By the time the parachutist's body hit the roadway with a sickening crunch, the letters and other papers secured in a calfskin pouch hanging around the dead man’s neck had burnt to ash.
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Churchill sat at the large table, strewn with maps. “Do they think they outrank me? The generals believe they are a law unto themselves and not subject to the will of His Majesty’s duly-elected Government."
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A curious assortment of eyes watched the coffin being lowered into the grave at the cemetery, a stone’s throw from Mile End Road in London’s East End, still flattened after the recent war.
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Sowerbutt buried himself in the Mirror, reading several letters calling for reprisal air raids against Berlin. “Teach the Jerries a lesson they won’t forget,” said one. “I want 100 dead Jerries to make up for my darling Peter,” said another.
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Sowerbutt ran the needle-sharp point of the blade across the teacher’s exposed throat, leaving a thin red line in its wake.
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A curious assortment of eyes watched the coffin being lowered into the grave at the cemetery, a stone’s throw from Mile End Road in London’s East End, still flattened after the recent war.
https://www.amazon.com/Colour-Red-Deal-Sowerbutt-Novels-ebook/dp/B00RL9FGKM?
Tipper snapped at the guard: “You can pace up and down, you can smoke, you can take a piss, but you will not leave your post.”
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