The sojourn in Paris was just for a few hours, enough time for a final meeting with Brian Huntley, lunch, another check of her papers, and another briefing with an expert on the “German situation” and what she could expect when she presented her papers at the Nazi Party headquarters. She was cautioned regarding her available time in Munich, and instructed to conduct herself with care—only a little sightseeing. She might take a book with her, sit in a park, act as if she were the anxious daughter of a man about to be released following years of incarceration.
Given that the house the Secret Service used in Paris was part of Maurice Blanche’s estate, and therefore now part of Maisie’s property portfolio, she felt more on a par with Huntley. But she could not escape the memories of her first visit, when Huntley—then reporting to Maurice Blanche—had brought her there, after following her during her work on a case. The investigation had revealed many things, not least the intelligence work Priscilla’s brother was engaged in during the war, before his death. Maisie had also discovered the truth about her beloved mentor’s subterfuge in his recruitment of intelligence agents, and how he had effectively used her to gain information without her knowledge. The information had led her to feel responsible for Peter Evernden’s death. That she had not been taken into Maurice’s confidence earlier had pained her for a long time, though in time she came to understand his motives.
Now she was here with Huntley again—but this time, she was the agent.
“There is nothing more to say to you, Maisie. You have done well in your training, and you are prepared for as many eventualities as we could imagine. Your past—your training with Maurice, and your subsequent work—will stand you in good stead. This task should be straightforward, but it has to be said—if some aspect does not go according to plan, you must do all you can to save yourself. We have other people in Germany—in Munich, especially—who might be drafted in to help you, but this operation has thus far been conducted in circumstances of extreme confidence. Given the agreement leading to the release of Leon Donat, only a few have been brought into the circle, as I am sure you understand.”
“Yes, I understand. For diplomatic purposes, if this goes wrong, I don’t exist.”
“That’s the measure of it.”
There was an awkward pause. It seemed Huntley did not know what to say next. Maisie came to her feet and held out her hand. “You were held in high esteem by Maurice, Mr. Huntley. I have every confidence in your planning and the preparation you’ve . . . subjected me to.” She smiled. “Now I must leave.” She picked up her coat and walked to the door, whereupon she turned back. “And you know that, should this plan not proceed as we hoped, Mr. Klein has my will and all instructions pertaining to this property, should they be required.”
Huntley inclined his head to signal his understanding, but added, “Oh, we don’t expect the Secret Service to be bothering Mr. Klein, Maisie. You’ll be back soon enough.”
CHAPTER 6
A driver took Maisie to the Gare de l’Est to board the evening express train to Munich, leaving at 10:40 via Strasbourg and Stuttgart, where she would transfer from the wagons-lits—the sleeping cars did not go farther than the terminus at Stuttgart—to a first-class carriage. She made her way along the train, accompanied by a porter, until they reached the wagon-lit where her sleeping quarters were situated. She gave instructions that she was not to be disturbed until just before arrival in Stuttgart, when she would like coffee and a croissant served in her berth. She did not want to see anyone, or anyone to see her. She wanted only to sit and think, and—perhaps—to sleep.