Page 38 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

Ellie stood beside Jack near the central table, a slim leather-bound book in her hands. Her grip was tight enough to pale her knuckles. ‘He left this at the club,’ she said, voice low but clear. ‘It’s a cipher, like the ones we used to work on years ago.’

Lockwood approached, sharp-eyed, arms folded. ‘How confident are you this is legitimate?’

‘Enough to bet my father’s life on it.’ That silenced the room. ‘Each number corresponds to a word on a specific line in one of my father’s books. He knew I’d know where to look.’ Ellie paused, glancing at Jack. ‘But I need to get to his study to find the book.’

Lockwood moved closer, studying the note. ‘So our mole now has your father?’

‘It looks that way,’ she said. ‘He signed in at the club as D. Green. The porter described him as tall, fair-haired and well spoken with a military bearing.’

Lockwood’s jaw tightened.

‘That fits Granville perfectly,’ Ellie added. ‘And right now, it’s our only lead.’

Jack stepped forward. ‘My informant confirms activity at West India Docks tonight.’

Lockwood exhaled sharply. ‘You think Harcourt is being moved with the cargo?’

‘They want his work, his expertise,’ Ellie said flatly. ‘But either way, it happens tonight.’

A murmur rippled around the room. Jack rubbed a hand over his jaw, and Ellie noted the struggle in his face. Granville – his mentor, his superior – had betrayed them. The weight of it was crushing, but Ellie couldn’t afford to let emotions stall them.

Lockwood didn’t hesitate. ‘Then we intercept. Jack, take a team. Harcourt goes with you.’

Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Lockwood cut him off. ‘She knows the stakes.’

Ellie met Jack’s gaze. ‘I’m going.’

He sighed and nodded. ‘We leave in twenty minutes.’ He began pacing the perimeter of the room, jaw tight, arms crossed.

As agents scattered to gather equipment, Ellie stepped back from the table, the notebook pressed against her chest. Pa’s cipher remained unsolved, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it held crucial information.

But there was no time now. She blew out a breath.

Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, especially knowing the answers might be right there in her hands.

‘The coast is his best option to flee,’ Jack said, studying the map spread across the table. ‘If Granville’s planning to run, he’ll need those smuggling routes. It’s what I’d do.’

Lockwood hesitated, then nodded. ‘We’ll have teams covering the coast and the stations. If he moves, we’ll know.’

Jack turned to Ellie, eyes wary. ‘You should sit this one out.’

Ellie stiffened. ‘What?’

‘You’re too involved,’ he said, voice low but firm. ‘I know you’ve been on this from the start, but you’re too close.’

The careful control in his tone only made her angrier. ‘You can’t bench me now, not while my father is caught up in this. Besides, Lockwood gave me permission.’

Jack stepped closer, close enough that she could see the conflict warring in his eyes. ‘If anything happens to you …’ He stopped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, words caught on the edge of his tongue.

‘What?’ she exclaimed, her heart hammering.

For a moment, his mask slipped completely. Raw fear flickered across his face, the kind that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with her.

‘I can’t lose you too.’

The admission hung between them like a live wire, and her anger drained away, replaced by something warmer and more dangerous. He wasn’t trying to sideline her because he doubted her.

‘Jack,’ she said gently, stepping closer. ‘I need to be there when we find Granville. You know that.’

He exhaled hard, rubbing the back of his neck, that gesture she’d come to know. The one he always made when he realised he was losing the battle.

‘Fine,’ he muttered. But you follow my orders.’

The possessive edge in his voice sent an unexpected thrill through her. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, and caught the way his eyes darkened at her words. Whatever passed between them didn’t linger. Duty called, and they both answered. Less than an hour later, they were moving.

***

The wail of sirens cut through the night air as Ellie and Jack made their way between the towering cranes of the West India Docks. Above them, searchlights swept the sky in frantic arcs, as the distant drone of aircraft engines grew steadily louder.

A flicker of light leaked from a terraced house on Manchester Road, where a few stubborn residents clung to their undamaged homes. Beyond them, skeletons of buildings loomed, burned out terraces from previous raids.

‘Get down!’ A docker's voice roared from somewhere in the darkness.

Around them, figures scattered as the first incendiaries fell. Fire crews raced between warehouses, their hoses already trained on small blazes, while others smothered the bombs with sand before flames erupted. Work at the docks carried on, air raid or not. All supplies had to be unloaded.

Ahead, the warehouse hunched against the darkness, and a thin mist clung to the ground, rising like breath from the river. Above, the gibbous moon slipped behind a bank of storm clouds.

Jack held up a hand, motioning for the team to fan out. As Ellie edged closer to him, his hand brushed her back; a light touch meant for guidance, but warmth bloomed through her coat.

‘Stay close,’ he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. The words were professional. The tone wasn’t.

She nodded, hyper aware of his proximity as they crept forward. Every few steps, his hand found the small of her back, steadying, protective. She told herself it was just tactics, but the way her skin tingled beneath his touch suggested otherwise.

Two agents peeled off, heading for the far end of the warehouse. Another slipped into the shadows of a moored trawler bobbing against its ropes. If Granville was inside, they had one shot to stop him.

‘If they’re prepping to move, this is our chance,’ Jack whispered. He turned to look at her, and suddenly they were inches apart, his face serious in the moonlight. ‘Stay close. Don’t do anything stupid.’

‘I never do,’ she murmured, but her voice was breathier than she’d intended. His expression shifted, concern warring in his eyes. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then came a noise from the warehouse and the moment shattered.

Jack nodded towards it. ‘Your father’s probably in there.’

Ellie’s fingers curled inside her pockets. From the shadows, one of the agents near the docked vessel gave a signal. Ellie strained to listen. Low, clipped voices. Then the unmistakable snap of a case being opened.

They watched as a tall man emerged, his profile half-lit by a swinging lantern. Granville . Even in the dim light, Ellie recognised the posture, the walk, the infuriating calm of a man convinced he would always be one step ahead. But where is Pa?

Jack hesitated a beat. ‘We go in two minutes.’

Ellie’s pulse raced. A sharp whistle cut through the air from the far end of the dock, making them both flinch.

Another agent signalled from behind a stack of crates.

Someone was loading cargo. They crept forward, footsteps barely a whisper on the dock.

One of the men inside shouted something indistinct.

Jack ducked low and gestured for two of the agents to flank the loading bay.

Ellie followed, breath tight in her chest, every nerve taut.

A burst of light split the dark as the warehouse door slid open.

Inside, the vast space writhed with movement; men shifting crates, the clatter of cargo, the murmur of voices over the slap of water against the piers.

It was impossible to tell who was working for Granville and who was just another labourer trying to keep his head down.

Jack’s hand hovered near his holster as his eyes swept the shadows. Then, a man stepped out, holding a clipboard … and Jack surged forward, slamming him against the wall.

Ellie froze as Jack drove his pistol into the man’s ribs. In that moment, she saw a side of him she’d never glimpsed before; dangerous, controlled, lethal. It should have frightened her. Instead, it sent a thrill darting through her veins.

‘Where’s Richard Harcourt?’ Jack’s voice was edged with anger.

The man stuttered: ‘I … I d-d-don’t know who that is.’

‘Wrong answer.’

As they entered the warehouse, Jack moved with predatory grace, and she found herself studying the line of his shoulders, the measured way he held his weapon. When he glanced back to make sure she was still behind him, the protective intensity in his gaze made her heart stumble.

Granville’s voice rang out from the shadows. ‘Is that you, Jack? My, how punctual.’

Ellie froze. He was in there. No longer hiding. No longer pretending.

Nestled against Jack, Ellie felt the heat of his body, the tension coiled in every muscle. When Granville mentioned her father, Jack shifted slightly closer, a subtle move that placed him between her and the threat. The gesture was so instinctive, so protective, it stole her breath.

He raised his revolver. The warehouse swallowed them in dimness, the air close with the stink of mould, fuel and damp rope.

Crates towered in uneven stacks, their shadows stretching long under the flickering overhead bulb.

Granville stood near the centre, backlit by sickly yellow light.

Two men flanked him, one holding a rifle, the other cradling a narrow crate stamped with Royal Navy insignia. Neither looked like dockhands.

Ellie stepped out beside Jack, spine straight, chin high. ‘Evening, Granville,’ she said coolly. ‘Or should I say Falcon ?’

Granville smirked. ‘Ah, the fledgling learned to fly.’

Jack didn’t lower his weapon. ‘Where’s Richard Harcourt?’

Granville gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Safe, for now. But for how long depends entirely on how this ends.’

Ellie’s breath hitched, but she held firm. ‘You took him to keep us quiet. You’ve already lost that gamble.’

Granville’s gaze slid between them, calculating, amused. ‘But I have leverage.’

Jack stepped forward. ‘You’re not walking out of here, Granville.’

A flicker of warning crossed Granville’s face. ‘Don’t be so sure. You see, if I don’t arrive at a certain place by a certain time, then your dear father will be … dealt with.’

Ellie’s pulse roared in her ears. ‘You won’t get far. Your network’s collapsing.’

Granville’s mask slipped for the briefest second, annoyance sparking in his eyes.

‘You think this ends with me?’ His voice dropped, dangerous as a lit fuse. ‘This war will burn itself out from within. I merely struck the match.’

‘You betrayed your country,’ Jack growled.

Granville tilted his head. ‘I simply saw it for what it was.’

Silence fell, thick and charged. Ellie had heard enough. ‘Where’s my father?’

Granville’s eyes locked on hers. ‘He’s not here, but you’re welcome to chase me instead.’ Then he bolted, like a fox scenting the hounds.

‘Damn it,’ Jack muttered, already moving. ‘He’s making a run for it.’

The man with the rifle raised his weapon. Jack fired first. The shot cracked like thunder, and the warehouse erupted into chaos.

Ellie dived behind a crate as bullets shredded the air above her head and wood splinters rained down. Jack threw himself over her, his body a shield. ‘Stay down!’ he barked. For a heartbeat, she felt the wild hammer of his heart against her shoulder blade.

Through the chaos, Granville ducked through a side door and vanished.

‘Go!’ Jack barked.

Ellie bolted after him, but as she emerged from the building, her breath caught. The Surrey shore blazed against the night sky, a wall of fire that washed the Thames copper. The wind carried a high wall of smoke and sparks across the river: burning embers floating like snow, igniting the darkness.

She caught a glimpse of Granville on the quayside as he leapt down the steps towards the water’s edge. A boat waited below. He jumped in and it had ferried him away by the time she and Jack reached the steps.

‘Christ,’ Jack said, staring at the scene.

Fire-floats raced between burning barges, their water jets arcing through the smoke as they fought to contain the spreading flames on water and on land.

Through the dense, choking clouds, she heard the roar of fire, and the shouts of firemen and dockers cutting through the chaos.

The heat hit her skin like an open furnace, and acrid smoke burned her nose and throat, its bitter taste coating her lips.

Granville's boat threaded between the burning hulks like a ghost ship, barely visible through the firestorm.

Ellie strained to see if her father was aboard, but the boat sailed into the hellish maze of drifting, blazing barges before she could be sure.

For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed the small craft would be consumed by the flames, vanishing into the wall of smoke and fire.

Then, further downstream, it emerged from the inferno like a phantom, following the curl of the river before slipping from view around the bend.

‘Do you think Pa’s with him?’ Her voice was barely audible over the roar of flames.

Jack squinted through the smoke, shielding his eyes from the heat and flying embers. ‘I can’t tell.’

The ack-ack guns pounded away at the night sky, and she caught sight of dark silhouettes moving against the clouds—bombers heading further west into the city.

She turned to Jack, noting the sweat on his forehead, and the cut on his cheek, but his eyes immediately went to her.

‘Are you hurt?’ His hands hovered near her arms, as if he wanted to touch her, assure himself she was all right.

She shook her head. ‘He’s running for the coast, isn’t he?’

He nodded grimly, though his gaze lingered on her face. ‘We’re going to catch him, Ellie. I promise.’

She clenched her fists, staring out over the lake of fire.

Jack moved closer, his solid presence an anchor.

‘I won’t let him hurt your father and I won’t let him hurt you.

’ His tone carried a promise that went beyond duty.

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything unspoken between them.

In the hellish glow, with the Thames ablaze, their partnership deepened into territory far more dangerous and infinitely more precious.

Ellie pulled her coat tighter against the burning wind. The cipher was still in her pocket, and Granville still had her father. But there was still time. This wasn’t over.

Jack moved closer, his voice gentle but urgent. ‘Come on. We need to get away from here. I’ll take you to your mother’s. You need to decode your father’s message.’