Nobody was around to hear the
swift dispatch of the burly sentry standing guard next to a stack of
bricks. A sledgehammer punch to the right kidney, left hand clamped tightly
over the open mouth, the juddering head jerked back and the razor-sharp girl
guide knife across the throat. An ugly gurgling noise and Sowerbutt slowly
lowered the shaking body to the ground.
He was less than 20 feet
away from the hut, a faint light flickering through the covered windows,
open in the warm evening. Nothing stirred, but he thought he could hear
snoring, then what sounded like a bottle being banged down on a table. amazon.co.uk/Colour-Lemon-Surrender-1940-ebook/dp/B008USR7FA
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