but its windows were all gone, as was the front door. Someone had boarded up the entrance. The building next to it had been partly demolished by a bomb. The blast had damaged the café as well. An OUT OF BUSINESS sign was tacked onto a board.

  The building was a walk-up, Rachel saw, and it housed two apartments to every floor. The front door, massive and wooden with a small window, was locked. Rachel looked expectantly at Eddy as he tested the knob. They would have to abandon their plans, Rachel thought, not at all disappointed.

  Eddy took an object out of his pocket. It was long and thin. Rachel saw him insert it in the lock. “That’s a pick!” she cried.

  “Ssh. I told you what I did before the war,” he said in a low voice.

  Rachel stared as he pushed open the door, having effortlessly picked the lock in seconds. She did not like what was happening, what she was seeing—it was almost as if she were with a stranger.

  But that was impossible. This was Eddy, her husband.

  They hurried upstairs, Rachel following a step behind and filled with trepidation. As they paused in front of apartment 2, Rachel asked, keeping her voice down, “Are we breaking in here, too?”

  “Yes.” Eddy tried the knob; the door was, unsurprisingly, locked.

  “This is against the law.”

  “So are a lot of things.” He picked this lock with more difficulty—he had to take a shorter and thinner pick from inside his jacket to do so. It took him about three minutes.

  Rachel was bewildered. “I’m not sure we should be doing this,” she tried nervously, glancing across the hall at the opposite door. “What if the neighbor steps out?”

  “If you keep talking, he undoubtedly will,” Eddy said, opening the door and shooing her in. He closed and locked it behind them.

  Rachel was relieved th
at they had not been caught. She glanced around the small flat nervously. “So what is it that you did for the FBI?” she asked.

  He did not answer her.

  Instead, he walked over to the wastebasket and dumped it upside down. Rachel could only stare. He sorted through a few tissues and papers, as if looking for something. Curiosity overcame her worry. “What are you looking for?”

  He said, “Remember when I told you Elgin received mail from Lisbon? I’m looking for unusual mail.”

  Rachel came over. “Why, Eddy?”

  He said only, “Nothing useful here.” He stood and looked at the neat top of the desk where a pad and a few pens lay. He opened the drawer—inside were various items, including a lead pencil. He picked up the pencil and darkened the entire top page of the pad. Rachel peered curiously over his shoulder, forgetting her fears.

  Words had emerged through the lead. “Tantallon Dec. 24 0700,” she murmured. “That sounds like a time, date and place.”

  “Where’s Tantallon?” he asked, tearing off the top page and putting it in his pocket.

  “Up north on the coast in Scotland,” she said, and she began to have an inkling. She shivered. “What are you thinking?”

  Going through the two drawers, he did not answer. Rachel saw more pens, stationery, and a small tray with paper clips. There was also a pot of ink that looked new and unopened, as well as a small jar. Eddy picked up the jar and opened it. He sniffed, stuck a finger in. “What is this?” He showed it to her while tasting his fingertip with his tongue.

  “I don’t know. It looks like a powder.”

  Eddy grimaced at the flavor. He tore another page from the pad, poured some powder on top, folded the page securely around the powder, then put that in his pocket, too. He replaced the jar of powder in the drawer.

  Rachel hugged herself. “You’re intelligence,” she said hoarsely, filled with fear. Fear for him, for them.

  Eddy slowly turned to face her. He was so grim.