The Queen's Accomplice (Maggie Hope Mystery #6)(76)

“So I hear,” she said, thinking of the Queen. “It’s been a rather busy time. Are you all right?”

“Well, this isn’t a personal call. Well, it is in a way, but—I want to let you know, on behalf of the P.M., our agents in Berlin have your sister. They’re bringing her to Paris and from there to Free France, and then to Madrid and Lisbon and finally to London. Of course I’ll keep you apprised as things go forward.”

Maggie slumped back in her chair, flooded with relief. “She’s out,” she murmured. “She’s really out of that hell. David.” She blinked back tears. “Thank you. And please thank Mr. Churchill for me, too.”

“Will do.”

Maggie wanted to ask if he’d witnessed Max’s arrest, but bit her tongue. As she replaced the receiver in the cradle, she realized it was quiet in the office. Too quiet. Then she heard faint voices spilling out through the high transom window. There was a meeting going on in the conference room.

The SOE staff was discussing one of F-Section’s Paris networks, code-named Prosper.

“The rules are changing,” she heard Miss Lynd drawl. “Since the laws changed, all young men in France are liable to be arrested. They’re not classified as ‘essential workers.’?”



“What happens to them?” Maggie heard Brody say.

“They’re sent to Germany as forced laborers—and we all know what that really means. Women, however, can invent any number of cover stories to travel and arouse little suspicion. I suggest we begin training even more women to be sent over, as our male agents are sitting ducks. Even with the proper paperwork, they raise suspicions.”

“Miss Lynd, I asked you to solve the so-called woman problem, not make it worse,” Colonel Gaskell cautioned.

“Colonel,” she replied crisply, “you asked me for my help and this is it. I know you’re not pleased with seeing women in combat, but the reality is, right now in France, women can accomplish things far more easily, and in more relative safety, than men.”

“Fine,” Gaskell retorted, obviously displeased. “For now, at least. What else do we have on the agenda today?”

“We have two new agents going into Paris with the full moon,” Miss Lynd explained. “Sarah Sanderson, who is now Madame Sabine Severin, and Hugh Thompson, code-named Hubert Taillier.”

As if reading Maggie’s mind, Brody asked, “Any news on Erica Calvert?”

“Reports say she’s been spotted in Paris. But it’s hard to get any confirmed information,” Gaskell admitted.

“So our agent’s in Paris, without the benefit of a network?” Miss Lynd asked, her voice sharpening. “We need to get her out!”

“Calm yourself, Miss Lynd! These two new agents—Severin and Taillier—can get us a better picture.”

“I’m not comfortable with two inexperienced agents being sent in blind,” Miss Lynd insisted.

This is Sarah and Hugh they’re talking about! Suddenly Maggie knew what Durgin meant about his “gut.” Something is very, very wrong.



Miss Lynd continued, “My feeling is we should keep Severin and Taillier here until we have a better picture of how Prosper’s faring. And we must make plans for an extraction of Agent Calvert. The materials she has are vital to the war effort. To see a world in a grain of sand—I don’t know the exact nature of her mission, of course, but if it’s to do with the geology of France’s northwest coastline, it must be of vital importance to those planning the invasion.”

Listening to make sure the meeting was still going on, Maggie picked up the telephone receiver again and dialed Beaulieu, waiting impatiently for the dial to stop clicking. “Yes, I need to get a message to Sarah Sanderson. It’s Maggie Hope. Yes, please ask her to call me. And yes, it’s an emergency.” If Sarah and Hugh were really still being sent to France, they deserved to know the whole story before they left. There were definitely problems in the Prosper network.

A niggling worry wouldn’t leave her in anything resembling peace. She took out Erica Calvert’s folder and looked once more at the message:



And, once more, she translated the Morse code into plain text:

Hello!

Everything good here. Left Rouen. Please remember mother’s birthday with gift. Mission going well.

Erica Calvert





Something was off, she knew it. Is it your “gut,” Hope? She chewed absently on a pencil eraser. No, she thought. It’s years of experience with codes and working as an agent behind enemy lines myself.

She squinted at the sentences, taking them one by one.

Hello!

Everything good here.

Left Rouen.

Please remember mother’s birthday with gift.

Mission going well.

Erica Calvert

The first letter of every sentence, taken together, spelled out HELP ME.

The message was a call for help. It was there, in code—and, once unbroken, plain as day. Her heart began to race. HELP ME—God only knew what was happening to Erica now.

The door opened and the group filed out. “Ah, Meggie, you’re back,” Gaskell muttered. “Terrific. Fetch me a cuppa, would you? Thank you, dear girl.”

“Colonel Gaskell,” she said, paper with the broken code in hand, “I’ve gone over Erica Calvert’s last message to us again. There’s a hidden message. In code.”