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

Fumbling with his own gun, Franz attempted to intervene and was rewarded by another shot ringing out of the darkness. The bullet tore off half of his head.

Hedeon used the moment to go for the pistol, beating Mueller to it by mere inches. Snatching it up, he placed the barrel against Mueller’s stomach and pulled the trigger.

“Father!” Erika tried to stand up.

Mueller groaned and collapsed, bright arterial blood pumping from his wound. Hedeon drew himself to his full height, a look of triumph spreading across his face. Behind him, Michael saw two men standing in the shadows, one of them clutching a rifle in his hands.

“It looks as if the tables have turned, my boy,” Hedeon said. He then turned to Lillian, who stood rooted to the deck, a look of horror on her face. “I have long suspected you, my love,” he continued. “And you are right—I refused to see the truth of it...of everything. It is an unfortunate failing we Russians have always had to live with. But you, Ninotchka, have committed the unpardonable sin.... You have betrayed Russia.”

A look of sadness crept across the Russian’s craggy face when he turned the gun on Lillian. For one breathless moment, it looked as if he might pull the trigger. Instead, he tossed the pistol straight up into the air, caught it by the barrel then offered it to her, grip first. He nodded toward Michael and Erika.

“Take it. Kill them both. Prove that you still love the Motherland.”

By way of emphasis, the man with the Dragunov turned its ugly barrel toward her.

Lillian stared back at him; her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t make me do this, Pavel,” Lillian cried. “If you ever loved me, don’t make me do this!”

Hedeon remained silent, the lines of his face set in stone.

With an excruciating effort of will, Lillian took the hateful pistol in her trembling hand, letting the barrel point toward the deck.

“Prove you love your country above all, Ninotchka,” Hedeon repeated. “KILL THEM!”

Lillian flinched, and Michael watched while she slowly raised the pistol. At that moment, all he could see was the haunted look in her eyes and that dark black hole at the end of the barrel. But what frightened him more than anything was that her hand had stopped trembling; it was rock steady.

And then, before anyone could react, Lillian whirled and fired toward the man with the rifle, and then the taller one next to him. Both men crumpled to the deck unmoving. She turned the gun on Hedeon, who was stunned into immobility.

“Goodbye, Pavel.”

The gun in her hand roared again and Hedeon dropped like a stone, a bullet through his forehead. She moved quickly to the railing, picked up the envelope and went to her son. Bending down, she placed a hand on Erika’s neck, then nodded. “It’s not too bad, but she needs care. I’ll get the captain.”

She stood and moved toward the bridge.

“Mother?”

Lillian stopped and turned, a quizzical look on her face.

“Thank you.”

The puzzled look turned into a sad smile. “I’ve a great deal to make up for, dear. More than I can ever hope to in one lifetime, anyway....”

Michael glanced out in the direction of the British coastline. “We’ll be landing in a couple of hours. We’d better radio the authorities.”

“After all this commotion, I should think we can count on quite a welcoming committee.”

“No doubt. But I was thinking of the BBC.”

Lillian frowned. “What on earth for?”

The ghost of a smile played across Michael’s lips. “Insurance,” he replied.

Brady watched from his perch above the lounge as the elderly woman disappeared into the belly of the ship, heading for the bridge. He had to admire the old girl—she was one tough bird. Still, what she had done had changed everything. Now that the Russians were dead, MacKinnon’s plans lay in ruins and exposure for the British was imminent.

It was time to play his own hand with MacKinnon.

While the events had unfolded before him on the deck below, a plan had blossomed in his mind, one that would satisfy the Home Secretary and get him off the hook for good. Smiling, he could already feel the old sod beckoning.

I’ll not be gone much longer, he thought.

Snapping out of his daydream, he returned his attention to Michael, who sat comforting the wounded German woman. It would be so easy. Walk up and pull his Walther and....

He shook his head and left the gun stuck in his shoulder holster. He’d always followed orders without question; maybe it was time to start following his conscience. Maybe then the ghost of the boy’s father would stop haunting him. The crooked grin returned.

“It’s time we made our peace, Mikey,” he said. “High time.”

Moving to the starboard side of the ferry, Brady walked toward the bow and an uncertain future.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sir Robert Sandon’s blood pressure rose when he caught sight of the knot of official vehicles clogging the dock area immediately surrounding the Ostend-Dover Ferry, their flashing lights making for a colorful mélange. The media were out in force, as well, their reporters and cameras all agog at the spectacle before them.

A flock of ambulances stood by and the attendants were already busy bearing stretchers off the boat, their cargoes covered with white sheets. Sir Robert counted six in all. On the last one, however, he caught sight of the girl, Mueller’s daughter, Erika, her face deathly white from blood loss. But she was still alive.

Pity.

At least her father was out of the way. At least that was what the report said.

“Shall we move in, Sir Robert?” the young MI6 agent standing at his side asked, his voice taut with eagerness.

They stood far back from the action, partially hidden by their vehicles. Sir