Page 15 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

T he air inside the Green Man was thick with smoke and the damp, lingering scent of spilled ale.

A low hum of conversation filled the space, punctuated by bursts of laughter from soldiers on leave and the occasional bark of a barman calling last orders.

The place was packed with off-duty officers, factory workers and men in uniform making the most of a brief reprieve from war.

Ellie slipped inside, unbuttoning her coat as she scanned the room. The warmth from the bodies and the coal fire in the hearth was immediate, a stark contrast to the bitter cold outside.

She spotted Jack at a corner table, cradling a whisky glass in his hand, turning it absently between his fingers.

His raven hair fell across his forehead in that familiar way, but tonight the short back and sides looked almost boyish in the pub’s golden light.

When he glanced up, those pale-blue eyes, reminiscent of the Cornish coast, sharpened as they found hers.

For a second he watched her, as if assessing whether she would stay or walk away.

Ellie slid onto the wooden seat opposite, acutely aware of her sensible tweed skirt and thick lisle stockings.

Practical clothes for practical work . Around them, other women wore patterned frocks and bright lipstick, but she hadn’t come here to turn heads.

She took in his appearance, the crisp white shirt that looked like Anderson the long hours, his irritability, the secrecy behind his study door. He was engaged in top secret work for the war effort.

He hesitated. ‘We can’t discuss it here.’

She watched him closely, noting the flicker of strain at the corners of his mouth, the stiffness in his shoulders. ‘Seems like a lot of things are top secret lately.’

Jack gave a half-smile, but it faltered before it could land. ‘You’ve always had a head for puzzles. Wouldn’t surprise me if you crack the rest of it by nightfall.’

She didn’t smile, her fingers tightening around her glass. ‘Doubtful. I’ve figured some of it out, but the rest remains an enigma I’m afraid.’

He leaned in, his voice taut. ‘Ellie, whatever you think this is, it’s bigger. You don’t know what you’re walking into.’

She looked down at her glass, the rose-coloured liquid trembling faintly in her hand. ‘Two men are already dead,’ she said quietly. ‘Templeton. Lambert. And I’ve no intention of allowing my father to be next.’

‘And I don’t want to see your name added to that list.’

His voice cracked slightly, and that rare break in his composure drew her eyes to his. ‘You keep saying that,’ she murmured. ‘But you still treat me like I’m going to break if I step out of line. Like I don’t already know the cost.’

Jack didn’t answer. He stared at her, jaw tight, fingers curled around his glass as though he was trying to anchor himself.

‘I’ve been followed,’ she added. ‘There was a man outside my flat. The night Lambert died.’ She saw the flicker of alarm in his eyes.

‘Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I don’t know who I can trust,’ she said, the words slipping out sharper than she intended. ‘Not MI5. Not the Yard. Maybe not even you.’

Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping to a rasp. ‘MI5 knows there’s a mole. We’ve suspected for months but now we’re close. Closer than we’ve ever been. That coded message … it might confirm what we’ve feared.’

Ellie’s fingers stilled on the rim of her glass, Calloway’s warning echoing in the back of her mind like a siren. She was in this up to her eyes. And now she knew enough to be dangerous.

Jack was watching her closely. ‘If you discover anything else, or work anything out, you must tell me. Deal?’

He wanted answers as badly as she did. Templeton’s note wasn’t a tangle of words anymore.

It had started to unfold like a game of chess, each phrase a move with purpose, each codeword sliding into place with quiet inevitability.

She should have felt overwhelmed. Frightened, even.

But some part of her deep down was sparking with the thrill of it.

The logic, the layers, the hidden meaning buried beneath plain language.

It was like solving an equation in the middle of a firestorm.

Terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Jack didn’t know it yet, but she was playing to win.

She swirled her drink, letting the silence stretch, unsure if she was protecting herself or testing him.

‘Depends.’

He frowned. ‘On what?’

She met his gaze head-on. ‘On whether you’re going to let me in. You can’t keep shutting me out, Jack. Not if you want the truth.’

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Around them, the clink of glasses and bursts of laughter rose and fell like the tide, distant and unimportant.

‘I think the mole is in the department. Someone close enough to be tracking the case.’

Ellie didn’t respond right away. An old and familiar niggle stirred inside her, the same instinct that had flared when Sinclair vanished without a word. That bone-deep certainty that whatever this was, it went further than anyone was willing to admit. At last, she nodded. ‘Then let me help you.’

A muscle twitched in his jaw, then he took a slow sip of his whisky, an obvious delay tactic. The movement was too measured, too controlled, the tension in his shoulders betraying him. What was it that was holding him back?

Ellie leaned back in her chair, watching him as his eyes flicked towards the hearth, never quite meeting hers for more than a few seconds at a time.

This wasn’t about the case. It was about trust. ‘You don’t think I’m ready,’ she said softly.

‘But I am. And I won’t look away from this, Jack. You know that.’

He didn’t answer, but the flicker in his expression – a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration – told her everything.

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing his jaw like he was trying to wear down the edge of his own resistance.

‘Damn it, Harcourt. You know I can’t bally tell you.

It’s all hush-hush. Besides, the less you know, the safer you’ll be. ’

The silence between them thickened, not hostile but charged, and Ellie bristled, clenching her jaw. She didn’t want safety: she wanted results.

Then he leaned in slightly, his voice a murmur. ‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing … don’t.’

The words landed like lead in her chest. ‘And if I already have?’

The pause that followed stretched – weighty, and unresolved – then Jack shook his head which only incensed her further. She wasn’t about to allow Jack Stratton to get in her way, and he knew better than to try. Neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away.