Journey to Munich

by Jacqueline Winspear

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “There has been a stroke of bad luck.”

  Silence.

  “All right. Now it’s I who’ll have to take the chance that this bloody telephone is working as it should.” Maisie heard Brian Huntley’s very audible sigh. “We’ve had to increase our oversight in the past few days. Your hosts are cock-a-hoop about their incursion into Austria, and are becoming rather more ambitious. On the one hand, we can take advantage of their ebullience, and on the other, we have to tread carefully, for the snake is ever more confident about his bite. Is a train out of the question? I was under the impression that you would not fly.”

  “The train offers too many opportunities for us to be intercepted even after it’s under way. I want the two passengers to leave Munich no later than mid-morning tomorrow—the earlier the better, for their safety.”

  “Rather a tall order, Maisie.”

  “Let Mr. Leslie know what you can do—and you might as well put him out of his misery and allow him to know who I am. I am sure he has guessed. After all, Robbie said he was one of yours, so we’re probably passing each other through smoke and mirrors. In the meantime, I might have another option regarding transportation. If so, I will decline your offer, as I have to grasp the very first opportunity to leave Munich. I’ll end the call now.”

  Maisie pressed the cradle bar to end the call. While the receiver was still in her hand. The telephone began to ring. Maisie released the bar, and heard the operator ask if she would like to place another secure telephone call.

  She was surprised, but didn’t hesitate. “Yes, thank you.” She gave the operator a number and heard a click. The tone changed, and she replaced the receiver. After a moment, and the telephone rang once more.

  “Otterburn.” The voice was sharp, to the point, that of a man who had neither time nor patience enough to linger.

  “Mr. Otterburn. I would like your help.”

  “Mais—”

  “Mr. Otterburn, I am calling from within the British consulate in Munich. I have been told the line is secure, but I would not like to bet my life on it. I cannot dance around with words, though; it takes too much time.”

  “Right you are. How can I help?”

  Maisie knew she had his full attention now. “I am in need of private transportation from Munich to London or Paris. I do not want my passengers to travel via Rome, or through any other country where political sympathies lie with the chancellor. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I do not envisage any difficulty with your request.”

  “I’m not quite there yet. One of our number is an invalid, and the other—you may be interested to know—is a young woman to whom you are related.”

  There was a silence on the line. When Otterburn spoke again, his voice was cracking, revealing an emotion Maisie had not expected.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning. As early as you can manage it.”

  “It’s tight, but I can make the arrangements. Where can I reach you?”

  “I’ll reach you. I’ll place a call from a telephone kiosk, just to be on the safe side, but we will have to be quick with our conversation.”

  “Leave it to me. I’ll expect to hear from you in an hour.”

  Maisie ended the call, returned the receiver to its cradle, and put her head in her hands.

  How would she ever do this? How would she persuade Elaine Otterburn to leave before her predicament became more serious? But first, she had to deal with Leslie. She pressed the button alongside the fireplace.

  When Leslie returned to the room, his demeanor had changed. His smile was brief. “I have been on the telephone with Huntley. He has informed me of your position here. I will do all I can to assist you, starting with the documentation. It should be ready by late this afternoon—I will bring it to your hotel.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Leslie.” She stood up and walked to the window, then turned to Leslie. “I appreciate your help, and I must apologize for the necessary secrecy with regard to my presence in Munich. I will be leaving for England as soon as I can, which might well be as early as tomorrow morning. It may be necessary for you to inform Mr. Huntley on my behalf that I have made the required arrangements—one is already in place. In the meantime, I want to make a suggestion—and it’s a personal matter. Mr. Leslie, you cannot remain in this country too much longer. I know I’m repeating myself, but you must ask for a transfer to another consular position. Others might not know how your name was changed by—who? Your father or grandfather? Where I came from, there were Jewish families with names that sounded so English, and I particularly remember a Mr. and Mrs. Leslie—yes, I know, no relation, it’s a common enough name. But I remember being told their real name was Levitsky, and along the way it had been changed—to ‘fit in,’ probably. I would put it to you that if I am correct, you are not as safe as you might believe.” She stepped toward the table, took up her bag, and added, “I could arrange for you to leave tomorrow, if you wish.”

  Leslie pressed the fingers of his right hand to his temple, as if to quell a headache. “I cannot leave my post, Miss Donat. I’m sorry, it’s the only name I have for you, though I know you are not who you first claimed to be. I cannot leave my post and will remain here until I am given another consular position through the appropriate channels.”

  Maisie nodded and held out her hand. “The appropriate channels might not be as fast as you might one day hope. In any case, thank you for your help, Mr. Leslie. I look forward to hearing from you later.”

  John Otterburn was as good as his word. Maisie placed the call from a kiosk at the railway station. As before, Otterburn answered on the first ring.

  “Listen carefully. I am going to give you the name of a small airfield, about a half hour outside Munich. Can you get a driver?”

  “Yes,” said Maisie. “It’s as good as done.”

  “Good. Right. I’ve acquired an aeroplane there. I pulled some strings, which isn’t as difficult as it might seem, as I’m known to buy aircraft as something of a pastime. The problem is, I’ve had to take a chance on those strings. I’m not sure exactly where some of the ends might lead—but like you, I’ve done my best. The important thing is, the aircraft is ours to use. It’s a Messerschmitt Taifun, a few years old, and seats four, including the pilot.” He paused. “Elaine is very familiar with this craft. The flight will be to Zurich. It should take less than two hours—this is a nifty little ship.”

  Maisie felt perspiration bead on her forehead. “Elaine?”

  “She knows what she’s doing. About three years ago, after a German woman named Elly Beinhorn made a flight from Berlin to Constantinople and back in one day, Elaine was convinced she had to have a crack at the same aeroplane. Don’t worry, she’ll get you out of there. My daughter may have made a fool of herself and her family, but in this matter, I trust she’ll do what’s asked of her.”

  “All right.”

  “Now then, let me give you the information you’ll need—and that Elaine will need. All the maps required are already on the aircraft, and she’ll know what to do when she gets there, but she won’t have time to study the route, so you’ll be giving it to her—I’ll read everything out to you. The thing to remember is that you have to get in and get out without delay. Do not linger any longer than necessary. The journey will be less than comfortable for the gentleman, but you’ll be met by my representative in Zurich, and I’ve arranged for a nurse to be on the flight home to Croydon. I can let the necessary authorities know when the aircraft carrying the elderly man will be landing.”

  “I understand.”

  “The thing that you must remember, and that you must ram home to our aviatrix, is that every airfield in Germany is effectively a Luftwaffe station. Versailles might have placed limitations on the expansion of a German air force, but that didn’t stop many young men being recruited as private pilots, ready to form an airborne fighting force when the time came. There are eyes and ears everywhere. So, as I said
, get there, board the aeroplane, and get out. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now then, take down this information—to the very letter. Nothing must be incorrect or you’ll end up in Istan-bloody-bul. I want you to read it back to me.”

  With a piece of paper in hand, covered with details about the airfield and notes for Elaine that made little sense to Maisie, she made one more telephone call, leaving a message. It was not long before Ulli Bader called her back, unable to disguise his surprise when she asked him to arrange for a motor car at an early hour to take her and another person to the smallholding where Leon Donat was in hiding. She informed him that there would be one more stop as soon as Donat was collected, but she would give him the details when she saw him. He stipulated a meeting place and a time the following morning. Maisie knew then that when she left the hotel on the morrow, it would be without her belongings. There must be no indication that she was leaving Munich for good.

  Schwabing was as busy as ever as Maisie made her way to the house where Elaine had been living. She hoped Elaine had returned to sleep off her hours in the pub, and had not brought company with her. Maisie watched the door for a few moments, feeling the cool air as it found her neck and wrists. She pulled up her gloves and wrapped her scarf a little tighter. Soon the landlady left the building. She did not turn the key, but set off, leaving it to close and lock in her wake. Seizing her opportunity, Maisie crossed the street, catching the door just as the latch was about to click. Upstairs she rapped on Elaine’s door.

  “It’s open!” Elaine called out in English.

  “Hello, Elaine,” Maisie said as she entered, closing the door behind her.

  Elaine came to her feet. “I thought you were one of the girls. What are you doing here, Maisie? Shouldn’t you have left Munich?”

  “I had hoped you’d have left Munich by now—but you didn’t follow my advice.”

  Elaine shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave, and no one came to arrest me, so I took my chances.” She scooped up clothing strewn across the chair, threw it onto the bed, and held out her hand. “Take a seat.”

  “I cannot stay long.” Maisie stepped closer to Elaine, so close her request couldn’t be ignored or brushed aside. “Elaine, I have a very, very important task for you. It is not one you can refuse, for it is on behalf of your country.”

  She saw the edge of Elaine’s lip began to twitch, as if she wanted to smile, as if she were about to laugh out loud, but at the same time her shock at the gravity in Maisie’s tone was apparent. She seemed to stand straighter, staring directly at Maisie. In that second, Maisie saw the look of determination she’d seen before on John Otterburn’s face.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Maisie explained the mission that lay before them in detail. She described how Elaine would meet Maisie and the motor car, how they would drive to a smallholding and assist a very sick man to the airfield. She gave Elaine information about the aircraft and its destination, handing over the notes she’d made during the call to John Otterburn. She told her that the entire expedition would not be without risk—a high level of risk.

  Elaine looked at Maisie and then at the notes, nodding as if someone were giving her verbal instructions. As the seconds passed, Maisie feared she would refuse, that the Otterburn resolve had taken Elaine in the opposite direction, that she would dig in her heels and never leave Munich. But Elaine gave a half smile. “Piece of cake. But I hope my father doesn’t think I’m going to be back in his suffocating fold in a couple of days.”

  “To be frank, I don’t care what your father thinks. What you do when you get to Zurich is up to you. You will have done a real service to Britain, and I will ensure you are remunerated for your time and for the chance you’re taking. I just want to get Donat to Zurich.”

  Elaine shrugged. “Switzerland might turn out to be fun. Goodness knows, it was when I was sent to school there.”

  “One more thing, Elaine—you must not on any account speak to anyone else between now and tomorrow morning. Not Mark Scott, not your officer friends, not even the girls here in the house.”

  Elaine nodded. “I will follow your instructions without fail, Maisie. But one thing to get straight—my country is Canada first, Britain second. I’ll do a job for the latter to protect the former—because as sure as God made little apples, where Britain goes, we go too. And if there is one thing I have come to know since I came to Munich—because I’ve had time to do a lot of thinking—it’s that if I wanted to go anywhere, in truth, it would be right back across the Atlantic with my boy.”

  Maisie looked at Elaine Otterburn, at her bright eyes, her upright stance, the fierce determination in her countenance, as if she were clenching her teeth while she awaited Maisie’s reply.

  “Help me get Donat out of here, and in turn I will do all I can for you. It’s time you were your own woman, Elaine, not a puppet for someone else—your father, Mark Scott, or the likes of Luther Gramm, Hans Berger, and their brother officers.”

  Elaine blushed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Maisie.” Her eyes met Maisie’s. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  As she left, Maisie hoped that was true. Today she had seen John Otterburn’s daughter, given exact instructions and a chance to shine, to rise to the occasion. But, Maisie reminded herself, she had also seen her fall apart—and they were both still suffering the consequences.

  Gilbert Leslie came to the hotel to deliver the necessary papers for Leon Donat, should he be asked to present them at the airfield. He lingered only long enough to wish Maisie well, and bon voyage.

  “Mr. Leslie, you know it would help very much if you accompanied Mr. Donat all the way back to London. You could help ease the way, you know.”

  “I thank you once again for your interest, but I think you’re quite capable of doing any easing required.” He lifted his hat in farewell, but before he could leave, Maisie pressed a piece of paper into his hand.

  “This is where I will be at half past nine tomorrow, if you change your mind.”

  The following morning, the hotel lobby was busier than Maisie had expected. A large and lingering group of travelers from Berlin was leaving the hotel, jostling to form a queue while they waited their turn to check out, and the doorman was helping load luggage into a motor bus. Maisie was able to step out unnoticed. Keeping close to the outside wall of the building, she walked away, following the directions given her by Ulli Bader. Maisie looked up at the sky: it was what James would have called a fine day for taking up a kite. Elaine was already at the meeting place, her long coat almost disguising the thick woolen trousers she had donned in anticipation of her role. She’d wrapped a wide scarf around her head and neck, and brought a leather bag of the type usually carried by doctors on their rounds.

  Bader nodded at them both, opened the passenger door, and waited while Maisie and Elaine climbed aboard. The same man was driving as before; Bader took the seat next to him and nodded, and the motor car moved away from the curb and as they began to gather speed, Maisie felt Elaine Otterburn take two deep breaths.

  “It’ll be all right, Elaine. I know it will. You’re a very good aviator. You said it yourself—it’ll be a piece of cake.”

  “At least I turned up this time,” said Elaine.

  “I never doubted you,” said Maisie.

  Another white lie, but it was a good one.

  Leon Donat was sitting at the kitchen table when Maisie and Ulli Bader entered the farmhouse. He was dressed as if for a gentlemen’s luncheon or an important meeting. His suit seemed tired, but it was brushed and pressed, and he wore a clean shirt with a tie and a small handkerchief in the pocket. His shoes had been polished, and over his arm he held a raincoat. His hand rested on the rounded top of an old walking stick. Fatigue marked his bloodshot eyes.

  “Are you ready, Mr. Donat?”

  Donat nodded. “My strength is mustered.” The words seemed to catch upon the drooping lip as he tried to smile, swallowing back saliva. “I
can walk, with aid.”

  Bader nodded at Maisie and pressed a hand to the shoulder of the woman who stood by the sink, wringing a dry cloth. Donat stood up, thanked the woman, and said she would hear from him again. Then, with Maisie and Bader supporting him on either side, he walked to the door, then to the path, and on to the motor car. Elaine was waiting by the front passenger door. She reached out to take Donat’s arm.

  “Lovely to see you again, Mr. Donat. You’re on your way home now.”

  Mist was rising off the land as the airfield came into view. It was smaller than Maisie had imagined: only a long, low hut, a windsock flying above a narrow runway that looked perilously short. Three aircraft were lined up to one side.

  “We will wait only until we see you walk out of the hut toward the aircraft,” said Bader.

  “I understand,” said Maisie. “Once we’re on the other side of the hut, we’re on our own.”

  “The name of the game.” Elaine had pulled a packet of cigarettes from her bag and proceeded to light one. “Rude of me—anyone care to join me?” No one answered. She extinguished the cigarette between thumb and finger, adding, “Shouldn’t really do this anyway, not at an airfield.”

  One man was on duty as they entered the hut, though they heard laughter from an adjoining room. It was the laughter of boys, thought Maisie, a youthful sound, as if jokes were being told, stories embellished—perhaps with a little help from something stronger than coffee, even at that time in the morning. But what they had been drinking mattered not to her; she only hoped they remained exactly where they were. She approached the desk and handed the man in attendance a sheet of paper with another set of instructions dictated by John Otterburn. The man looked up and nodded, pointing to one aircraft set apart from the others.

  “It’s ready for you,” he said in German. “Your papers?”

  Maisie gave him her own and Elaine’s passports, and Donat’s letters of transit from the consulate.

  “My father is ill. I must get him to Zurich for treatment,” she explained.