The Consequences of Fear, Jacqueline Winspear [most important books to read TXT] 📗

a differentman, an even braver soldier, you will always feel your actions measured against something you hold dear, won’t you?” Maisieshook her head. “Your personal honor.”

She did not wait for Chaput to reply, but left the house and walked toward the motor car outside. A driver opened the rearpassenger door, and she stepped in.

MacFarlane waited until she was seated before he tapped on the window, signaling the driver to proceed.

“All done, Maisie?”

“Do we wait to hear the shot?”

“No, he won’t do it yet. Probably at the end of the war—unless the Gestapo get him first. He’s going out on a Lysander tomorrownight.”

“Thank you for coming with the car.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Got a few minutes to spare me at Baker Street?”

“Do I have a choice, Robbie?”

“No. But I like to ask. It makes me feel like more of a gentleman.”

 

Inside his office, MacFarlane walked to the filing cabinet, opened the bottom drawer, and took out the bottle of eighteen-year-oldsingle-malt whisky and two glasses, pouring a good two fingers’ worth in each glass. He handed one to Maisie, who was seatedon the other side of his desk.

“You knew the entire time,” said Maisie.

“Let’s not go over it all.” He took a hefty swig. “Yes, I knew. Would I have liked you to drop it? Yes, I would. All thatbusiness over there with the Arabs—I don’t understand it and never will. It all looks like a bloody mess dished up by toomany incompetent imperialist cooks, if you ask me. Anyway, we’ve got a different war to be getting on with now. You’ve foundout who did what, and now you’re done.”

“You could have stopped all of it,” said Maisie.

“No, I couldn’t. There’s an important alliance here, and one I have to protect, even when I have to clean up after our allies.On a personal note, there’s also the Auld Alliance, as we say in Scotland, or in the case of the French major, the Vieille Alliancewith Ecosse—we’ve got to stick together to control the English after all, a matter of honor between Scotland and France.”He raised an eyebrow. “And I’m only half joking.”

“Well, even with your warped idea of honor, you should have stopped the attack on Gabriella Hunter. Weren’t you having hispeople watched, so you knew where they were going?”

“That was unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? Robbie, she almost died! She could be dead now, and—”

“But she’s not. I saw her this afternoon. Sitting up in bed. She knew the stakes, Maisie. She knew what would happen the minuteshe took a shovel and started digging up the past. It took just one or two telephone calls on her part. And I don’t have eyesin the back of my head or as many people to deploy as you might think. All the same, if she had been in contact with me, shewould have had protection—she knows who I am, and she knew how to raise the drawbridge. Maisie, she was a top intelligenceagent, for pity’s sake. She’ll be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life. Anyway, it appears she managed to getout a bit of useful information to you in time.”

Maisie nodded.

“You know, Maisie, we will all be called to account in some way or another when this war is over. In the aftermath, actionstaken in wartime aren’t necessarily looked upon kindly. Those who have never been to war can be the harshest of judges—theirsense of what is right taking comfort in the soft pillow of peace rather than the bed of nails that is conflict.” MacFarlanerefilled his glass. “Now then, before I go too poetic on you, a word about the files I gave you a few days ago.”

“I rejected one.” Maisie sipped her whisky and felt the heat at the back of her throat. “What’s going on, Robbie? Why do youkeep doing this to me? Sending me recruits I know and therefore cannot in all good conscience possibly assess.”

“Keeping you on your toes, Your Ladyship. Everyone has to be tested now and again to make sure they’re paying attention, evenyou.”

Maisie rolled her eyes, then took another sip of whisky. “Is that really it?”

MacFarlane shook his head. “Not with Evernden and Jones. I knew I could trust you to be detached, even though you maintained it was a conflict of interest. I needed you to make the final report, Maisie. We all have to follow orders we don’t like—and that goes for me too.”

“So what about Corporal Bright?”

MacFarlane looked at Maisie. “Guilty as charged. That one was a test, Maisie. You see, I have to know if you’re standing backand not letting emotions get in the way. You’ve struck up a little friendship with the girl, and I had to be sure you couldlook at her dispassionately, whether you would just give me a bucket of reasons why you wouldn’t look at the file, or whetheryou would give me a solid assessment. I don’t know who the next person through my door will be. My next best agent could beone of your friend’s sons, and I have to know you’d approach your work with clarity. We don’t send people over who don’t wantto go. Anyway, I won’t do it again, but I was honest with you—it’s part of the game, Maisie. Just part of the game. Anyway,I’m curious—why did you reject Bright?”

“That’s an easy one, Robbie—and you know what it is, because you’ve thought as much yourself. She’s overconfident. She’s asparky young woman with lots of spirit, but she’s got an answer for everything, and from what I’ve seen, she knows no fear—noneat all.”

“You’re right.” MacFarlane swirled the remaining whisky around in his glass. “Were you scared, Maisie? Going to see Chaput—wereyou frightened?”

Maisie reached forward and set her glass on the desk. She nodded. “Of course. I knew the man would be armed, and I hoped I had the measure of his temper, but you never know how any animal might respond when it’s cornered. But I also knew he felt protected by his position here—and like any agent,