“Fr?ulein Donat?”
Maisie stood up, giving a half smile to acknowledge the officer. He smiled in return.
“Come with me.”
Leslie stood up to follow.
“Not you. Only Fr?ulein Donat.”
Leslie sat down again. Maisie followed the officer up the staircase and along a corridor to a spacious but unembellished office, with a window looking out onto the street.
When Maisie entered, another officer of the Schutzstaffel was rocking back and forth on a chair behind a broad desk of dark wood. He did not look up, but continued rocking while flipping through sheets of paper until Maisie was standing in front of him. He allowed his chair to rock forward, the legs meeting the floor with an audible thump, and then stood up and held out his hand, inviting Maisie to take the seat opposite him. The officer who had accompanied Maisie pulled out the chair, waiting for her to be seated before taking up a place behind the man who would be conducting the interview, who was now inspecting her papers.
“Fr?ulein Donat.”
“Yes.” Maisie nodded.
The officer looked at her, then at her passport. He shrugged. “You have no brothers or sisters?”
Maisie shook her head. “No. And now my mother is dead, there is only my father and myself.”
“You are aware of why he was arrested?”
“I have been given details, yes.”
“And what do you say to that? Your father was accused of proliferating literature disrespectful to the Führer.”
Maisie chewed her lip. She had gone through all the questions that would be asked. Time and again, at the house in the Cotswolds, she had been subjected to mock interviews designed to mirror what might be put to her in Munich. Almost every scenario had been anticipated, her answers commented upon and edited each time.
“I found it most hard to believe,” said Maisie. “My father wanted only to represent the academic books and the professors who write for his company.”
“He wanted to sell British books to German students?”
“In the fields that my father’s company publishes—mathematics, physics, chemistry, and so on—British students read many German authors. Those scientists respect each other, so the books my father’s company publishes are read by students in many other countries.”
The officer nodded, as if she had passed a test. “Then why do you think he was involved in publishing subversive literature?”
Maisie appeared to give thought to the question, looking pained. “My father has always believed that we must be . . . that we must be . . . a support, I suppose you could say, to young people. It is my belief that my father might have been duped. He would never have knowingly supported any political activism. That was never his desire. He wants only to see students rise to the top, wherever they are and whichever country they come from.”
“Laudable, I am sure.” The man sighed, picked up her passport again, and looked from Maisie to the photograph. His eyes lingered on her, his stare focusing on her eyes, her mouth, her hair, then down to her shoulders. She did not flinch.
“Your father knows important people,” he said.
Maisie felt a bead of sweat trickle under the wig. She reached up and brushed her hand across her forehead.
“My father has crossed paths with many important people—mainly scientists who author the books his company publishes. Through that work he has met others. He has found that people of a certain status are always interested in new discoveries.” She clasped her hands. Surely these matters had all been addressed during the negotiations with the British government. But Huntley had warned her. They will toy with you—and we have to prepare you for that eventuality.
“Indeed,” said the officer. His English was perfect. “Do you have a religion, Fr?ulein Donat?”
Maisie smiled and shook her head. “My father is not a religious man, sir. He is a man of science. My mother liked to go to church at Christmas, Easter, and for christenings and weddings. So no, I do not have a religion. It was never our way.”
The man nodded and crooked a finger toward the officer who had brought her into his office. There was some muttering between them.
“The release of your father has been agreed between the Führer and your government. It remains only for me to ask a few questions and to confirm your identity.” He held out the passport and dropped it on the desk before her.
Maisie reached for the passport and placed it in her bag. She could barely conceal a sigh of relief. “I am anxious to see my father, sir.”