The Paris Spy (Maggie Hope Mystery #7)(93)

Martens pulled the car up to the curb and they both got out. He showed his ID to the guards at the door, then led her down the stairs and through concrete corridors to his office. Once there, he closed the door behind them.

“You used to work down here in the War Rooms, didn’t you? Underground?”

“A long time ago.” Maggie looked around his office. Yes, the same low-hanging red pipes, the same black fans, the same stale air…“Although unless bombs were actually dropping, Mr. Churchill preferred to work at Number Ten or the Annexe.”

“Still does.” He offered a chair.

Maggie sat, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap. “I must say, sir, you definitely have my attention.”

He cleared his throat and went to his desk. “Miss Hope—”

“Maggie, please,” she said as he took a seat as well.

“And I’m Henrik. Maggie, I know you’ve signed the Official Secrets Act and have a high-level security clearance—”

“Yes, of course.”

“And I’ve read through your file—it’s quite the page-turner. You’ve performed multiple missions at a top-secret level. You’re used to a life of discretion.”

Maggie shrugged. “Part of the job.”

“Yes.” Martens opened a metal briefcase with handcuffs attached.

“Oh, that does look rather cloak and dagger, doesn’t it?”

He pulled out some files. “Before we proceed, Maggie, I need to ask—do you plan to continue working for SOE?”

“Well, yes—as long as they’ll still have me. I’m hoping to be sent back to France. With the experience I’ve gained in Paris, I think I can be of use to the networks over there.”

“I want you to know that I read over your notes about Agent Calvert’s decrypts. And you were correct. She wasn’t using her security checks.”

“But at least F-Section knows now.”

He blinked. “The truth is, there was nothing sinister about their not acting on the absence of security checks, just amateurish incompetence.”

Maggie remembered Gaskell’s ordering her to fetch his tea while dismissing her safety concerns. She leaned forward, frowning. “But they know now, yes? The Sicherheitsdienst has control of Hugh Thompson’s radio. If they don’t know, they’ll just send agents into a certain death trap.”

“They don’t know. And we’re not going to enlighten them. At this juncture of the war, it’s what we want—no, need—to do.”

Maggie wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Colonel Martens—Henrik—I don’t understand.”

“I think you do, Maggie.”

Maggie gnawed at her lip. “No—we need to tell Colonel Gaskell—inform him of everything that’s happened and alert him that he needs to disregard anything and everything coming from Hugh’s—Agent Thompson’s—radio. Immediately!”

“Not so fast. We have an incredible intelligence opportunity here.”

“What?”

Martens went to the desk, picking up a framed official photograph of a glowering Winston Churchill. “We’re playing a deadly game here, Maggie, and the odds are badly stacked against us. The endgame is the location and day of the Allied invasion. Already, we’re going about a slow and painstaking process to create disinformation. We need to use every tool we find, even if it’s one we stumble upon.” He put down the photograph and reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket for his pack of Player’s cigarettes. “Especially then.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Martens pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his teeth. “But I think you do.”

“No.”

He reached in another pocket for his lighter. “We don’t imprison Lebeau—or execute him. We send him back to Paris.” With a flick of his thumb, a bright flame appeared.

“No—”

Martens stuck the end of the cigarette into the flame, pulling on it until the tip glowed red. He waited a moment, then said thoughtfully, “It’s perfect. A double agent will become a triple. We’re going to turn Lebeau to our side. Then we’ll send him back to Paris, to continue just what he’s been doing.” He exhaled, returning the lighter to his pocket. “But this time we’ll know everything. He’ll be working for us.”

“But he’s not only photographing letters and documents. He’ll be turning over agents and their radios to the Sicherheitsdienst.”

“Exactly.”

Maggie was still at a loss.

“You know what I’m saying.” Martens gave Maggie a moment to absorb the idea. “Think about it—it will work. Lebeau will feed von Waltz and his cronies false information about the place and day of the invasion. In the meantime, any messages von Waltz starts sending via the captured agents will be quite revealing—his questions will become more expansive once we start to satisfy his greed for information. A patient process of listing, collating, and cross-referencing his messages will gradually reveal what our enemy already knows, as well as his preoccupations and priorities. We’ll be able to get a clearer picture of Sicherheitsdienst operations in France.”

“But that means—” Maggie protested. “Colonel Gaskell will never agree! You’re talking about”—she lowered her voice—“deliberately sacrificing agents.”