Page 8 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)
N ew Scotland Yard loomed behind her, a Gothic fortress of red brick and Portland stone; broad shouldered, smoke-streaked and unmoved by sun or sky.
Some said it was ugly. Catherine certainly had.
She’d once called it ‘positively Victorian’, with a theatrical shudder that made Ellie roll her eyes.
Ellie had pointed out rather dryly that the place had been extended twice and now housed a forensics department, but Catherine did have a point.
The main building was Victorian, with a rabbit warren of dark corridors, cramped offices, drab walls and peeling paint.
It was draughty in winter and ingrained with a permanent aroma; a blend of cigarettes and boiled cabbage.
From the outside, Ellie thought New Scotland Yard looked grand.
Inside, of course, was another matter. But then, the Metropolitan Police force wasn’t running a hotel.
It was a place for getting things done, not for making anyone comfortable.
Beyond its walls, the city sparkled, and Trafalgar Square basked in the September sunshine.
A celestial blue sky stretched wide above the rooftops, barrage balloons tugging gently at their moorings like ghostly sea creatures adrift above the Thames.
Below, London hummed, a tide of pedestrians gliding along pavements, lorries rattling by with painted slogans: Keep Mum – She’s Not So Dumb . Dig For Victory .
Catherine had telephoned earlier and said she was nearby if Ellie wanted to meet up for a cup of tea.
She’d managed to slip away – not a proper break, more of a detour on the way to follow up on a stolen ration book reported by a grocer in Soho.
It wasn’t urgent, but Calloway had waved her off with some muttered words about making herself useful.
She figured she could spare twenty minutes.
Through the glass of the Lyons’ Corner House on Coventry Street, Ellie spotted Catherine already seated near the window and waved as she headed inside.
‘You look positively grey ,’ Catherine said, half-rising to greet her. ‘You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.’
‘I’m fine,’ Ellie replied, unwinding her scarf. The scent of tea and baking clung to the air, mingling with cigarette smoke and damp wool. Servicemen and women murmured over chipped saucers. Somewhere behind the counter, someone laughed too loudly.
Catherine pressed on. ‘Honestly, you need to stop chasing about like a terrier. I’ve seen it before: these girls in the ATS, puffed up with duty, worked to the bone by officers who don’t know when to let up. You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out.’
‘I’m not in the ATS,’ Ellie said, but without bite.
Catherine poured the tea. ‘You know what I mean.’
Ellie reached for her cup and blew the steam away before taking a careful sip. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I …’ Ellie paused, catching herself. Catherine’s face was open, concerned. Too open. Ellie exhaled and took another sip of tea. ‘Because we found a note on the body, cryptic as anything. I can’t afford to slow down, not until I’ve worked out what it means.’
Catherine blinked. ‘What does it say?’
Ellie shook her head quickly, waving a hand as if brushing the thought away.
‘Just random words. Could be gibberish for all I know. It’s just …
’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Well, it’s the most exciting thing I’ve done yet.
Beats filing reports and typing up statements.
And if I have to drive the Chief Inspector around one more time, I swear I’ll swerve into the Thames. ’
Catherine chuckled, but her eyes lingered. ‘Still. I hope they know what they’ve got in you.’
Ellie picked up her bun and took a bite, savouring the sweetness.
Catherine glanced at her watch. ‘I should get back. If I leave now, I’ll catch the next bus.’
Ellie smiled, rising. ‘Thanks for this. I needed a moment to breathe.’
‘You need more than a minute,’ Catherine said, slipping her gloves back on. ‘You need sleep, and hot dinners and a good week in the countryside.’
‘I’ll settle for not being bombed today.’
They stepped out into the square together. The wind tugged at their coats. Ellie turned to her flatmate. ‘Did I tell you I won’t be home for dinner? I’m going to see my parents this evening.’
Catherine smiled. ‘Yes, you did. Three times.’
‘Oh!’ Ellie laughed. ‘Well, I shouldn’t be back too late, but don’t wait up for me. You’re probably on the early shift tomorrow.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. Another day in the warren. It’s been lovely having some time off.’
They said their goodbyes and Ellie watched as Catherine crossed the road, heading for the bus stop on Haymarket.
Ellie turned away, heading along Whitcomb Street to Trafalgar, then branching off onto the Strand.
At the corner of Villiers Street she paused, tugging her gloves back on.
The grocer’s lay up ahead; there was time for a quick follow-up on the matter of the stolen ration book before she caught a taxi to her parents’ house for dinner.
The case, when she got there, turned out to be a misunderstanding: a customer with the same surname had already collected their coupons, and tempers had flared.
Ellie smoothed things over in a few minutes, offering calm words and a reassuring smile.
Nothing dramatic, but it was still part of the job.
As she stepped back out onto the street, she glanced up at early-evening sky.
The sun had vanished behind a wall of grey cloud.
The barrage balloons swayed and bobbed, blending into the murk; steadfast bastions of the city.
Tonight, like every night now, London would find out if it was still standing come morning.