on the door. The major ignored it, but a moment later the door slid open and the glum-faced man who worked at the front of the office looked in. He’d been sitting there tonight when we’d come in, though I think one look at the major’s face had been enough to keep him from asking us any questions.
“I’ve made tea,” he said, pushing the door open a bit more. I saw that he was holding a tray.
I glanced at Major Ramsey, but he didn’t acknowledge the young man.
So I rose from the chair and went to take it from him. “Thank you.”
He nodded, his gaze moving back to the major before he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. I had an impression he was afraid of Major Ramsey. Not that I entirely blamed him at the moment. The major did look fierce. I suspected he might be something of a tyrant when crossed.
Well, I wasn’t afraid of tyrants.
I set the tray on the corner of the desk and poured myself a cup of tea. I gave myself one large spoonful of sugar and then, after a slight pause, another. I supposed the government owed me that much after what I’d been through tonight.
“How do you take yours, Major?” I asked. I’d been too focused on my steak and kidney pie at the pub to notice if he liked milk or sugar.
He turned and looked at me as though I had lost my mind. “I beg your pardon?”
“How do you take your tea?” I repeated slowly.
“I don’t want any tea,” he snapped, turning his back to resume his pacing.
This was a very different side of Major Ramsey. Always before he had been calm and composed. This tightly wound gentleman was something else altogether. I found I was more comfortable with this version of him than I was with the other. High temper I knew how to deal with. I’d had enough practice with Uncle Mick and the boys over the years.
“You’re not going to do any good to anyone by wearing out the rug,” I said.
He stopped and turned, his pale gaze boring into mine. I recognized it was his way of giving me a setdown without saying anything.
Obviously, Major Ramsey was not much used to criticism. I supposed this came from his military rank and what seemed to be a natural confidence, probably inherited along with those good looks and a good family name. With all of that at a man’s disposal, most people were bound to bend to his will.
Most, but not all. “I know you’re angry,” I said, “but pacing won’t do you any good and tea will.”
He stared at me. “I’m … angry?” he repeated.
I nodded. “It’s been a rubbish night, but I know anger is the foremost emotion in your mind. You don’t like having your plans foiled.”
He swore beneath his breath at my analysis of his character. To be fair, I probably would have done the same if the situations were reversed.
“The fate of our country may hang in the balance,” he said, his voice severe.
“So you mentioned,” I said. “But there’s nothing to say that we can’t get the papers back.”
“Oh, we’ll get them back.” There was a different set to his mouth now, something harder. “I had just hoped we would be able to do things the easy way.”
I knew what he meant. They would have to kill to get them back.
I found I wasn’t shocked by the idea. Maybe I should have been, but I knew well enough what was done in times like these, that lives were taken much more easily in wartime than in a time of peace. And, after all, whoever had the papers now had already killed to get them.
“Perhaps there’s still a way,” I mused. “To do it without anyone knowing.”
“After what’s been done, it isn’t likely we can maintain the element of surprise or substitute the false documents without the Germans knowing about it. At best, we can hope to prevent the originals from getting into the wrong hands. Somehow our plan has been blown all to pieces, and it’s left for us to collect the bits and make some sense of them.”
“Who do you think killed him?” I asked. “Was it a German agent?”
If that was the case, it seemed the papers were already lost. After all, the murdered man had been dead some time; the killer could be well on his way back to Germany with the documents by