“Hmph,” John said, looking up from the tight glow of light from the lamp, embarrassed at being caught at just that.
“Well, don’t wait too long,” David said, pulling out a manila folder and flipping through the pages inside. “She’s smart and pretty—and far too good for the likes of you.”
“No time for that sort of nonsense,” John said. “If you haven’t noticed—”
David rolled his eyes.
“—there’s a war on.”
David grinned. “My point exactly.”
After work, back at home, Maggie rang David, who was still working late at the office.
“I have a favor to ask,” she said.
“Your wish is my command,” David replied, sitting down at his desk chair.
“Feel like getting out of the city?”
David pushed aside a pile of papers. “And get away from the bombing? Always.”
“Road trip to Cambridge?”
“Cambridge? What’s there?”
Maggie was silent for a moment. What did she actually expect to find? “I don’t know, really. Ghosts, maybe? With luck, an answer or two.” She nervously twisted the coiled black telephone cord. “Interested?”
“An answer or two about what, Maggie?”
“It’s about my father,” she said. “I think—well, I think there’s a possibility that he might be alive.”
“Alive?” David said.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I at least want to investigate the possibility. Ask some questions. And Trinity College at Cambridge seems like a logical next place to go.”
David looked up at the clock. “Give me a couple of hours to finish,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“You’re a wonderful, wonderful man,” Maggie exclaimed. “You really are.”
“I know. See you soon.”
When David replaced the black receiver, John looked over. “Was that Maggie?”
“You know it was, old boy.” David leaned toward him and smirked. “Jealous?”
John snorted. “Hardly. So”—he stood up from his desk chair and came around to sit on the edge of David’s desk—“you’re going to Cambridge, then?”
“Indeed, old boy,” David said. “Why she doesn’t want to go to Oxford is beyond me, but—”
“What’s in Cambridge?”
“Why, what do you care?” David said. “It’s not like you’re mooning, is it?”
“David—this is important. Why does Maggie want to go to Cambridge?”
David sighed. “It’s something about her father. Probably nothing. But if it helps her feel better …”
John jumped to his feet and walked quickly to the door.
“Where are you off to?” David called after him.
“Just remembered something,” John called back. “Go on.”
“Great bloody Odin, is everyone losing his bleeding mind?” David muttered, turning back to his notes. Men and women. He’d never understand them.
John burst into Snodgrass’s office.
“She knows!”
Looking up from the files on his large oak desk, Mr. Snodgrass said mildly, “Mr. Sterling, would you kindly remember to knock first, please?”
John shut the door behind him and then said, in a lower tone, “She knows.”
“Who knows?” Snodgrass said. “Who knows what?”
“Maggie. She knows.”
“What exactly does she know?”
“I’m not sure. But she’s on her way to Cambridge.”
“All right, then.” Snodgrass lowered his pen, smoothed his comb-over, and picked up the green telephone receiver. “Then we have work to do.”
“Nice car,” Maggie said, settling into the smooth leather seat of David’s Citroën as the car purred through blacked-out London.
“My poor baby,” David said. “The rubbish that passes for petrol these days will be the death of her.” He was dressed casually in a white open-neck shirt, navy jacket, and gray-flannel trousers.
There was a comfortable silence as they drove in the silky black—only the moon and the dim light peeking through the slotted headlight covers provided illumination.
“It really was good of you to drive me to Cambridge tonight. By staying over, you’re using one of your only days off.”
David patted Maggie’s hand. “As you are, Magster. Glad to do it. Besides, it’s raising my profile at the office, you know—escorting a pretty girl …”
She punched his arm.
“Ouch!”
“Love tap,” she said. “Now, we need a plan for when we get to Cambridge. Settle into the rooms at the University Arms hotel, then head for Trinity.”