‘That’s because it wasn’t my voice,’ I said bitterly. ‘Your friend Mr Denbeigh put in someone else’s voice instead.’
I felt his chest moving as he laughed. ‘Want me to challenge Denbeigh to a duel or something? For insulting my true love?’
‘No,’ I said, giving his arm a playful punch. ‘Just share in my indignation, please.’
‘I do. Denbeigh’s a bum.’ Michael paused, then said in a less playful voice, ‘I hear you’ve been doing a little sleuthing. I don’t like it and I told them so.’
‘It was pretty harmless. Has my tryst with Lowell borne fruit? I mean, has he contacted Moray?’
‘I can’t tell you that. Can’t tell you anything.’ His voice changed. ‘Tryst? You enjoy yourself?’
‘Jealous of Dan Lowell?’ I said teasingly. ‘I’d better convince you that I’m not interested in anyone except—’
When we reluctantly drew apart I said, a little shakily, ‘Michael, you’re going to have to leave. You can’t be here when the girls get up or I’ll be thrown out on my ear.’
He laughed. ‘And you need your sleep if you’re on duty at seven-thirty. Okay. You stay here in chaste repose and I’ll slip quietly downstairs and get out the way I came in.’ He loosened his grip. I grabbed his arm.
‘When will I see you again?’
‘Don’t worry about that. Soon.’
‘Should I watch for you by moonlight?’
He laughed. ‘I won’t try this trick again, but you’ll see me soon, I promise.’
Another long kiss that left me reeling. ‘I love you, kid,’ he said. ‘It’ll all work out, don’t worry.’ And he was gone.
‘I love you, too,’ I whispered, into the empty darkness.
I managed to fall asleep for a couple of hours after he left, but when I awoke at six my first thought was to wonder if it had been a dream. I found his gift when I sat down in front of my dressing table to put my hair into its usual chignon. On the table was an exquisite Spanish hair comb in filigree silver. It looked antique and expensive. I put it into my hair and preened a little, before tucking it carefully away.
The Spanish comb led me to think that they’d sent Michael to Spain. Why was he back in England? And why secretly? I hoped he wasn’t in any danger. Then I told myself not to be silly. This was England in wartime. We were all in danger all the time.
I was soon to find out, however, that danger was closer for some than others. And closest of all to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
‘Maisie dear,’ said Miss King, as I came down to lunch a few days later, ‘a man left this note for you yesterday when you were on duty. A very pleasant American man.’
She held out a note, and I took it with a smile, thinking it must be Michael. ‘Thanks so much.’
I tore open the envelope without checking the writing. It wasn’t from Michael. Dan Lowell declared that he would be delighted if I would agree to dine with him on Saturday, which was the following day.
I have a feeling that I was distracted towards the end of our date, and I’d sure like to meet up to explain it all. Our friendship means a lot to me. Please say you’ll meet me.
He gave a telephone number and asked me to call him.
I had no idea how to respond. Captain Temple had said I was to have nothing more to do with Dan Lowell, but if he was intending to explain things to me, surely meeting him was a good idea.
Jim agreed, when I telephoned him.
‘He may want to confide in you, which would be very useful. Look, I’ll telephone Captain Temple and let you know what his views are about it all.’
‘Michael won’t be happy,’ I said. ‘He told me he didn’t like my last meeting with Lowell.’
Jim breathed a laugh. ‘So you’ve already seen him. There’s been a lot of subtle pressure applied about your Michael Harker. He’s not here officially yet, and Lowell doesn’t know. So if you meet him, for God’s sake don’t mention it.’
‘I won’t.’
Jim phoned back an hour later.
‘Captain Temple wants you to meet Lowell.’
My heart began to thump. ‘I‘m not particularly fond of spy Maisie, you know, Jim. What if she’s not up to the job?’
Jim laughed. ‘She’ll be fine. We think the world of, er, spy Maisie. Captain Temple wants you to say as little as possible but listen a lot. I’m sure you’ll do that well. He said to remind you, and I quote, that Man is, on the whole, a conceited creature, and his conceit will often lead him into indiscretion in an attempt to impress a woman. In other words, a sympathetic hearing goes a long way.’
I made a face at the receiver, but replied calmly enough. ‘Tell him I’ll do my best.’
‘Stout fella. He wants you to meet us on Sunday morning to go over what Lowell said.’
‘I’ll be on duty Sunday morning.’
‘We’ll fix it with Moray. I’ll pick you up outside the club at nine.’
I walked to the Soho gardens with my book the following morning. It was a warm morning of bright sunshine and I was looking for some peace and quiet to take my mind off my date with Dan Lowell that afternoon. John Casey had been wrong when he said I was a champion liar. I thought I’d got away with it all at my last meeting with Lowell, but the more he spoke to me, the harder it would be to keep up the façade.
I had just opened my book when John Casey sat down on the bench beside me.
‘What do you want, Mr Casey?’ I said coldly. Then I had a thought. ‘Are you still on about what you thought I took from Mr Egan?’ I stared into his eyes. ‘He gave me the locket without me knowing. There was nothing in the locket except a picture. Moray searched it thoroughly and said it was empty except for the picture.’
He grabbed my arm. ‘Moray? Your station leader? What would Moray know about it?’
‘Didn’t Mr Lowell tell you? After the police had spoken to me I went back to the club and picked the blasted thing up because Moray wanted to see it. I left it with him when I went out on a job, and when I got back he said that it was just a cheap piece of jewellery and I needn’t worry about being charged with stealing. Didn’t Mr Lowell tell you? I told him last week and he seemed to think it was important.’
The pressure on my arm increased. I’d have a bruise tomorrow, but it was worth it to get this annoying man off my back.
‘This is the truth?’ he said. ‘And you told Lowell this?’
‘You’re hurting me.’ He released my arm and I made a point of rubbing it. ‘Yes. I had lunch with Mr Lowell last week and I told him.’
Casey glared at me. ‘If this is a lie, you’ll be very sorry indeed, little lady.’ He stood up and strode away from me.
I continued to rub my arm as I watched him go. It was interesting that Lowell hadn’t told him what I’d said. Did it mean that Lowell didn’t trust him? I wished I was better at this whole spying business, and I wished I didn’t have to meet Dan Lowell in a few hours.
Dan Lowell was waiting outside the club at one, leaning against the big black Bentley. He smiled when I appeared. I had taken some trouble, and was wearing my pretty blue linen frock.
‘Maisie, you look lovely,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
‘Surrey again?’ I said with a smile.
‘Nah. A nice little place in Mayfair.’
It was a glorious June afternoon. The big car seemed to glide along; London’s bumpy, potholed, blitzed roads were no trouble to the suspension of a fancy Bentley. Even with the usual detours, it wasn’t a long drive. He pulled up outside a restaurant in Conduit Street. The walls may have been sandbagged and the windows covered in plyboard, but it was clearly very exclusive.
Inside it was dark and discreet. I thought of my dinner with Michael at the bright Victory Restaurant, where he hoped he wouldn’t be tempted to be mushy, and I smiled. Dan assumed it was a smile of appreciation.
‘I thought you’d like this place,’ he said. ‘It has class. Just like you.’
Only an American w
ould say such a thing. I smiled again and excused myself to go to the ladies’ room to tidy up.
The wine was delicious. Although I was sure to ration myself and drink plenty of water as well, it wasn’t long until I felt happily relaxed.
I toyed with my cutlery, wondering if I should mention a news item. Some devil made me say, ‘Weren’t all the German and Italian consulates in America closed last week and the staff expelled? Does that mean America’s views on being involved in the war are changing?’
‘They were caught spying,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t mean that the States wants to come into this European war.’
‘So you’re still an isolationist?’
‘More than a hundred thousand American soldiers died in the last war, including my father. I don’t want the same thing happening in another European war that’s nothing to do with the United States.’
‘I’m so sorry about your father,’ I said.
‘Yeah. I was five years old. It was tough.’
I frowned at him, trying to marshal my thoughts. ‘But, don’t you see? If Hitler defeats Britain, he’ll come for America. Only by then you’ll have no allies left. It’ll be America against the Axis powers.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not our war.’
‘It wasn’t Ireland’s war, either,’ I said, heatedly. ‘What about that terrible raid on Dublin last month? Eire is neutral, but it didn’t stop the Luftwaffe from bombing it. The same thing will happen to America if you let Britain fall to the Nazis.’
‘It won’t happen to America,’ he said.
That made me angry. I knew I needed to calm down. I had to keep the conversation light from now on, and listen, not talk. No more wine, I decided.
Lowell gave me an indulgent smile. ‘Do you like the wine? Why don’t you have some more?’
I picked up my wine glass and had a sip. ‘It’s tasty,’ I said. Then, annoyed at myself, I had a long drink of water.
We moved on to small talk. The weather got us through soup and rationing through the fish course. During our main course – filet mignon and goodness knows where they got the meat – we began to discuss war issues again.
‘You must be pleased at the drop in air raids,’ said Lowell. ‘You’ll be complaining of boredom soon.’
‘Never,’ I said, laughing. ‘They still come over occasionally, as you know. Just not every night, thank God. I think it’s the English summer, because there’s not enough darkness to protect them.’
‘Maybe,’ said Lowell. ‘Although it hasn’t stopped your RAF from carrying out bombing raids into France and Germany.’
‘Yes, it’s marvellous news. What are the papers saying? That the RAF now has the ascendency in the air war.’
‘Otherwise, the war news isn’t good for Britain,’ said Lowell.
‘You mean the loss of Greece and our retreat from Crete?’
He nodded. ‘And the attacks on Malta.’
‘There’s some good news,’ I protested. ‘My friend Lily is thrilled at the Australian victories in Syria and Lebanon, for instance.’
He shrugged. We were silent as the plates were removed.
‘I’m meeting your Mr Moray early this evening,’ said Lowell.
‘Oh? I suppose you’ll have a lot in common.’
He gave me a sly smile. ‘Because we doubt Hitler is the monster you make him out to be? Or because we think Russia is a worse enemy than Germany?’
‘Well,’ I said lazily, on a stifled yawn, ‘as Simon Levy said, it’s not Stalin who’s bombing Britain.’
‘Give him time. Stalin’s a dangerous enemy.’ Lowell looked at me over the side of his glass. ‘Quoting Simon Levy. I thought you didn’t approve of him.’
I had been right to ration the wine, because I felt as if I was melting into a state of sleepy relaxation. I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it, and found that I was laughing. ‘Don’t I?’
Lowell leaned forward towards me. ‘You can’t tell me it’s carrots that makes your night fighters suddenly so effective,’ he said.
His remark seemed terribly funny and I gave a peal of laughter. ‘Who knows?’ I leaned in towards him, so that our faces were very close. ‘You should eat a lot of carrots, just in case,’ I whispered. I shook my head again. Why was I so tipsy? I’d not drunk that much.
‘You don’t think it could be some sort of secret device?’ said Lowell.
I gave an exaggerated shrug.
‘Of course it is.’
His face became intent.
‘Yes?’ he said.
I touched the side of my nose. ‘It’s secret carrot pills. That’s what Powell says.’
I felt extremely light-headed, intoxicated. I took another drink of water.
He leaned closer and barked at me, ‘Do you like Simon Levy? Approve of him marrying Celia?’
‘Yes, of course I do. He’s lovely.’
I sucked in a breath, thinking that I shouldn’t have said that. My body felt tingly, fizzy. Lowell leaned back and took a sip of his wine. I forced my eyes open. ‘What’s happening to me?’
‘I put Pentothal in the water. New wonder drug from the US. You’ll feel a bit woozy for a while, then sleep. In the meantime you’ll be loquacious – that means you’ll talk a lot – and you’ll be very cooperative in answering questions. Doesn’t last long, unfortunately.’
‘Oh,’ I said, dreamily. ‘Loquacious. I like that word. Loqua-a-acious. Nice word.’
‘What do you know about the microfilm Egan was carrying, Maisie?’
‘Microfilm? Maisie had a microfilm, microfilm, microfilm.’ I said the words in a sing-song voice, to the tune of Mary had a Little Lamb.
Lowell broke in. ‘Does Harker have it?’
‘Have what? Sex appeal? Yes he certainly does.’ Again I began to sing, this time to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy. ‘Michael Harker came to London just to ride a pony, stuck a feather in his—’
‘Moray?’
‘In his Moray?’ I giggled.
‘Does Moray really hate Jews?’
‘Yes. We all know he hates Jews and doesn’t hate Hitler.’ I began to sing an old folk song. ‘Down Sheffield Park a maid did dwell—’
He said, sharply, ‘Who has the microfilm, Maisie? Does Moray?’
‘Don’t know,’ I said, because I didn’t. Then, again in sing-song, ‘Haven’t a clue. Someone. Maybe it’s gone. Gone for ever. For ever and ever, amen.’
‘Tell me about Moray.’
I found myself saying, very clearly, ‘Moray shouldn’t have been so mean to David Levy. David was nice. He died. Lots of people die. I hate Hitler. I says me prayers. To hell with Hitler I says. And then I goes to sleep…’ My voice faded.
Lowell squeezed my hand. ‘What about Moray and the watch fob?’
‘He had the thing for an hour or so when I was out at an incident. That’s all I know about it, and let’s not discuss it again.’ My eyes drifted shut.
He squeezed my hand again. ‘He had what?’
‘The locket, you chuff. And let’s not discuss it again.’
‘Have you heard of the cavity magnetron?’
‘No.’
‘Had you met Egan before the night he died?
‘No.’
‘Did you know he had the microfilm?’
‘No.’
‘Who has the microfilm?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe Hitler does. I bet he wants it. I feel sleepy.’
I tried to stand, but my body felt weightless, as if I were spinning in space.
‘My dear Miss Halliday,’ said Lowell, in a louder voice, ‘it looks like you’re under the weather. I’d better take you home.’
I could walk, although I was unsteady. Dan Lowell assisted me out of the restaurant past the disapproving eyes of the other diners. Outside, I rested against the side of his big black car and I had a few amused glances from passers-by.
Lowell leaned in close. I tried to shrink away, but he slipped his arm around me to hold me fast as he pre
ssed his mouth down on mine. It was difficult to breathe, and I struggled weakly. He pulled back and his grinning face was only an inch or so from mine, unrecognisable, almost obscene.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for a while,’ he said.
‘Leave me alone.’ I said. It was the slurred voice of a drunkard.
He laughed. ‘In five minutes I could do anything I wanted with you and you’d have no idea.’
‘Wha’ya mean?’ I tried to move, but my body refused to cooperate.
‘Don’t worry.’ He grinned again. ‘I’ll act like a gentleman. I’m not a heel, but I do like to be on the winning side. And, my dear Maisie, Britain is doomed.’
‘Wha’ya goin’a do?’
‘Get back the microfilm. Thanks for all the information. Gute nacht schatz. Sleep tight.’
The world was fading. Lowell’s grinning face now resembled a fleshless skull. I closed my eyes against the nightmare vision. He laid me on the cool, soft leather seat and closed the door behind me. I knew I should be doing something, but I really couldn’t work out what. I leaned back in the seat, tranquil, without much thought. I felt the shuddering purr as he started the engine, and the slight jerk as we moved away from the kerb.
A curtain of black velvet enfolded me. I tumbled into it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I woke slowly in near-darkness, lying on a narrow bed, knowing I’d had a nightmare. The horror began when my eyes opened on a blurred scene where nothing was where it should be. My dressing table had disappeared, along with the other two beds in my room. The bed I was lying on was too hard, the sheet felt slimy, the blanket smelled, and the pillow was too thin. My foggy brain wondered if I was still dreaming, but I knew. Somehow I knew that I was in danger.
I tried to get up but my body refused to obey me, staying slack and heavy. An attempt to lift my head caused a violent throbbing in my forehead. So I let the heavy lassitude take me, shut my eyes and drifted away into the darkness.
When I opened my eyes again the alien environment came sharply into focus. I was fully awake, unsure how long I’d slept after I’d first tried to wake up. I no longer felt dizzy, but I was terribly hungry and there were other, more basic, needs that I had to attend to. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, fighting nausea as I did so. It was then I realised, to my fury, that I was dressed only in my underwear. Some gentleman.
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