The man lifted a large metal stamp and brought it down four times, once on each document. The resounding thumps reverberated across the desk.
“You will have to wait, Fr?ulein Donat. Present yourself here on—” He flicked a daily calendar on his desk. “Present yourself here the day after tomorrow, on March the tenth. At the same time. Ten o’clock. You will be given papers, and you must go straight to Dachau to take possession of your father. Your consulate must provide transport to Dachau and then to the station, and your departure from Munich will be immediate. Is that clear?”
“Yes, that is perfectly clear, sir.”
“And what will you do in our fine city? You have almost two days to enjoy our hospitality.”
“Mr. Leslie, from the consulate, has told me that I should not miss the Residenz, and I would also like to visit a few museums. However, as you can imagine, I am very anxious to see my father, so it will be hard to concentrate on other things.”
The man placed his knuckles on the desk, pushed back his chair, and stood up. He was not as old as Maisie had first thought, perhaps in his mid-thirties, his black hair oiled and combed back. As he held out his hand to her, she noticed how unlined it was—the hand of someone who had been coddled, who was not a worker. His nails were manicured, and when their fingers touched, she thought it was almost like touching the hand of another woman. There was something about that softness that gave her pause. She wondered if his heart had hardened in compensation.
CHAPTER 7
Leslie was waiting outside, along the street well away from the guard, who appeared to have been keeping an eye on him, looking over his shoulder as he marched back and forth. The man came to attention and gave a short bow as Maisie passed, inclining her head in acknowledgment. Leslie joined her, though they did not speak until they had turned the corner, beginning their walk back along the route they had taken to the Nazi headquarters.
“What did they say?” asked Leslie. “Did they give you a day to claim your father?”
Maisie smarted at the word claim. It was as if Leon Donat were a coat discarded as one entered the theater, left with the girl who waited at the cloakroom. Perhaps she should expect to press a few pfennigs into the hand of each guard when she reached Dachau, a thank-you for taking care of the man she would call “Papa” until they reached the seclusion of the train to Paris.
“They said the papers would be ready on Thursday, and they bid me an enjoyable time in Munich.”
“Longer to wait than I hoped. And not good.”
“Why?” asked Maisie. “It seems we expected a delay of a day at least—that some sort of game-playing might be on the cards.”
Leslie clapped his hands together as if to beat the cold from his fingertips. “Yes, we did—but I had hoped for it to be quicker, especially now.”
“What’s happened? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure, though I believe I’ll find out when I get back to the consulate. There was a bit of a buzz as I left, and I heard someone mention Austria. I think something new has come up with Austria, and you never know with this lot—they might have all sorts of clampdowns just because something has happened somewhere else. That maniac Hitler—you’ve no idea where you stand, and it’s not as if we haven’t been expecting trouble across the border. With any country neighboring Germany, in fact—we’re very concerned about Czechoslovakia, and Poland.”
Maisie said nothing. She wanted only to reach the next hill she had to climb, complete the ascent, and go home. She had been reflecting upon the circumstances of her recruitment for this mission. What had made her agree? Was it the need to be useful? To do something of worth? She could have said no, and now she was wishing she had. This was not her work. She was an investigator, a private inquiry agent. Yes, she had proved herself in other areas, and Maurice clearly thought she might—in fact, should—be called to service if Huntley saw fit. But now she realized that if she were to work again, it would be her own work. When this assignment was complete, when she had discharged her duties, she would give more thought to what she would do next.
“Miss Donat?”
“I’m sorry—I was miles away. Did you ask me a question?”
“Yes—I just asked if you would like company during the next day or so. What would you like to do in Munich? Despite all appearances, it is a very colorful city, and of course Bavaria is quite lovely.”
“I think I will consult my Baedeker, perhaps go for a walk in the English Gardens, visit the Residenz, and then spend most of my time at the hotel. And please don’t worry—I can manage on my own from now on.”
“I will of course accompany you again to Nazi headquarters to obtain the papers, and then we can go to Dachau from there. I’ll have a consular motor car ready for us to proceed directly to the station.”
“All right. Then telephone me at the hotel tomorrow evening.”