The Queen's Accomplice (Maggie Hope Mystery #6)(69)

Fausten looked everywhere but her eyes. “His Holiness protested the deportation of non-Aryan Christians in the Netherlands—and forty thousand were rounded up and sent to concentration camps. Every time he speaks out, more die. What if he protests again? Does he want that on his conscience?”

“The Nazis have been the worst thing possible for our country. Tell me somewhere deep down inside, you know. You know we as a people are better than this.”

Fausten looked around. But no one was in hearing distance as they walked past the wooded edge of the Tiergarten; there was only the sound of the occasional car and horse-drawn cart passing. “I am but one man. What can I do?” They crossed Unter der Linden, the snowflakes falling thicker and faster.



“You could desert,” said Elise. “Go into hiding.”

“I have no wish to hide, like an animal, never having a moment’s peace.” Fausten brushed snow from his coat. “And I know what the camps are like. I have no wish to end up there. And neither should you.”

“What did you see in the concentration camp?” Elise asked, spotting a chink in his armor. “What did you do?”

“I—I did what I was told,” he said curtly. “And I was rewarded with my current position here in Berlin.” There was silence as Elise realized what he must have been part of.

He went on, “Please…Renounce your Father Licht for the sake of your survival! Then you can stay here. To go back to Ravensbrück is certain death for you, you must realize. We should obey orders—to hate the deviants and the Jews.”

“So, you don’t really hate them? The so-called deviants and the Jews?”

Fausten took a breath. “I loved a Jewish girl once. She was taken away—Dachau, probably. I pray, for her sake, she is dead.”

“Ah, so you do have a heart! And, possibly, a soul.”

“Villains are never the villains to themselves, Fr?ulein. Remember, to my mother, I am a hero. She would say, ‘My son, he was an excellent student, graduated first in his class. He plays the violin badly, but I’m deaf in one ear and just turn away. He was going to become a lawyer before the war.’ She is proud.

“Then one day I was conscripted. Sent to training camp, taught how to kill. I had no choice. Now she is proud because I wear a uniform that brings our family respect. I do a job that gives me enough money to take care of her.”



“There is always a choice.”

“No. There isn’t!” Fausten’s eyes flashed with anger. Elise could feel it radiate off him, like heat. “Not all of us are willing to die for our ideals! I am not willing to die! I’m not willing to see my mother rounded up and sent to a camp. I want to be a part of the Germany that rebuilds itself. Eventually. See past the uniform, Elise. I didn’t choose it.”

They had reached the entrance of the Adlon. The doorman touched his hand to his cap. “Let me take you to the cinema,” Fausten said.

“Is that an order?” Elise asked.

“No.” He looked pained. “It is your choice. I respect your free will.”

Elise was silent.

“I will be at the Ufa-Palast am Zoo for the two o’clock matinee. I will stand outside the theater with two tickets. And I hope you will come and meet me.”

The hotel lobby’s warm, perfumed air seeped out toward her. Inside, concierges in gold braid whispered assurances to guests and rang tiny brass bells. Bellhops pushed Rimowa suitcases and Louis Vuitton trunks over the polished marble floors. It’s so easy, this world, Elise thought. So protected.

“Good day, Fr?ulein Hess,” Fausten said.

She waited for him to salute and say the seemingly inevitable “Heil Hitler!”

He didn’t.





Chapter Thirteen


Miss Lynd of Baker Street had arrived in Beaulieu wrapped in furs and scented with Jicky.

She knew Sarah and Hugh—Madame Sabine Severin and Monsieur Hubert Taillier—had been busy. Agents at the Finishing School learned evasion techniques by being shadowed by instructors around local towns such as Bournemouth, Southampton, and Portsmouth. They had also practiced shadowing other trainees, in and out of department stores and shops in the towns.

Miss Lynd settled herself in Kim Philby’s office, with a view of three shaggy ponies chewing on the grass lawn, and waited until the two trainees knocked at the door. “Come in!” she called. She continued in French, “I’m pleased to say all of your instructors have given you excellent reports. How are you two feeling?”

“It’s all a bit unreal,” Sarah confided, as they both took seats. “But thank goodness muscle memory is helping. And for Hugh, as well.”

Miss Lynd nodded. “It will be real soon enough. You’ve been cleared to go during this full moon. Everyone feels you’re ready. And you’re needed in Paris.”

Sarah leaned forward. “Can you tell us anything more about our mission?”

“I’m sorry,” Miss Lynd said, not sounding sorry at all, “but you’ll have to wait until you arrive in France. Your SOE liaison there will have further instructions for you.” She studied them, her eyes kind. “As we’ve been saying from the beginning, it’s a dangerous mission. You have time to change your mind—and we won’t hold it against you.”