“Tell me you’re really leaving soon, Fr?ulein D, and this isn’t another ruse of yours. You shouldn’t remain in Munich.”
“You can call me Maisie now. And yes, I really am departing in just three hours, on the Deutsche Lufthansa flight to Rome. I’ll stay there for a few days and then return home. Even if it wouldn’t be a good idea for copper-haired Edwina Donat to visit a country loyal to Herr Hitler, I thought Mrs. Compton could get away with it for a little sojourn.”
“You’ve done your bit, Maisie.”
“Have I?”
Scott nodded. “Leon Donat is now back in—what do you call it? Blighty? And Miss Otterburn is at this very moment in Paris. Enjoying herself, it has to be said. However, I have it on authority that she will not be staying long.”
“I won’t ask how you know that.”
Scott seemed to brush off the comment. “Need a ride to the airport?”
“At this stage in the proceedings, I won’t turn you down.”
“Let’s grab a bite to eat before you leave, then.”
“All right—as long as it’s on me, Mr. Scott.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Later, Mark Scott shook Maisie’s hand while the motor car idled against the curb at the Munich airport.
“Thank you once again for your help, Mr. Scott.”
“I hope we meet again, your ladyship.”
“Perhaps we will.” She looked up at the sky as two Luftwaffe Messerschmitt aircraft flew overhead. “It’s going to get far worse, I know.”
“You can count on it.”
Maisie nodded. “Take care, Mark.”
“Is that all I get for my trouble? A handshake?”
She smiled, stood on tiptoe, and kissed Scott on the cheek.
“Well, that shows promise, Fr?ulein D. Maybe I’ll look you up when I’m in London.”
Maisie smiled. “Good-bye, Mr. Scott.” She picked up her suitcase and turned to walk into the airport building.
“One more thing, Maisie,” Scott called after her.
She looked back toward him. “Yes?”
“Happy landings.”
She felt herself stand taller as she continued toward the airport building.
CHAPTER 19
“Well, I must say, it’s nice for some—getting a little holiday in before gracing us with your presence, Maisie.” MacFarlane was waiting at the bottom of the aircraft steps at Croydon Aerodrome. “They tell me Rome is very pleasant at this time of year, if you’ve the time and the money, and you seem to have enjoyed a few diversions on the way home.”
“If you’re going to comment on my travel plans, I hope you’ve brought a motor car to take me into London and a taxi for yourself.”
“Got a destination in mind, your ladyship?”
“Oh, cut it out, MacFarlane!” Maisie smiled. “I’d like to go to Holland Park—Mrs. Partridge’s home, if that’s all right with you. You know very well where it is.”
As the motor car threaded its way from Surrey into London, Robert MacFarlane reported on Leon Donat. “He’s going to be in hospital for another week or so, and then to his house in the country, where he’ll have a nurse to keep an eye on him, and a couple of men posted for reasons of security. The good news is that he’s all right upstairs.” MacFarlane pointed to his forehead. “And he’s already at his drawing board, even though he’s in hospital—had it brought in, he did. I can’t say more than that, but the man has proved to be worth his weight in gold. Or at least a good eighteen-year-old malt whiskey.”
“I’m glad.” She paused and shook her head. “I thought I would never be able to get him out.”
“I know, lass—but you did a fine job.”
Maisie shrugged. “I made mistakes.”
“We all make mistakes, Maisie. We just hope no one dies.”
“Ah, and there’s the thing. People have died and will die.” She paused, shaking her head. “I—I had to make a quick decision, and I believe I caused someone to endure a tortured death in Dachau.”
“No, Maisie—only a few have found their way out of that place. I would lay money on the fact that the man would have died anyway. You did what you had to do, and you did your best.” He looked out of the window, and they rode on in silence. MacFarlane spoke only when they arrived in Holland Park. “Here we are. That friend of yours will be on the threshold pushing the housekeeper out of the way any minute now.”
Maisie laughed. “She probably will.”
“Couple of small things, lass. A motor car will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up at ten—debriefing with Huntley and all that sort of thing. You know the form.”
She nodded, and as the driver opened the passenger door for her to alight, MacFarlane spoke again.
“And before you toddle off, I think you’ve forgotten something, lass.”
Maisie looked back. “Oh, yes.” She reached into her bag and brought out the revolver. “It’s clean as a whistle, and I’ve kept it safe for you.” She handed it to MacFarlane.
He inspected the weapon. “You never used it.”
“Never had to,” said Maisie.
“Or didn’t want to,” said MacFarlane.