Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
O ne morning, after Lizzie had settled down to work on the latest pile of documents awaiting her on her desk, her boss, Mr Drake, interrupted her.
They exchanged pleasantries, and Lizzie looked at him expectantly as he hovered. ‘May I help you with something specific?’
‘Well, actually, yes. This might all seem a bit cloak and dagger, and honestly, I wouldn’t involve you if it wasn’t an absolute emergency.’
His strange statement piqued Lizzie’s curiosity. The work she’d been doing wasn’t exactly cloak and dagger. The documents and messages she translated were all of a straightforward administrative nature.
‘We’ve all been very impressed by the quality of your work and your dedication, Lizzie.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. A warm glow spread through her, and a delicate blush stole over her pale cheeks.
It was nice to be appreciated.
Her boss lowered his voice. ‘Tell me if I’m off base, but I get the feeling you would be willing to contribute to the war effort in a somewhat bigger way.’
Lizzie looked at him, trying to comprehend what he was hinting at. Eventually, when he didn’t fill the awkward pause, she ventured, ‘Of course, I’m willing to help however I can. What did you have in mind, exactly, sir?’
‘Jolly good. Grab your jacket and come with me. I told you there’s no need to call me sir,’ he said, flashing her a smile. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. I can’t say any more now, but he will bring you up to speed.’
Lizzie stood to retrieve her jacket and her boss held it out as she slipped it on.
The red-headed young woman in uniform, who was a dedicated driver of the War Office, sprung to attention as they exited the building. She swiftly brought a car around, and within minutes, they were navigating the thick web of morning traffic.
Lizzie wondered where they were going. Mr Drake buried his head in some papers, and she sat quietly, watching the scenes of wartime London pass by in a blur.
Being driven around was a luxury—these days she travelled mostly by bus or the Underground. Her days of cycling along the Jersey coast were over—for now, at least. Petrol rationing was fierce, and private cars were requisitioned for the war effort. Her father had a driver for work, but not for the family’s personal use, much to Juliet’s disappointment.
They passed Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, which seemed to float on the River Thames, the stone glinting in the pale sunshine. The sheer majesty of the ancient royal palace still awed Lizzie.
The car weaved through Westminster before taking a sharp turn down a narrow road and coming to a stop outside a block of flats in a quiet residential neighbourhood .
Her boss’s head jerked up. ‘Ah, here we are already.’ He beckoned Lizzie to follow him as he disappeared into a dimly lit stairwell. ‘Go carefully,’ he called over his shoulder.
She heard a doorbell ring twice, and when she reached her boss’s side, the door opened a crack to reveal a pair of dark eyes that scanned them from top-to-toe.
‘Drake, I wasn’t expecting you yet,’ said a deep, authoritative voice.
‘Yes, we’re a tad early. Can’t be helped, I’m afraid. I have another meeting nearby. I’ll have to leave you two to get on with it without me.’
The tall man in the shadows opened the door wider and stood aside to let them enter.
‘Jack, this is Ms Beaumont. She’s the sharpest translator in the office.’
Drake turned to Lizzie. ‘This is Jack King. His bark is far worse than his bite, so don’t let him fool you into believing he’s some kind of ogre. Jack will fill you in on the nature of the role I mentioned. I must go now, but I should be back in thirty minutes or so. Wait for me here and we’ll drive back to the office together.’
Jack snapped at Drake, ‘We need more than an office girl. Please tell me you’re joking.’
His blunt tone stung Lizzie like a slap.
‘Ms Beaumont is the best we have available for you. We are stretched every which way.’
Jack glowered at them both, and Lizzie wished she hadn’t been so quick to agree to accompany her boss.
Drake cast an apologetic glance at Lizzie and shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’re in a sticky spot and Jack asked for my help urgently. Although, one might expect him to be a bit more gracious in the circumstances,’ he said, eyeing Jack. The reprimand was clear .
Lizzie examined her boss’s face, wondering what the heck was going on. Why was he leaving her alone with this disagreeable character who clearly didn’t want her here?
Jack King sighed. ‘Thank you, Drake.’
‘Play nicely, you two,’ Drake said, and then he let himself out.
Jack didn’t so much as crack a smile, but jerked his head toward the dark hallway and took off. Lizzie walked briskly after him, trying to keep up with his forceful strides. He came to an abrupt stop, threw a door open and ushered her inside.
The morning light seeped in through the dusty blinds and she saw he was a well-built man, with striking dark good looks, despite his grumpy manner. Ordinarily she might even have been smitten, but the scowl on his face cured her of any danger of that immediately.
‘Sit down,’ he said, nodding at a chair. ‘I won’t keep you long. It’s good of you to volunteer, but as I said, we don’t need an office girl—what we need is an experienced operator who can hit the ground running as a courier in occupied France.’
Lizzie didn’t move toward the chair. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘No, believe me, you’re not the only one.’ He laughed, but it was a humourless sound more like a bark.
She took a shaky breath and drew herself up to her full height. ‘It seems you have the wrong end of the stick, Mr King. You are mistaken in thinking I volunteered for this role. I was asked to meet with you urgently by my boss, and that is the only reason I am here.’
One of Jack’s dark eyebrows shot up like an arrow, and his tanned forehead creased into telling lines of displeasure. ‘That’s all well and good, but that doesn’t mean you are suited for undercover war work. We’re not playing at espionage here, you know—Ms Beaumont—is it? This is a serious business, and you could get yourself killed. You could get our people in the field killed, for that matter.’
A rush of violent rebellion surged through Lizzie as she looked at his impudent face. She raised her chin and faced him head-on, her green eyes clashing with his black ones.
‘So, what is it you would have me do for the war effort, exactly, Mr King—darn your socks and bring you tea on the hour?’
Seconds felt like minutes as they stared at each other, neither of them blinking nor backing down. Lizzie’s head pounded.
She knew she had been rude—probably to a senior government official—but he deserved it.
Jack let out another humourless bark. ‘Ha! Tempting as that is, that’s not what I had in mind.’ His voice rang with sarcasm as he swept one large hand through his shock of thick raven-black hair.
Lizzie forced her lips to curve into a smile. ‘Good. So, what did you have in mind? Would you prefer I refuse to help, even though my boss summoned me here?’
Jack beckoned towards the chair again and dragged it closer to Lizzie. She followed his cue and perched on the end, her knees touching primly.
He sat down heavily in the chair opposite and released a deep sigh.
‘Call me Jack, for God’s sake. What did you say to call you?’
‘Elizabeth. You may call me Elizabeth.’
Lizzie was for people she was on good terms with, and this man was clearly not going to be one of them. She hadn’t encountered anyone with such a cavalier manner before, and she wasn’t going to let him off lightly, no matter how important he thought himself.
‘We obviously got off on the wrong foot,’ he said, throwing her a conciliatory look. ‘Forgive me if I was rude, Elizabeth, but this is a critical situation.’ He enunciated every syllable of her name. ‘You can’t possibly know what’s at stake here.’
Lizzie squared her slim shoulders and glared at him.
‘Why don’t you spell it out for me, Mr King—Jack?’ she said.
Her parents said she was headstrong when riled, and they were right.
Jack shook his head as if amused by a private joke. ‘I was trying to assess whether you knew what you’d be getting yourself into by working with us.’
Lizzie’s silence appeared to unnerve him, and he bowed his head as if searching for answers on the scarred surface of the table.
‘Insulting your candidates seems to me rather an odd way of assessing their suitability,’ Lizzie replied after a brief pause. Her heart was racing, but she could not hold her tongue. ‘I don’t even know why I was asked to meet with you, so how could I possibly know what I’m getting myself into?’
Jack waited a beat, and said, ‘Look, fair point. I appreciate you coming here today, but you’re not what we’re looking for, so… This time it’s a no. If you’re keen to join our ranks, I recommend you do some intensive training. Drake can organise that for you, and if you pass the tests and still want to be involved, come back in a few months and I’ll see what I can do.’
Lizzie stared at him. For once, she was completely lost for words.
Jack rose from his chair. ‘See yourself out. Or you can wait by the front door if you prefer. I’m tight for time. Best of luck in your endeavours, Elizabeth Beauford.’
‘Beaumont,’ she snapped back at him.
And with that, he dismissed her, and flew out of the room, his black hair sticking up like the devil himself.