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

J ack Stratton closed the distance between them in three long strides, his voice low but firm. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Harcourt.’

‘Funny. I was about to say the same to you.’

His lips pressed into a thin line. ‘This isn’t your case anymore.’

‘Looks like murder to me.’

He exhaled sharply, glancing over his shoulder. His colleagues were already closing in on Calloway, flashing their credentials, making it clear this was now their scene. One of them pulled back the sheet, revealing the gaping slash across the victim’s throat: raw, red, obscene.

Ellie’s pulse leapt. Whatever this was, it wasn’t routine. Three of them, barging in, pushing her out.

A small crowd had begun to gather at the mouth of the lane. ‘Hop it!’ Calloway barked, waving them back. ‘Nothing to see here. Move along.’

Jack’s face froze as he stared at the corpse. ‘Christ,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘It’s Sir Charles Templeton.’

Calloway looked up sharply. ‘You’re certain?’

‘Met with him last week,’ Jack said. ‘He worked for the War Office.’

He turned back to Ellie, stepping in close enough that she had to raise her chin to meet his gaze. ‘Stay out of this.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What’s the real issue here, Jack? Worried about my safety? Or worried I’ll figure out what you haven’t?’ The muscle in his jaw twitched – still smarting from the Higginson-Brown ball, apparently.

Thoughts hurtled through her mind. MI5 wouldn’t be here unless this case touched classified ground, war-related.

And Jack wouldn’t be warning her off unless he knew exactly how far it reached.

‘It’s good to see you too,’ she murmured, before turning on her heel and stepping back towards Calloway.

If MI5 were involved, that meant Templeton’s cryptic note mattered, and she was right.

Jack exhaled, rubbing a hand over his chin as he turned back to the body. ‘We need his personal effects, Chalmers.’

The broader man beside him turned, eyes narrowed, jaw already working a chew as if he’d eaten a lemon slice. ‘Got them,’ he said flatly, as if the request was a personal insult.

Chalmers . The fellow with the limp. Ellie’s eyes flicked to him. There was an arrogance to him, the way he looked down his nose at her, despite being barely taller, and her hackles rose. She could already tell he didn’t approve of women in the field. Tough luck , chum.

‘And who’s this, then?’ Chalmers asked, giving Ellie a once-over laced with disdain.

‘WPC Harcourt,’ she said, calm and steady.

Chalmers let out a short laugh, glancing theatrically around the scene. ‘Sending volunteers to crime scenes now?’

Ellie met his gaze, unbothered. Jack cut in smoothly before Chalmers could say anything else. ‘She’s staying. Back off.’

Chalmers blinked, surprised, but said nothing as he shot her one last glance that made her want to roll her eyes and file him under irrelevant men with loud opinions .

A constable approached with the evidence bag and handed it to Stratton, who reached inside and sifted through its contents. Ellie shifted slightly, keeping her expression neutral as she mulled over the code in her mind. Whatever it was, it mattered enough for someone to kill.

Calloway withdrew the note from his pocket and swiftly gave it the once-over. Jack held out a hand. ‘I’ll take that.’

‘Bit quick to claim evidence, aren’t we, Stratton?’

Jack’s expression didn’t flicker. ‘This is now a matter of national security.’

Ellie stood back, watching the two men. Our case .

The murder was no longer Scotland Yard’s concern.

Her gaze flicked to her boss, who, after a beat, handed the slip of paper over.

Jack barely glanced at it before tucking it into his coat pocket.

No matter , she thought, repeating the code in her mind like a mantra.

Numbers. Cryptic words that, for now, made no sense.

But she had cracked codes at Oxford for fun – how hard could it be?

When she looked up, he was watching her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, though Ellie could feel it – the weight of his gaze burning through hers as she stood a few steps apart from the others.

He knew her and he knew enough to recognise that she’d seen something he hadn’t.

That she was already thinking ahead in a way that made him uneasy.

The pieces on this chessboard were moving faster than she liked. If Templeton had been betrayed, then the traitor already knew the note existed. That was clearly what they were after.

Jack’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘Let it go, Harcourt.’

His expression shifted: not the cold dismissal she expected, but a flicker that looked almost like worry.

The expression was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual professional mask.

She met his gaze with her own – calm, unshaken – and smiled faintly.

‘Already forgotten.’ But she wasn’t about to forget anything, not for one second.

Calloway gave a terse nod to Dawson and Whitaker. ‘Stay with the body until the police surgeon arrives,’ he muttered. Then, without another word, he turned and walked to the car.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, casting one final glance at the scene, at the men who’d already started writing her off. The surgeon and the photographer were taking their time, likely caught up in the chaos from the raid. She adjusted her gloves and followed Calloway.

***

Ellie slid behind the wheel, as Calloway settled into the passenger seat beside her with a grunt.

He didn’t usually sit up front. That alone told her he was rattled.

For a while, he said nothing, simply stared out at the city as she drove.

The dim glow of blackout-shielded headlamps flickered ahead, barely cutting through the darkness.

Thank goodness for the white painted stripes on the kerbs, though one had to strain to see.

‘All this fuss for one stiff in an alley,’ he muttered, fracturing the silence. ‘MI5 turning up like vultures. I reckon Stratton fancies himself as Churchill.’ He tutted.

Ellie kept her eyes on the road. ‘He wasn’t your average drunk in a doorway, sir.’ This wasn’t another unfortunate, caught in the Blitz.

‘True enough,’ Calloway said quietly. Then, louder: ‘This is more than your average murder, Harcourt. You mark my words.’

She flicked a glance at him. He continued staring straight ahead, but his tone had hardened. ‘Funny thing about Stratton tonight,’ Calloway mused, gazing out of the passenger-side window. ‘Seemed more rattled than territorial if you ask me. Kept watching you when he thought no one was looking.’

Ellie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Not the way a man looks at someone he dislikes,’ Calloway said, slowly. ‘More like someone he’s trying to protect. Makes a fellow wonder what he knows that we don’t.’

The words settled uneasily in Ellie’s chest. She’d been so focused on their history, on the humiliation and resentment, that she’d missed the deeper truth entirely.

That flicker in his eyes when he’d warned her off hadn’t been spite.

It had been fear. But fear of what? And why did Jack think she needed protecting?

‘There’s a rat away somewhere,’ he muttered. ‘And I’m going to flush it out.’

Ellie’s lips curved faintly. Not if I get there first.

‘Rats,’ he continued. ‘You don’t see them in the beginning. And that’s half the trouble …’ he trailed off. Then, after a pause: ‘Since this war started, we’ve had dozens of sympathiser arrests. Half of ’em tucked away in cells, the rest under watch.’

The war had torn through London like shrapnel through fabric, exposing loyalties, secrets and ambitions. The cracks had always been there, but the Blitz had made them deeper.

Calloway shifted in his seat. ‘And Whitehall’s been off lately,’ he grumbled.

‘People whispering. Files going missing. Eyes watching, but no one knows who’s watching who.

’ He shook his head. ‘The whole thing stinks, Harcourt. Worse than a barrel of rotten eels. There’s more twists and turns than in one of them Agatha Christie novels my wife’s forever harping on about. ’

As they turned onto Baker Street, the city around them felt hollowed out, dark, watchful and waiting.

The hum of the engine seemed louder in the silence between them, and Ellie stole a glance at her superior.

He gave a dry little cough, still gazing out of the window.

‘You handled that scene well, Harcourt.’

Her breath caught. What the dickens? ‘Thank you, sir.’ Wizard praise from the boss. Whatever next?

For all his bark, Calloway was no fool. Gruff, yes.

Pig-headed at times. But when he sensed trouble, he didn’t let go.

And tonight, he was on edge. The way his eyes had narrowed when MI5 stepped in …

He didn’t like being sidelined. And he really didn’t like someone else walking off with his evidence.

Maybe he sensed what she did about the victim.

He wasn’t the target of a robbery. That cryptic note pointed to far bigger concerns.

‘Stratton,’ he said after a moment, as if chewing on the name. ‘What’s Jack Stratton doing tangled up in this mess?’

Ellie hesitated. ‘I’ve known him for years, sir,’ she said lightly.

‘A friend of yours, is he?’ Calloway barked a laugh. ‘Your mother would’ve been over the moon if you’d married into that lot. Posh as a brass button. Never liked that other one – Chalmers. Bit too … smooth.’

She didn’t answer as her thoughts drifted back to Jack.

Their families were acquainted, though Ellie’s mother disapproved of him.

New money was the reason: Mother had always been a snob.

Never once had she suggested Jack as a potential suitor, though to be fair it had probably been a wise decision.

Stratton was many things. Arrogant, infuriating, secretive, frustratingly competent.

But tonight she’d caught him off guard, seen past the usual mask.

There’d been a warning in his eyes, yes.

But also genuine worry. Fear, maybe. And not just for her.

As they pulled into the yard, Ellie cut the engine and stared ahead through the rain-speckled windscreen.

The secret code whispered to her, each phrase like the beat of a metronome ticking beneath the surface of her thoughts.

Echo 7. White Hart. Kingfisher. Merlin’s Eye.

This was no ordinary case. It was a warning, she was sure of it.

Someone had already killed to keep it secret.

And Jack Stratton knew more than he was willing to share; she’d stake her life on it.

Meeting with the murder victim a week ago. What was that about?