His Majesty's Hope(100)
Mr. Greene couldn’t take any more of this. “You’ll be arrested! And worse …”
“I appreciate your concern, Papa, I really do. But Freddie and I are careful. There are a lot of us in London, who are very, very careful. And we can live good lives, productive lives.” He thought of Kay and Daphne. “Happy lives.”
“Oh, David …” Mrs. Greene wept, reaching out to stroke his hair.
“I’m sorry, but this is the kind of life I choose for myself, no matter what the consequences.” He turned over. “And now I’d like to get some sleep, please.”
Back in London, after being debriefed and taking a few days to recover, Maggie knew what she had to do. There was no question who she wanted: John. And there was no question that the proper thing to do, before things with John proceeded any further, was to break things off with Hugh.
She called and asked him to meet her at a neutral spot—the Caxton Bar at St. Ermin’s, a Queen Anne–style hotel in Westminster. She arrived early and sat at a small table. Hugh came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hello, Maggie,” he said in her ear.
In one movement, she stood and turned—ready to take him down. The other patrons in the bar looked up and fell silent.
“It’s just me.” Hugh held up his hands and smiled. “Sorry to startle you.”
“Of course,” Maggie said, relaxing and embracing him. They kissed cheeks and sat. A waiter came by, and they ordered pink gins. As the silence between them grew, Maggie took a cigarette and lighter from her purse.
“Since when do you smoke?” Hugh asked.
“Since I returned from Berlin,” she said, lighting up.
The silence turned uncomfortable. “I’m glad to see you, Hugh,” Maggie said finally, resting her cigarette in the ashtray. Her wound ached and she was struggling not to cry. This would not be easy.
The waiter set down their drinks. “Thanks,” Hugh told him. “And I’m glad to see you, too. I was worried.”
“I was doing”—Maggie picked up the cigarette again and tapped ashes into the lead-crystal ashtray—“my job. It just happened to take a bit longer than expected.”
Another awkward silence. Hugh sipped his drink. “So,” he said. “I hear John’s alive. Good for him.”
“Yes. Finding that out was quite a shock. Along with many, many shocks.”
“I heard about that, too. You met your half sister. And now Clara Hess is in British custody.”
Maggie smiled wanly. “And I hear you had a little something to do with that. I didn’t realize you were quite so … photogenic. I would love to have seen the look on her face when she saw those photos you sent.”
Hugh cleared his throat and loosened his tie. “Er, yes, well—” He picked up his pink gin. “Probably not my ‘finest hour.’ ”
“I don’t know,” Maggie disagreed. “You didn’t exactly follow protocol, but it was immensely satisfying, I’m sure.” She smiled. “I wish I could have been there.”
“Me, too.” Hugh grinned. “It was amazing. Of course, now I’m unemployed. Masterman very nearly sent me to the Tower of London to be beheaded. He was apoplectic.”
“What about Frain—surely he’ll take you back? You and Mark could be together again—I’m sure he’s missed you.”
“Alas, no—I can’t go back to MI-Five. My ‘reckless behavior’ and ‘letting the personal get in the way of the professional’ has me blacklisted in Intelligence now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“What will you do?”
“Join the army, most likely.” Hugh arched an eyebrow. “Or maybe the Royal Air Force. Pilots are popular with the ladies these days, you know.”
Maggie bit her lip. She’d forgotten how handsome he was. But she couldn’t falter now … “That’s something we need to talk about—”
“Look, Maggie,” Hugh said, taking her hand. “Do what you need to do. I don’t want to stand in your way.”
Maggie’s eyes swam with tears. “You were never in the way, Hugh.”
“You need to see where things are with John. If you didn’t, I’d always feel like your second choice.”
“You could never, ever, be second anything, Hugh,” she protested fervently. “I want you to know that.” She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her drink. She stood up, kissed his cheek, and left.
Hugh opened his mouth, as if to say more, then closed it. He sat back, then shook his head, swallowing hard. “First no job, and now no girl. Perfect,” he muttered. “Bloody perfect.”