Journey to Munich Read Online Free PDF

go? She assumed he must be quite new to the work, and thus was endeavoringto be seen as more adult by speaking to her as if she were a child. She could not wait to leave.
    â€œThis is it, Miss Dobbs. I am sure you will agree that it is a beautifully appointed residence. Fresh decoration and a new kitchen—the owner has made a significant investment to attract the right tenant.”
    â€œI was really thinking of making a purchase, Mr. Watson.”
    â€œKeep an open mind until you’ve seen this property, Miss Dobbs.” Watson inserted a second key, turned the handle, and pushed open the door into a small entrance hall flooded with light. The drawing room windows before her, which looked out onto the street. The smell of fresh paint and new carpet was strong, and for a second Maisie held her hand to her nose.
    â€œNote the small but airy entrance, leading straight into the drawing room. A warm welcome for guests—and the view is a pleasing one.”
    Maisie felt a chill in the air around her, and wondered why estate agents didn’t ensure a property was at least warm when a potential resident entered. She felt unsettled. What might have come to pass in this flat; what past sadnesses lingered in the fabric of the building? The sensation that she and Hugo Watson were not alone rendered the very air around them heavy. Her chest tightened, and she coughed.
    She turned to Watson. “Is there someone else here?”
    â€œI—I—beg your pardon?”
    â€œI had a feeling that we were not alone, Mr. Watson. Is someone else in the flat?”
    Watson looked at his feet as the sound of a door opening caused Maisie to turn around.
    â€œI’m sorry, Maisie—it was the only way to see you face-to-face.” The voice was deep, its mid-Atlantic rhythm giving away the identity ofthe man who stepped into the drawing room through a doorway to the right. “How sharp of you to know that someone else was here.”
    Maisie felt color rush to her cheeks, and she struggled to keep her voice calm. “Mr. Otterburn. I might have known you would find a way to see me.” She turned to Watson. “And to think I put your manner down to first-day-on-the-job nerves. You’ll have to answer for this breach of my privacy, Mr. Watson.”
    â€œI—I—but . . .” Watson could not even stutter his words.
    Maisie turned to leave. “Oh, just leave me alone—both of you.”
    â€œMaisie—stop! I need your help. Lorraine and I—we’re desperate.” Otterburn’s voice was strained.
    Maisie turned to face the man she held responsible for her husband’s death. The shock of witnessing the small experimental fighter aircraft James was testing fall to earth over farmland in Canada, had led Maisie to lose the child she was expecting; her daughter had been delivered stillborn, and Maisie bore physical scars of the fight to save the babe’s life and her own. James should not even have been flying. Otterburn’s two children—both adults—were accomplished aviators, and his indulged daughter, Elaine, was rostered to be in the cockpit that day. Instead, she was nursing a hangover, so James had stepped up in her place.
    And now John Otterburn had used his contacts to corner Maisie.
    Watson slipped out of the flat as she faced her nemesis. She noted the gray pallor, the drawn look to his face, the bluish pockets under his eyes.
    â€œI wish I could have met you in a different place, Maisie. Somewhere we could sit in comfort.”
    â€œThere is no comfort for me in your presence, Mr. Otterburn.” She walked to the window. Outside, trees bare of leaves were picking up acold wind, blowing back and forth. It seemed to Maisie as if they were fingering the sky, scratching toward bulbous gray clouds to bring rain. She turned back to Otterburn and sighed. “You might as well tell me what this is all about. Then we can be done with