Free Journey to Munich by Jacqueline Winspear Page B

chandelier hung over the table. As she entered the room, two things struck her: the smell of lavender and beeswax, as if copious amounts of the polish were used every day on the long table and sturdy chairs, and a woman standing by the window, looking out across the gardens. The woman turned as Maisie closed the door behind her.
    â€œOh, my goodness,” said Maisie.
    Dr. Francesca Thomas stepped toward Maisie. “Dear me, we’re failing you if you’ve managed to forget to speak in German at the first shock of the day!”
    Maisie had met Francesca Thomas several years earlier, during her first assignment for Huntley. MacFarlane was still with Special Branch at the time, but it was to him that she reported on her work at a college in Cambridge, where there was a suspicion that subversive activities against the Crown were taking place. Maisie had taken on an academic appointment in an undercover capacity. In time she realized that Dr. Francesca Thomas was also working in a clandestine role, but for theBelgian government. Later Maisie learned that Thomas was a woman of great bravery, having been a member of La Dame Blanche—a resistance network of mainly women engaged in intelligence activities, including surveillance and sabotage against their German occupiers. It was Thomas who had warned Maisie that having worked on behalf of the British Secret Service, she would never be free.
    Thomas reached out and placed her hands on Maisie’s shoulders, as if to inspect her. “You’ve weathered some storms, Maisie.”
    â€œNo more than you, Dr. Thomas.”
    â€œFrancesca, please. And in a break with the formality established since your arrival, you will not be required to converse in German during this meeting.”
    â€œJust as I was getting used to it,” said Maisie.
    Thomas smiled as she pulled out a chair at the head of the table and held out her hand to indicate that Maisie should sit next to her. Opening a file on the table in front of her, she explained her presence at the manor house.
    â€œYou are now aware that not only do I work on behalf of my own country, but also Britain—in the interests of Belgium, you understand. Mr. Huntley thought it would be a good idea for me to have some involvement in preparing you for your assignment.” Thomas took a deep breath. “I think he believes another woman’s perspective might help you feel more at ease.”
    Maisie had opened her mouth to inform Thomas that she felt quite at ease when the other woman raised her hand.
    â€œAnd anyone who says she is perfectly all right as she prepares for such an expedition is, my dear, not facing the truth of the matter. There’s no need to feel you must put me at ease—a healthy dose of doubt may well keep you safe. Now, to work. We’re going to look at Leon Donat.”
    â€œI’ve already been briefed on Mr. Donat—I’ve read his dossier a dozen times. In fact, I can tell you what he might have for dinner on a day like today.”
    â€œAnd that is?”
    â€œLiver and bacon, mashed potato, gravy, and cabbage. Steamed apple pudding for afters, then some cheese and biscuits with a glass of port. He never takes a first course, and goes straight to the main.”
    â€œGood work.” Thomas pulled out a collection of photographs from an envelope. “This is a little different.”
    Francesca Thomas laid out five photographs of Leon Donat—some formal, at an event; some informal, probably taken at the family home. One by one, Thomas asked Maisie to study each photograph and point out aspects of Donat’s physiognomy she’d noticed, or the way he stood, folded his arms, or clasped the ring on the third finger of his left hand.
    â€œGood. Now then, look at this photograph.”
    Maisie picked up the print Thomas pushed toward her.
    â€œWhat do you see?” asked Thomas.
    Maisie studied every aspect of the man whose eyes seemed to