The Turncoat Suitor

Roger was standing in the doorway with only the glint of his eyes and the barrel of a Mauser P27 visible in the shadows. Margie had nearly fallen asleep when she heard him.

“Roger, is that you?” she murmured with one eye open.

“It’s me, Margie.”

The man she loved stepped into the pool of light cast by the bedroom window. Outside, the bay was sparkling under the cold full moon. The silhouette of a lone U-boat disappeared behind an outcropping of formless jetty rocks with a silent, sinister hush. Roger’s finger was on the trigger. He smiled broadly.

“Oh thank heavens it’s you,” she whispered. “We can’t be too careful these days.”

“Indeed, these are dangerous times,” the man snarled. “In fact, circumstances have forced me to tip my hand a bit sooner than I’d like.” Margie was instantly awake.

“You scoundrel!”

Roger placed the tip of the gun against the woman’s cheek. “Give me the new RAF radio encryption key.”

“I will never aid the Germans.”

“Then I’ll deliver your corpse to the Führer himself.”

The End

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