“I think I would.” She sighed, and resumed reading through Huntley’s notes before looking up. “The situation has not been helped by Donat’s competitors here at home, who’ve been rubbing their hands with glee, believing that with him out of the way, they could move in on his business. I can see here that thus far it hasn’t happened, given that his staff are working doubly hard in his absence.” She placed the papers back on the table. “But according to what you said yesterday, an agreement has been reached with the Nazi authorities.”
“Herr Hitler feels like being friends with us, and we’re taking advantage of the situation. Though we realize it is the preamble to more aggressive action on his part—buttering us up before the fray with this and other measures—we cannot allow this opportunity to slip through our fingers.”
“Gentlemen.” Maisie looked from Huntley to MacFarlane. “You gave me a brief summation of the role you envisage for me yesterday, so perhaps you would be so kind as to fill in a few gaps.”
Huntley nodded toward the envelope with her name on it. “There, Maisie, are your marching orders. It appears the German authorities have gone soft on us, and instead of a member of our diplomatic staff, Mr. Donat must be released into the care of a family member. We’re not sure what has brought on this little element of cozy-cozy, but it stands. We suspect they believe a family member is not available. And to some extent, they would be correct. Donat’s wife is dead—as you know—but he has a daughter. A daughter whom he adores, not least because she was strikingly like her mother, and—”
“Was?” Maisie met Huntley’s eyes.
“Sadly, she no longer bears a resemblance to her former self. She suffers from consumption contracted overseas, and is ensconced in a fever hospital in Kent. Fortunately, because she rather lived in the shadows—Edwina was not an outgoing person and had not married—it is not widely known. She had been in a convalescent home in Bexhill-on-Sea before being brought to the hospital. I think it is fair to say she is failing—the illness seems to have taken her in a very aggressive manner, and it’s likely her days are numbered. She was never a social butterfly, and suffered from melancholia following the death of her fiancé in the war—her lack of exposure, so to speak, serves us well.”
Maisie nodded, staring out the window toward the Cenotaph. She turned her attention back to Huntley and MacFarlane. “And now you want me to assume the identity of Miss Donat, so that a family member might receive the prisoner when he is released.”
“A new passport bearing the name Edwina Donat has been prepared for you, and the necessary documents are in the envelope. We understand you would not wish to travel via aeroplane, so all transportation will be by train—though if you could change your mind and return by air, we would all breathe a sigh of relief.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Maisie.
“Yes—Robbie predicted your response with some accuracy.” Huntley referred to his papers once again. “A representative from the diplomatic service will meet you—he is a member of the consul general’s staff. I should add that the consulate is not privy to the exact reason for this prisoner’s importance.”
“Hmmph!” MacFarlane folded his arms. “Never mind Smallbones—should be Small Brains!”
Maisie looked from MacFarlane to Huntley.
“Our dear friend here,” said Huntley, “is referring to our consul general, Robert Townsend Smallbones. Smallbones believes the German people to be very honorable, and has stated that they are kind to animals, children, and the aged and infirm. Thus he concludes that they have no cruelty in their makeup.”
“Well, as far as the bloody Führer is concerned, he concludes wrong,” added MacFarlane.
“A fairly accurate response, I will concede, though we are fortunate in that you are not the only one holding that opinion; others see good reason to doubt the integrity of the chancellor.”
“So there will be no brass to meet me, no one of importance, just a diplomatic services junior? That’s good.”
“But he’s one of ours, Maisie.” Huntley handed Maisie another sheet of paper. “Gilbert Leslie. Formerly of Military Intelligence—not at a high level, but he’s nobody’s fool. On the face of it, he’s now pushing paper and dealing with tourists who’ve lost their passports, or who want to make a complaint against Germany because they have been required to perform a Nazi salute whenever they see a member of Hitler’s army. He will not be briefed any more than he needs to be—as far as he knows, you are Edwina Donat.”
“All right, let’s imagine I am with Mr. Leslie, and we go to take possession of Leon Donat. What if Donat says, ‘Who in God’s name are you?’”
“Act, Maisie—you must act. This entire operation is dependent upon it. You must approach him with speed and assure him of your identity. Our guess is that, no matter who you appear to be, he will be only too glad to remove himself from the prison in Dachau.”
“And then? Assuming I have Donat under my wing.”
“Leslie will accompany you directly to the railway station, where you will travel via express to Paris. Once you cross the German border, we will consider you in fairly safe territory.”
There was silence in the room until Maisie spoke again.