“I scared an American with it.”
“I know,” said MacFarlane. “News travels fast among friends.”
“Maisie! Maisie! Is that you?” a woman called out from the open door of the mansion.
“You’d better get going and put your pal out of her misery. See you tomorrow, Maisie.”
Maisie nodded, climbed out of the motor car, allowed the driver to take her case to the top of the steps, and ran up toward Priscilla.
“My, you’re glad to be home!” said Priscilla as Maisie wrapped her arms around her friend. “I thought you were going to call me from Paris.”
“I went to Rome instead.” She turned and waved to MacFarlane as the motor car drew away, then brought her attention back to Priscilla. “Come on, let’s have a drink, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
She knew her stories of Rome would be a fiction, for she had walked the streets in a daze, trying to banish images of men clad in brown uniforms on the streets of Munich, of a dark and terrifying prison, and of circumstances that seemed to pave the way for horror to rise up and envelop a humbled humanity. She was bound by a promise of secrecy to her country, so she would never discuss her work or what had come to pass during her absence. And when she’d looked at Priscilla, smiling, reaching out to embrace her, she knew she would never tell the mother of sons what she knew to be true of the future.
Maisie telephoned early the following morning to refuse the offer of a motor car to take her to Huntley’s office in Whitehall, preferring to travel on the Underground, and then by bus. She wanted to immerse herself in the feeling of being in her own country again, in a city she loved and knew like the back of her hand. She hadn’t been away long, in the grand scheme of things, but she felt as if her absence had dragged on for months. She experienced a strange disconnect in the fabric of time as she approached her destination. Looking back, it seemed as if she had been in Munich a long time ago.
Once in Brian Huntley’s office, she again chose the seat with a view of the Cenotaph. Huntley and MacFarlane were present for the debriefing, which would last as long as it took to answer a series of questions, to describe everything she had seen during the visit to Dachau, Nazi headquarters, and other places the assignment took her. Photographs were passed back and forth, individuals identified where she could offer a name, until at last Huntley leaned back in his chair.
“I think Robbie has told you we’re very happy with Mr. Donat’s progress, both in terms of his health and the work he is willing to undertake for us.” Huntley cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water before continuing. “There are, of course, problems with manual dexterity and fatigue—he is, after all, not a young man, and has been through a traumatic time—but we have a draughtsman from the Royal Engineers earmarked to work with him, which will be an enormous help. The situation is extremely promising.” He looked directly at Maisie. “Everything you had to do to ensure the safe return of Mr. Donat to Britain was worth it—everything. Even in the early stages of debriefing, you and Mr. Donat have been able to provide us with a wealth of knowledge regarding what is happening in Munich—which of course reflects events in the rest of Germany.”
“Thank you,” said Maisie. “Am I free to leave?”
“What will you do now, Maisie?” asked Robbie MacFarlane.
“I have several things on my list. Now we’re coming into summer, I want to spend time with my father. And I want to see more of Chelstone, and my home there. To be honest, since my husband’s death, I have avoided my in-laws to some extent, and I must put that right. Then we’ll see.”
Huntley and MacFarlane exchanged glances.
“No, gentlemen,” said Maisie. “I can tell you now that I will not be accepting any assignments in the near future, or even the distant future, though I do have what you could call plans of a professional nature.”
“We might at some juncture ask you to reconsider,” said Huntley.
Maisie smiled as she stood up and reached out to shake hands with each man in turn.
“Thank you for your service, Maisie,” said Huntley. “Maurice would have been proud of you.”
“I forgot to ask,” said Maisie. “Do you have news of Mr. Leslie? I should take all responsibility for his return to London—I felt he should accompany Mr. Donat on the aeroplane.”
Huntley smiled. “Yes, so he said. Mr. Leslie will remain in London for a month, and then he is taking up a position in Washington. We feel his experience will serve him well in time—and of course the interests of His Majesty’s government.”
Maisie smiled. “Good. I’m glad.”
“I’ll see you out, lass,” said MacFarlane.