Monday 27 October 2014

Sowerbutt's Spy

Gerhard stood still, like a gamekeeper’s dog; sniffing the wind, ears alert and eyes peering through the darkness. Nothing, a whiff of manure and the sickly scent of rotting leaves. Wind rustled through the trees, a dog barked in the distance. The former soldier stiffened as a branch creaked in the nearby woodland. Silence.
He estimated he was three miles from the cottage north of Lutterworth. It had taken him an hour or so, stopping every few hundred yards to check he was not being followed. The rucksack was heavy. He had padded the transmitter with rags to avoid rubbing.

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