The year is 1942 and Europe is at the height of World War Two. Mila Goldstein, a Dutch Jew living in occupied Holland, has signed on as an informant for the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). However, days before her assignment, a wounded Ge...
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Two chapters in one week! Woohoo! I've had this chapter in my head before I even started writing this book, so finally putting it down on metaphorical paper felt so good! I hope you guys love it as much as I do!
Walking up the front steps of the War Office, Mila paused at the double doors. Grasping the purse draped over her shoulder, she traced the outline of her gun inside the bag. Slipping her opposite hand inside the pocket of her dress, she felt for the cylindrical tube that held the cyanide pills Harvey had given her. Turning it over with her fingers, she traced the etching on the side of the tube, going over the plan in her head one last time.
The ballroom would be filled to the brim with dinner guests there to celebrate Heinrich Muller's arrival. He was going to pay for everything he'd done to her, and so many other innocent people ... And he was going to pay tonight. Pushing open the door, she walked inside, the soft hum of music playing in the distance instantly filling her ears. She was going to kill him and he'd never see it coming. Of course everyone else in attendance would know what she'd done ... There was no real way to hide shooting someone in the middle of a dinner party ... But that's what the cyanide was for.
Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she made her way down the hallway leading to the ballroom. Turning a corner, a hand grasped her arm without warning, tugging her backwards roughly.
"What are you doing here?" Josef hissed, pushing her inside his office and closing the door behind him.
Clutching her bag instinctively, she pushed it behind her. His eyes darted from hers to the bag, narrowing in suspicion. Taking a step towards her, he snatched the purse, yanking it from her grasp before she could pull away. Opening the clasp he rummaged inside, his jaw clenching as his hand grasped the gun she'd stowed inside.
"Why are you here?" He asked again. Half cocking the hammer, he opened the cylinder, removing each bullet from the cartridge of her revolver. Pocketing the ammunition, he tossed the gun onto the armchair in the corner of the room. "I told you to leave ... Go to your people and tell them to get you out!"
"I can't leave!" She hissed back at him through gritted teeth. "My handlers were arrested ... I have no-one ... And nowhere to go ... It's over."
"Why did you come here?" He glared at her suspiciously. She blinked away, her eyes falling on a single scrap of paper lying on Josef's desk ... A paper identical to the one she'd crumpled up yesterday. Josef's gaze followed her's, settling on the invitation. "Mila..." He trailed off, realization dawning on his face, as he began to connect the dots. Glancing between the invitation and the gun, his eyes fell back on her. "This is a suicide mission."
"He killed my father and brother," She shot back indignantly, dropping all pretenses now. "It was him! He pulled the trigger!"
"You can't really believe you'd even come remotely close to getting a shot off?" He shook his head in disbelief. "The moment you pulled out that gun, they'd be on you before you could even cock the hammer."
