Maisie shook her head. “No. He told me I had to wait until tomorrow, due to administration, or something like that.” She hated herself for sounding so absentminded. She had been distracted by the entrance of the Führer, she realized—and she wasn’t the only one. The two officers had appeared intimidated at the arrival of their leader. “I won’t be seeing the same officer—he’s embarking on a journey with the Führer, or so he said.”
Leslie shook his head. “I’ll have the time for your next meeting confirmed through official consular channels. Not to worry—it’s just like these people to make us run around a bit. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
“Thank you,” said Maisie.
Nothing was said during the short journey back to the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten, but just before the motor car cruised to a stop alongside the hotel, Leslie turned to Maisie.
“Look, Miss Donat, if you want to do something interesting this afternoon, pay a visit to the Residenz. It’s worth looking at and might take your mind off things. I am sure everything will be all right—this has all been approved at the highest level, and the Germans aren’t going to pull out now. It’s just the boys in uniforms throwing a bit of weight around. Your father will be out tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”
“I wish I felt as confident as you, Mr. Leslie, really I do. But I will wait to hear from you—and yes, I will go to the Residenz. It’s just along the road, so not exactly an expedition. Thank you.”
Maisie stepped out of the motor car and watched as it moved away from the curb, out into the light midday traffic. She turned just in time to see another motor car, a taxicab, pull up behind Leslie’s vehicle. Mark Scott was following the man from the British consulate. She stood for a moment wondering why the American was following Leslie. Or was he? Perhaps he’d simply tailed them back to the hotel, seen her step from the motor car, and now his work was done. She sighed, but the sighting remained on her mind, nagging her. It was almost a physical feeling, as if a friend kept nudging an elbow into her side to draw her attention to something. She could not brush the insistent jab away.
Maisie had never been one to play the tourist. She preferred to merge with the locals, if she could, not to draw attention to herself with a camera, notebook, or sketching paper, though she might have a map in her bag. In the cities she’d visited since leaving England almost four years earlier, she would wander the streets, slipping along little-used paths and byways, stopping for a drink or a bite to eat at a place where only those who lived in the area might linger. It was as if she were walking into the vanishing point, a place where she might never be seen or found again.
But since arriving in Munich, Maisie understood that there was a division between her perception of the situation and the reality of life in the Bavarian town. Fine clothing was still sold to fashionable women, men visited their tailors, people rushed to and from work and school, men and women drank in the bars and clubs, stumbling out in the early hours. As she wandered the halls of the Residenz, the grand home of Bavarian aristocracy for almost five centuries until the end of the war, in 1918, these thoughts brought Maisie back to Elaine Otterburn. She had another day at her disposal. Perhaps she would visit one more time, make one final plea for Elaine to return home. She was considering what tack she might take when she heard someone approach, the snap of steel-capped heels echoing in the chambers around her. She almost did not respond to her adopted name.
“Fr?ulein Donat.”
She turned around. “Oh, forgive me—I was so taken with the magnificence all around me, I was not paying attention.”
The officer who had interviewed her at the Nazi headquarters gave a short bow. “I completely understand. To be here in this place is to be transported, is it not?”
Maisie smiled. She felt the clamminess of fear slick against her skin. “Is this your lunchtime, sir?” Had she been told his name? She tried to remember. “I’m so sorry, but I think the worry of the past few days has caught up with me—it’s the waiting to see my father. Forgive me, but I cannot remember your name.”
“That is because I never told you, Miss Donat. My name is Hans Berger. I have a military title that is almost impossible for an Englishwoman to pronounce correctly, but it means I am a major, though I am at the moment assigned to administration at the Führer’s headquarters. I am honored to be of service.”
“Yes, I would imagine so. Very fortunate to be chosen for the job of liaison with other consulates.”
“Oh, that is not quite what I do, but in your case, it may seem so.”
Maisie looked at her watch. “I want to see as much as I can before I leave Munich. I plan to do some shopping this afternoon—a few souvenirs to take home, I think.”
“Come, let us look together—there is much to tell about the Residenz. Being here clears my mind for the rest of the day, so I come often. A few moments amid such beauty, and I am refreshed.”