The Queen's Accomplice (Maggie Hope Mystery #6)(100)

“Detective Chief Inspector James Durgin. He’s a…friend.”

“Good enough for me.” Chuck bounced the gurgling baby on her hip. “Bring him to the library and I’ll make us all some tea.”

David shook Durgin’s hand. “How do you do, Detective Chief Inspector.”

“Durgin will do just fine.”



“Meh!” K proclaimed, rubbing his face against her, then flopping on the carpet, showing his ginger belly. Maggie scooped him up. “Well, hello, Fur Face,” she said. “Good to see you, too.”

As Chuck bustled about the kitchen getting the tea ready, Maggie sat down next to David on the library’s sofa. Durgin took a wing chair.

“What happened to the rug?” David asked. “That’s antique, you know.”

Maggie remembered all the blood. “I, er, need to get it cleaned.”

“I know you’ve had a lot going on recently,” David said, “and that’s quite the understatement.”

Maggie caught Durgin’s eye. “You have no idea.”

“I thought about whether to tell you or not, but in the end, I decided it’s best you know, and as soon as possible.”

Oh no, what now?

David patted her hand. “Elise was picked up by SOE agents in Berlin. She was supposed to be taken to Lisbon—but she escaped from our men. She’s on the run now. Just outside Paris.”

Maggie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why would she run away from the SOE? They’re saving her, for goodness’ sake! Doesn’t she understand that?”

“Apparently, she wasn’t particularly happy to be saved.”

“What?”

“Her father—er, your stepfather—er, Miles Hess—was working with our agents, and through his own contacts, he arranged things so she would be released from Ravensbrück. The problem is the Gestapo made her release dependent on her renouncing the priest she’d been working with. They also threatened her fellow prisoners if she didn’t return.”

“Our saving her life may have cost her friends theirs,” Maggie said, suddenly understanding why Elise wouldn’t want to leave Berlin.



“From what I understand,” David continued, “she’s quite familiar with Paris, as her parents—er, your mother and stepfather—keep a flat there.”

“What do you think she intends to do? She has nothing—no French identification, no papers, no ration card….” Maggie’s eyes widened. “The nuns. The nuns will take her in and hide her.” She was standing, with no memory of having risen. “I need to go to Paris!” she exclaimed.

“You can’t just ‘go to Paris.’…”

“It’s not only Elise—there’s an SOE agent who was sent into a hostile situation and left for dead, despite coded messages for help. I think she might be in Paris now”—Maggie’s thoughts clicked into place, and she swayed a bit as more information crowded into her brain, buzzing and urgent—“which is where they’re also sending Sarah and Hugh. But the Paris network is in trouble. SOE may be sending them into a death trap—and they don’t even know!”

Chuck walked in with the tea tray. “Who wants to be mother?”

All three of them froze and stared at her without speaking.

“What?” Chuck demanded, exasperated, as she set down the tray. “Do I have something on my face?”

The three were silent. While David and Durgin were cleared for a high level of security, Chuck wasn’t.

Chuck shot David a warning look. “I’m not going to ask you anything,” she said, “and I’m not going to tell you anything. But if anything happens to Maggie, anything at all—”

From the kitchen came Griffin’s wails. “Mummy’s coming, love!” Chuck called, mumbling “clingy blighter” as she left the room.

“I need to change,” Maggie said. “And pack.”

“This is utterly ridiculous!” David said, following her. “Even for you. And despite your brilliant background in maths, you often defy all logic. What are you going to do for papers?”



But instead of going to her own bedroom, Maggie went to Paige’s old one, where she selected a smart Chanel suit and all of the accompanying accessories. What’s more French than Chanel?

“Easy enough to conjure a fake French identity.” Maggie threw things into a bag. “For me, at least. I’ve done it for dozens of other agents.”

“Well, then how are you going to get there? It’s not as if you can simply swim the Channel. Or flap your wings and fly.”

“Silly David,” Maggie said, looking up at him with affection. “As you well know, there are ways, if you know the right people—”

“Come now, even the P.M. wouldn’t—”

From downstairs Chuck called, “I’m sorry I don’t have anything sweet, but I do have some bread and margarine—”

Maggie came down the stairs with a bag and suitcase, David trailing behind her, still protesting. At the bottom, she kissed Chuck, and then both of Griffin’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” she said. “By the way, Chuck, I believe it’s quite possible a young man named Nicholas Reitter is responsible for tampering with the gas lines of your building and the resulting explosion. He worked for your landlord, Dr. Iain Frank.”