“It’s a simple matter of collateral,” he said evenly. “Surely you understand that.”
I was trembling now, and trying very hard not to let him see. “I’ll write out a confession. You can keep that as collateral.”
“Less effective than keeping your uncle, I think.” His eyes were on mine, and I knew he was reading every bit of emotion in them. My mind was whirling, and the temper I had worked so hard to control since I was a girl was in danger of erupting.
Meanwhile, the major sat across from me with no expression. He was completely in command of the situation, and I was beginning to come apart at the seams. That would not do at all. I martialed every last bit of my self-control and tamped down my growing panic.
“It was my uncle who opened the safe,” I said in the most level tone I could manage. “I don’t know how. I only accompanied him as a lookout.”
“You’ll find, Miss McDonnell, that lying to me will never get you very far. I know you’re perfectly capable of doing it. Your uncle has told me as much.”
I mentally chided Uncle Mick for giving that away. It was like him, of course, trying to help me in any way he could. But, by rights, he should be the one to do it.
“He’s better than me,” I said honestly. “Let him help you, and keep me here.”
“That’s very noble of you, but I doubt your uncle would permit it.”
He was right, of course. Uncle Mick would want me to do the job rather than remaining locked up. He would refuse to leave me here.
I looked up at the major and saw that he was waiting patiently for my answer.
“You might have told us that my uncle was to remain here before you took him away,” I said bitterly. “We might have discussed it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” he said. “Will you do it or not?”
I realized then that separating me from Uncle Mick before revealing he was to remain a prisoner had all been part of the plan. The major had meant to throw me off guard, to make me realize how little choice I had in any of this. The maddening part of it all was that I knew he was going to get his way in the end. He had all the power, after all.
“Very well,” I said at last.
He took a slip of paper and a pen from his pocket and scrawled something on the paper before sliding it across the desk toward me. His handwriting was like his personality: bold yet precise.
“Ring this number tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll tell you where you might meet me to discuss the details.”
“This is rather cloak-and-dagger stuff, isn’t it?” I asked sarcastically.
“I’m afraid the enemy’s moved beyond cloaks and daggers to swastikas and tanks, Miss McDonnell. We’re just trying to keep up.”
* * *
The car that had brought me to that place—the dungeon was how I now thought of it, for, as grand as it was, it was linked in my mind with the detaining and coercing of prisoners and deserved the epithet—dropped me off at my flat shortly before dawn. I had thought of refusing a ride to maintain my privacy, but there was no doubt they already knew my address. They knew everything else about me, after all.
I went through the front gate and passed the house where Uncle Mick lived, taking the path through the kitchen garden on the side, and went to the little building that rested behind the house. It had been a stable once upon a time but had been converted into a comfortable little flat that Uncle Mick had given me for my own.
Hurrying inside, I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. It had been less than twenty-four hours since I had been here last, but somehow it felt like an eternity. Perhaps it was the reality that I might never have returned that made it all seem so precious to me somehow.
I glanced around the familiar surroundings: the worn but comfortable blue sofa with the pillows Nacy had embroidered, the writing desk and chair, the rug with its cheery pattern of blue and yellow flowers. I had a new appreciation for all of it. The windows were covered now, of course, my bookcases moved in front of them to keep glass from coming into the room in the event of a bombing. I’d