“Leave the country?” David said, surprised.
“It’s possible,” Snodgrass said. “A boat to Ireland. Boat with a predetermined submarine pickup. Perhaps a plane flying under the radar to France, then another to Germany.”
They all took a moment to consider the possibilities.
“By the way,” Snodgrass said to John, catching his eye in the rearview mirror, “good work breaking that code.”
“Sir, it wasn’t me,” John said from the backseat. “It was Maggie. Maggie broke it.”
Snodgrass permitted himself a smile. “She did? Good for her.”
“Maggie?” David said.
“Yes. She noticed the code embedded in the advert a few days ago and showed it to me. To tell the truth, at the time I didn’t think it was anything. She called me around five today saying she’d broken it. That’s when I realized Mr. Churchill was in danger and went down to his office—”
“Where Claire had a gun on you,” Snodgrass said.
David started. “Who’s Claire?”
“Paige,” John answered.
“Paige?” David turned in his seat to face John. “No, Claire.”
“Paige is Claire.”
“No, Paige is Paige.”
John sighed. “Paige is really Claire.”
“Holy Hera.” David looked into the blackness out the window and considered. “And Maggie figured it out? And didn’t tell me?”
“No. I mean yes. She figured out the assassination attempt but doesn’t have any idea that it was Paige. Claire, I mean. Or that Paige is Claire.”
“If you two are finished,” Snodgrass thundered, “we still have the matter at hand to take care of!”
“Well, then, who’s Malcolm Pierce?” David asked meekly, eyes on the road. “Besides an undercover agent.”
“We’ve identified him as Albrecht von Leyen,” Snodgrass said. “He was born at the London Hospital in Whitechapel in 1901 to Wolfgang von Leyen, a diplomat and wealthy Prussian aristocrat. His mother, Emily Ainsworth, was an English debutante. The family lived in London until the Great War, then moved back to Berlin. The mother died of lung cancer in Prussia in 1920. Meanwhile, Wolfgang and young Albrecht moved around quite a bit after the war, including another stint in London. In 1937, von Leyen vanished. We can only speculate what happened—that he underwent Abwehr training and was sent back to London under an assumed name, Malcolm Pierce.”
“And he’s able to pass for British,” David said, tapping the brakes and swerving to avoid a deer stopped in the road.
“Von Leyen allegedly died in a hiking accident in the Alps,” John said. “His body was never recovered. Meanwhile, a man named Malcolm Pierce dies alone and destitute at Bethlem Royal Hospital. Von Leyen assumed his identity and became Malcolm Pierce, ordinary British citizen. Of course, he joined that Fascist group, the Saturday Club, in order to make connections with like-minded British citizens.”
“That’s how we found him,” Snodgrass added. “And that’s how he was able to make contact with Miss Kelly and her handler. He’s working with them to coordinate their attacks.”
David turned back to look at John. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I have clearance,” John said, looking out the window and not meeting David’s eyes.
“So do I.”
“Mine’s higher-level than yours.”
“Prat,” David said, swerving to avoid a fallen tree branch.
“Boys, this isn’t some sort of Oxbridge club where everything is debated over port and cigars,” Snodgrass snapped. “We all work for the Prime Minister. We all handle sensitive information on a need-to-know basis.”
“And apparently John needs to know more than I do,” David said, sniffing, looking at John in the rearview mirror.
Snodgrass sighed. “Britain is doomed.”
“Almost ready,” Pierce said, stoking the red-and-orange fire with a heavy iron poker.
Edmund struggled in his bonds, but Roger had tied them too well. Pierce continued to poke at the fire with one hand while keeping his drawn pistol pointed at Edmund with the other. “Roger,” he said. “Tend to the girl.”
Roger came up behind Maggie and placed both hands on her shoulders. Then, stroking the back of her neck, said, “Now, you be a good little thing and we won’t have any trouble.” Her flesh crawled at his touch.
“Roger!” Leticia hissed.
“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hands. “Getting into the spirit is all.”
“Leave her alone,” Edmund said. “Look, take me—I’ll tell you anything—everything. But let her stay; let her live. She’s no threat to you.”