“As we sail to the United States, our new ally, we both literally and metaphorically are raising our Anchor and venturing forth into a new chapter of the war.
“And so I must have Miss Hope, my metaphorical anchor. Plus, I trust her to type decently. And tell me of the quaint American customs and verbiage of which I may not be aware. Hope shall be part typist, part diplomatic adviser, and all secret agent.”
David and John exchanged looks. “I’ll see what I can do,” David said.
The Prime Minister blinked and dropped below the surface of the water, blowing bubbles.
“So, how do we get Maggie back?” John said.
“You, my friend,” David replied, inspired, “shall go to Scotland, in person. You shall procure Miss Hope for the P.M.!”
John recoiled. “I? She hates me.”
“Oh, jumping Jove, I sincerely doubt that. And even if she does, you must change her mind. It’s about time you two kissed and made up.”
“Maggie won’t come with me.”
“Well, throw her over your shoulder caveman-style if you must. ‘I must have Hope with me in the New World!’ says our fearless leader. Do you really want to be the one to tell the P.M. no?”
“Then you should go to Scotland. She still likes you. She’ll listen to you,” John insisted.
“Oh, but I’m not going. As I said, you’re the one who’s going to journey off to the Highlands of Scotland and return with our own bonnie wee secretary.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “Caveman-style?”
“Well, it’s about time you two were reunited. I never understood why you two didn’t just have at it.”
“I … She … We …” Then, “No, no, I’m not going.”
David took a moment to examine his fingernails. “So dreadfully sorry to bring this up, John, but I outrank you now. And if the Boss wants you to go fetch Miss Hope, you’re going. It’s your duty to God and King. And Prime Minister.”
John muttered something.
“What was that? Didn’t quite hear.”
“Nothing,” John grumbled. “I’ll return with our Girl Friday.”
“Good, because I’ve already made your train reservations. Merciful Minerva! You’ll need to hurry if you want to make it to Euston on time!”
Chapter Twenty-two
Maggie was with the others in the main conference room at Arisaig House when Germany formally declared war against the United States, with Reich Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop delivering a diplomatic note to the American Chargé d’Affaires in Berlin.
Now Hitler was addressing the Reichstag. “… After years of negotiating with the deceiver Roosevelt, the Japanese government finally had its fill of being treated in such a humiliating way. All of us, the German people and, I believe, all other decent people around the world as well, regard this with deep appreciation …”
“Turn the blighter off!” Charlie called from across the table.
But they listened to the full version of the Führer’s rant before breaking for cups of tea. Maggie saw Satoshi and went to him. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You look a bit peaked.”
“Do you remember my telling you that my parents live in Berkeley? Well, I’m worried about them.”
“But your father’s a physics professor … And you’re here, helping train British agents. Obviously …”
“But it’s not obvious to the U.S. government. All the Japanese in America have been ordered to pack a single bag and be ready for transport at any time in the next few months. My family, and everyone that I love back home, is being sent to internment camps.”
“Internment camps?” Maggie blinked. Internment camps—in the United States?
Satoshi sighed. “That’s what we hear.”
“Where?”
“Rumor has it they’re building in the southwest.”
“Is there any evidence of any Fifth Column activity?”
He started. “Well, certainly not in my family.”
“No, of course not,” Maggie said. “I’m truly, truly sorry.”
When Maggie returned to her cottage, she saw a dark figure on the steps to her flat. Above, the stars burned blue.
“Sarah?” she called. “Did you forget your key?”
But the figure was a man. It was John Sterling.
Maggie had imagined him so many times it took her a few blinks to realize it was actually him, not a daydream.
He held out his hand, revealing something that glinted in the moonlight. “You left these at my flat.”
“You came all the way to Scotland to return my earrings?” she said, trying to ignore the shock of longing she felt at the sight of him. That he was wearing his RAF coat and hat certainly wasn’t helping matters.