D-Notice by Bill Walker (books to read for self improvement txt) 📕

a foghorn blatting in the distance. A quick glance at the Peugeot’s clock brought him fully awake.

11:40.

Sitting up, he raised the seat back, then shook Erika. She groaned then bolted awake, her eyes wide with sudden terror. “What, what?” she said, breathless.

Michael kept his eyes focused on the ferry, barely discernible through the gloom. “It’s almost time. We should be going.”

He grabbed for the door and Erika stopped him with a hand on his arm, the warmth of her flesh like a knife in his heart.

“What’s the matter, Michael? Ever since we left Bonn, you’ve been treating me like dirt.”

He faced her and saw the pleading in her eyes.

“Nothing’s the matter. Let’s go.”

He climbed out of the car, slammed the door and marched off toward the ferry.

Cursing under her breath, Erika leapt out of the car, leaving the door wide open, and ran after him.

“I deserve better than this!” she said, halting him in his tracks. He whirled, his face twisted in anger.

“You deserve better? Piss off! You’ve lied to me from the very beginning.”

“What are you talking about?”

He moved to her, his face inches from hers. “Jarmann told me.... Rainer didn’t have a daughter. Never did! So, who the fuck are you?”

She began to sob, a flood of tears cascading down her cheeks. For all his anger, he felt a stab of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I couldn’t tell you...and I wanted to...so much.”

She threw herself into his arms and a part of him wanted to return her desperate embrace, to soothe her, to make this nightmare disappear. Instead, he stood there, stock still, his arms at his side. Sensing his reticence, she pulled back and looked up at him.

“I deserve that...I know. I promise you I’ll tell you everything. But we haven’t time, now. We have to make the ferry. Your mother. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Do you believe that?”

Strangely enough, he did.

“Yes,” he said.

Erika took his hand and they dashed to buy their tickets for the ferry when the Klaxon sounded for final boarding.

They made it aboard only moments before the massive craft pulled away from the dock. They had the lower deck to themselves and the fog, which closed in on them like a giant shroud. The foghorn howled, sounding closer. With a quick turn of his head, Michael surveyed their surroundings, then nodded toward a set of stairs.

“The aft deck is above us. I want you to head for the bridge and tell the captain what’s happening. He’ll be able to radio ahead.”

“I want to stay with you,” she said, anxiety creeping into her voice.

“No. I don’t know if I should even trust you. But I love you. I must be bloody daft.... Will you do what I ask?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a love. Now, give me the letter.”

She handed him the letter, and Michael kissed her, a quick peck on the forehead. A moment later she disappeared up the stairwell. Michael realized that he was taking a big risk, perhaps a fatal one. If she betrayed him, he would not only lose the letter, but his mother, and his own life, as well. But what other choice did he have?

None.

He waited five minutes then climbed the stairs to the main deck. It appeared to be as deserted as the lower deck. He wondered, for a fleeting horror-filled moment, if perhaps they’d gotten on the wrong ferry. And then a soft feminine voice called from out of the gloom.

“Michael? Have you got the letter?”

He took a step forward, then stopped, unsure from where the voice originated. “Mother? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, dear.”

Four figures loomed out of the fog. He recognized his mother, her face looking haggard and strained. She was flanked by two elderly men, one with a wounded hand and the other holding a silenced pistol. A third man brought up the rear. This one was considerably younger, and had a wary, watchful look about him. He also carried a silenced pistol.

The older man with the gun spoke up. “At last, we meet face to face.”

Michael recognized the voice as belonging to the man on the phone. “Will you tell me who you are?”

“But of course, please forgive my lack of manners.” He clicked his heels and bowed slightly from the waist. To Michael the old-world gesture would have been comic had the situation been other than it was. “I am Comrade General Werner Mueller, Director of what you call Stasi.”

“Why not tell him who you really are, Gruppenführer?” the wounded man said.

A dark cloud passed over Mueller’s face, replaced immediately by an ironic smile. “And this outspoken gentleman is none other than Comrade Pavel Hedeon, head of KGB-Britain.” Mueller nodded toward Lillian. “This elegant lady...you already know.”

“Let’s just cut to it, shall we? You want this letter, why?” Michael asked.

Mueller chuckled. “My, my, such fortitude. Perhaps I have underestimated you, Herr Thorley. I should think my motives would be obvious. This letter will destroy the Bolsheviks. It may not happen immediately, but alliances will fall, and so then the Motherland. Germany will reunite, and our cause will be resurrected.”

“Nazi swine! Tell him the truth!” Hedeon screamed.

“The truth? Yes, let us do that. But first, the letter....”

Michael clutched the letter to his chest involuntarily, prompting Mueller to place the gun to Lillian’s head.

“The letter. Or I shall kill her.... Then again, perhaps you will not mind if I end the life of a Russian agent.”

“What!”

Like so many times in the past few days, Michael felt the world he knew shifting beneath his feet. He turned to his mother and saw the despair