The Deadly Embrace by Robert J. Mrazek

Author:Robert J. Mrazek [Mrazek, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Suspense, Americans, History, Historical, War & Military, Police Procedural, Thrillers, London (England), World War; 1939-1945, Conspiracies, Women soldiers, Mistresses, War stories; American
ISBN: 9780143038375
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 2007-03-26T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

Taggart was forced to stand in the driving rain outside the Admiralty Building while a South African military policeman personally checked the identification papers of every person seeking entrance. As each minute passed, the crowd became louder and more belligerent. A man in a bowler hat suddenly began shouting that his Member of Parliament would soon hear about it.

Taggart was already fifteen minutes late for his appointment with Helen Bellayne when he finally passed through the checkpoint. Inside, an English military policeman informed him that, thanks to a continuing power outage, the elevators weren’t working.

Still favoring his sprained ankle, Taggart joined the herd of people slowly making their way up the stairs. The bombing raid had caused jagged chunks of plaster to shake loose from the ceiling of the stairwell, and several times he was forced to dodge falling debris while making the long climb to the seventh floor. He paused for a minute outside her office to regain his breath before stepping inside.

“I have an appointment with Mrs. Bellayne,” he huffed to the wizened navy petty officer manning the front desk.

“I’m sorry, Major, but she never came in this morning,” he said. “I believe her street took several hits in the raid last night.”

“Shit,” said Taggart, fuming at his useless odyssey.

“Try to keep a stiff upper lip, sir,” said the petty officer. “I’m sure she’s safe.”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Taggart.

As he trudged back down the stairwell, echoing in his ears were Drummond’s words after the old inspector had interviewed Helen Bellayne himself: “I had the strong impression she was hiding something,” he had said.

Taggart needed to find out what it was and why. By the time he got back down to the lobby of the Admiralty Building, he had decided to go straight to her home. After calling the inspector’s office to get her address, he hailed a taxi and gave it to the driver.

“A posh one, that is,” the driver said, before heading out into the inevitable crush of military traffic.

The war-ravaged city was at its most gray and dismal as Taggart watched people digging out from the previous night’s raid through the grimy side window. Twenty minutes later, the taxi pulled up short in front of a bomb crater in the middle of a residential street in Belgravia.

“The place you want is up along there,” the driver said, pointing farther up the lane. “It looks like they took a real pasting last night. Sorry, but I can’t get you no closer.”

Taggart paid him off and went ahead on foot in the driving rain. Beyond the bomb crater, there were magnificent brick mansions on both sides of the avenue, relics of the golden eras of the British Empire.

Farther up the street, relief workers were sifting through what remained of one of them. Taggart smelled the sour odor of smoldering wood and rain-soaked plaster. As he walked by, several men were vainly trying to pry up a massive support timber from the largest section of rubble.

“I think there’s someone still alive down here,” screamed one of them with a voice like a macaw.

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