The Prodigal Daughter (1996)

Cover of book The Prodigal Daughter
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Categories: Fiction
“Cannot permit ... treachery ... look like an accident ... what about the Russian ... French ... tell ...” A frustrated listener pressed an ear against the keyhole, straining to hear that rapid conve...rsation. Vienna was crawling with spies. Who did these two work for?  Had they engineered the disappearance of that officer last week?  Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner, raising panic. To be caught at all meant failure. To be caught here could mean death. Fingers grasped a hidden knife, their tension belying the listener’s assumed nonchalance.
But it was only Jack.
Suddenly the hall dissolved into twilight, the listener now a searcher, frantically crisscrossing the battlefield after Waterloo. Images rose in stark horror – shattered bodies, burning gun carriages, mud – all permeated by the eternal smell of smoke and gunpowder. He had to be here somewhere. Trembling hands turned over an officer wearing a familiar green uniform. Dear God, it was Andy.
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The Prodigal Daughter
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