“I have my ways,” David said, rubbing his hands together in glee. “Did you also know one of the first heavy high-explosive bombs to fall in 1940 landed in King William Street, at almost exactly the same distance to the west?”
“Did our homework, did we?” she said dryly. David grinned, eyes alight. “We’re having our own Great Fire with the Blitz, I think.”
David nodded. “With many of the bombs still buried. And it could start up again at any moment.” He looked up. “There was supposed to be a phoenix at the top, you know.”
“I didn’t, actually.”
“The symbol of death and rebirth,” David mused, “marking the end of the old city and the beginning of the new.” They stood side by side in silence, taking in the vista. “Have you been reading the papers?”
“I have,” Maggie admitted. “And even with more information, I keep turning it over in my mind: Was Reitter born bad? Or was he born innocent, then abused and twisted into an ugly shape?” She looked up to sky. “There aren’t any easy answers. Goodness knows, I miss studying math—two plus two is four—there’s always a provable answer to an equation. Real life is much more raw and confusing.”
“It would be easier, wouldn’t it, if we didn’t know Reitter had been abused himself? If we could think of him merely as an evil beast, incapable of love or light?”
“It would be. But that isn’t the case.” Maggie thought of her mother, who had turned to nursing, helping people. Clara Hess, who had saved her life. Had she changed? Was it possible? “People are confusing and frustrating, flawed and weak. Always confounding. Yet sometimes capable of moments of unexpected grace.”
“Just like us.”
“What do you think about justice?”
“She’s blind, I hear,” David replied.
“Often portrayed without a blindfold,” Maggie joked. “But is justice adhering to the letter of the law? That’s the opposite of grace. And what is life without grace?” She smiled. “Perhaps it’s best if Justice really isn’t blind. We need some wisdom and humility in our justice system—insight, so to speak. Maybe then society as a whole can have clearer vision.”
“You’ve read about the Jews in Europe, yes?”
“Of course.”
“I keep going back to Reitter and his mother as the Third Reich personified,” David said. “A lot’s been made public, but some things haven’t.” Even though they were entirely alone, he lowered his voice. “Our intelligence agencies intercepted and decrypted something called the Höfle Telegram. It’s a report sent by SS Major Hermann Höfle to his superior, Lieutenant Colonel Adolf Eichmann, regarding the previous year’s accomplishments in ‘Operation Reinhard’—the extermination of Polish Jews. The report tells us last year, Nazis at the death camps at Lublin, Belzec, Sobibor, and Treblinka killed over a million Jews.” He swallowed. “And they’re just getting started.”
“My God,” Maggie breathed, her mind unable to comprehend such numbers, so much death. She remembered the article she’d seen at Vera Baines’s: HITLER: WE WILL EXTERMINATE ALL POLISH JEWS IN 1943. A million Jews and it’s only mid-March. The genocide has begun—and if it’s left unchecked—if we don’t win this war—an entire people could be eradicated from the face of the earth. She took a deep breath. “And, when the war is over, what will the world do with Nazi Germany? Execution? Is that justice?”
“Winning the war must not mean the destruction of Germany, Italy, or Japan,” he said, “but it must mean the destruction of the philosophies that led to the conquest and the subjugation of other people.”
Maggie thought about the Britalians in the United Kingdom, the Japanese in America. “And we need to look inward as well.”
“Well, you know the best place in the world for navel gazing.”
“India?” Maggie asked, confused.
“Hollywood!” She rolled her eyes. “Look, Mags,” David continued, “I do wish you’d think seriously about taking this chance to go to Los Angeles with Sarah—take a break from all this. Soak up the sun under a palm tree. Meet a few movie stars. Eat an orange or two.”
Maggie raised gloved hands. “The war—”
“The war’s there, too. Pearl Harbor, remember?”
“I can’t just abandon England.”
David placed a hand over his heart. “ ‘There will always be an England,’ ” he told her with mock solemnity. “And there undoubtedly will be plenty of war left when you return. We’ll keep the light on. Behind the blackout curtains, of course.”
“Why do you want me to go so badly?”
“It’s John—” he began.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, no—is he all right?”
“Yes. He is, but his fiancée’s not. She’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“The Los Angeles police are calling it an accident. But John thinks it was murder.” David looked at her imploringly. “You could help him, Maggie. You could help him solve the case. Bring him some peace of mind.”
Maggie looked out over the sparkling waters of the Thames. “I wanted to do so much when this war started. I wanted to be a hero.”
“You can’t save the world,” David said, “but you can help John.”
“It’s not quite the same thing.”
“It would be a mitzvah—an act of human kindness—to help John. The Talmud says, If someone is sick or in need and you can take a sixtieth of their pain, that’s goodness. That’s God.” David paused a moment, and then added, “And if something happens between you two…”
“David!”
“Are you still with Durgin?”
Maggie took a moment. “No. Yes. Well, it’s confusing. We both need to sort a few things out. We’re taking some time apart.”
“We aren’t guaranteed anything, Maggie. Life isn’t fair. Look at the Bible—Isaac went blind. Sarah sacrificed everything. Poor Job. Even Jesus was crucified. Suffering is life. Life is suffering.” David gave one of his impish grins. “Or rather, as the Boss might say, ‘Life is challenging.’ ”
His imitation of Churchill’s accent and intonation was perfect. Maggie’s lips curled in a smile, remembering the Prime Minister’s deliberate and ever-optimistic choice of words. He never said things were hard, they were challenging. And times weren’t tough, they were stern. “But we must resist the temptation to become cynical and passive—despite the current ugliness, destruction, and devastation.”
“Solving the alleged murder of my ex-fiancé’s fiancée,” Maggie said. “A bit awkward, don’t you think?”
“You should go.”
“I don’t want to leave Chuck and Griffin. Or the Hundred and Seventh.”
“I’ll look in on Chuck and young Master Griffin,” David assured her. “And the ‘Suicide Squad’ will still be here when you return. And, Maggie, it’s all the war. Whether it’s fighting, or defusing bombs, or stopping a killer—when you come down to it, it’s all order against chaos. Bring some British calm and order to Los Angeles, why don’t you? The change—and the sunshine—may do you some good, too.”
Maggie was silent, considering.
“Do you know what the Boss said about the Great Fire?”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “You went to the trouble of memorizing it. It would be churlish to keep you from telling me.”
He wrinkled his nose at her and began to recite. “What is the use of living, if it be not to strive for noble causes and to make this muddled world a better place for those who will live in it after we are gone? I avow my faith that we are marching towards better days. Humanity will not be cast down. We are going on swinging bravely forward along the grand high road and already behind the distant mountains is the promise of the sun.”
“Top marks, Mr. Greene.”
“Thank you,” he said with a grin. “But, Maggie, really: life is precarious at best,
and, as you well know, there’s a war on. There will always be something. Go,” he told her. “Go to Los Angeles and help our boy. If there’s a crisis, you can help, because you’ve survived worse. Your scars make you stronger. You help people. This time, you can help John.”
They looked out over the broken skyline, as nearby church bells rang. David squeezed her hand. “And then come back. Keep fighting. And when, finally, it’s all over—we’ll rebuild.”
Maggie didn’t reply, but she smiled as she turned her face to the sunlight.
To the Bomb Disposal Units of the Corps of Royal Engineers during World War II—and also those who, to this day, defuse the buried bombs
Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank! First off, abbracci e baci to my husband, Noel, and son, Matt, who are loving, supportive, and, most of all, patient.
Grazie mille to my amazing agent, Victoria “Agent V” Skurnick, and the team at Levine Greenberg Rosten Literary Agency.
Grazie di cuore to Kate Miciak, who will always be Maggie Hope’s fairy godmother.
Molte grazie to the amazing professionals of Penguin Random House, especially Elana Seplow-Jolley, Kim Hovey, Quinne Rogers, Melissa Sanford, Allison Schuster.
I miei ringraziamenti to Vincent La Scala, Benjamin Dreyer, and the fantastic copy editors.
And grazie tante to the always intrepid sales force, who discovered Maggie Hope and keep her going strong!
* * *
—
There are many people who helped me research and write this one—grazie infinite to all of you.
In no particular order, thank you to Rebecca Danos, Wellesley “little sister” and math (and physics) genius. Simon Hewitt Jones, for his expertise on the violin. Dancer and choreographer Tom Gold, for his insight into the world of ballet, and Frederick Ashton and Lincoln Kirstein.
Thank you (again!) to Wellesley sister Meredith Norris, MD, who made sure all the characters’ medical issues were plausible.
To my paisan and fellow Calabrese, Ronald Granieri, PhD, for his insights into World War II history and Italian immigrant culture.
To Idria Barone Knecht, for her gimlet eye and sense of humor.
And to Phyllis Brooks Schafer, writer, editor, and Blitz-survivor, for her insight into London during the war. Grazie di nuovo!
Sources
Books
Chemaly, Soraya. Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger. Atria Books.
Feigel, Lara. The Love-Charm of Bombs: Restless Lives in the Second World War. Bloomsbury.
Glass, Charles. The Deserters: A Hidden History of World War II. Penguin Books.
Homans, Jennifer. Apollo’s Angels: A History of Ballet. Random House.
Jappy, Melanie. Danger UXB: The Remarkable Story of the Disposal of Bombs During the Second World War. Pan Macmillan.
Kerin, Freeman. The Civilian Bomb Disposing Earl: Jack Howard and Bomb Disposal in World War 2. Pen and Sword Military.
King, David. Death in the City of Light: The Serial Killer of Nazi-Occupied Paris. Broadway Books.
Kramer, Ann. Conscientious Objectors of the Second World War: Refusing to Fight. Pen and Sword Social History.
Owen, James. Danger UXB: The Heroic Story of the WWII Bomb Disposal Teams. Abacus Software (digital original edition).
Ransted, Chris. Bomb Disposal in World War Two. Pen and Sword History.
Schecter, Harold. Fatal: The Poisonous Life of a Female Serial Killer. Pocket Star Books.
Smith, Jack. Killer Nurse: Life of Serial Killer Genene Ann Jones. Maplewood Publishing.
Traister, Rebecca. Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger. Simon & Schuster.
Vronsky, Peter. Female Serial Killers: How and Why Women Become Monsters. Berkley Books.
Articles
“Books and Bombs: The London Library and the Second World War.” London Library blog, March 16, 2018.
“British Museum and the Blitz.” British Museum blog, May 10, 2016.
Cooper, Ellison. “Are Serial Killers Born Bad or Man-Made Monsters?” CrimeReads, July 9, 2018.
Hall, Allan. “The King’s Mercy: How George VI Saved a Refugee’s Life.” Daily Mail online, March 8, 2011.
“Hitler: We Will Exterminate All Polish Jews in 1943.” The Jewish Review and Observer (Cleveland, Ohio), March 5, 1943.
“Save Doomed Jews, Huge Rally Pleads: United Nations Must Halt Nazi Murders Now, Leaders Tell 21,000 at the Garden.” The New York Times, March 2, 1943.
Video
How to Deactivate Unexploded Bombs in World War Two. Colacas.
Unexploded Bomb (1949). British Pathé.
U.X.B. Unexploded Bomb Disposal WWII England. Total Content Digital.
Why London Is Still Covered with WWII Bombs. Now This World.
BY SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL
Mr. Churchill’s Secretary
Princess Elizabeth’s Spy
His Majesty’s Hope
The Prime Minister’s Secret Agent
Mrs. Roosevelt’s Confidante
The Queen’s Accomplice
The Paris Spy
The Prisoner in the Castle
The King’s Justice
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL is the New York Times, Washington Post, and USA Today bestselling author of the Maggie Hope mystery series. She won the Barry Award and has been nominated for the Edgar, Macavity, Agatha, Left Coast Crime, Dilys, and ITW Thriller awards. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and son.
susaneliamacneal.com
Facebook.com/MrChurchillsSecretary
Twitter: @susanmacneal
Instagram: @susaneliamacneal
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