The Man From St. Petersburg
Ken Follett
Language: English
Pages: 249
ISBN: B004S6EB4S
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
His name was Feliks. He came to London to commit a murder that would change history. A master manipulator, he had many weapons at his command, but against him were ranged the whole of the English police, a brilliant and powerful lord, and the young Winston Churchill himself. These odds would have stopped any man in the world-except the man from St. Petersburg...
now.” “You’re marvelous,” Feliks whispered, but she did not hear. They stopped at the next corner. Feliks could see some low buildings and a yard. “The stables,” Charlotte murmured. “Stay here for a moment. When I give you the signal, follow me as fast as you can.” “Where are we going?” “Over the roofs.” She rode into the yard, dismounted, and looped the reins over a rail. Feliks watched her cross to the far side of the little yard, look both ways, then come back and look inside the stables.
talking about.” “And if I haven’t, whose fault is it?” Charlotte burst out. “How did I manage to reach the age of eighteen without learning that some people are so poor they sleep in the street, that maids who are expecting babies get dismissed, and that—that—men are not made the same as women? Don’t stand there telling me I don’t understand these things and I have a lot to learn! I’ve spent all my life learning and now I discover most of it was lies! How dare you! How dare you!” She burst into
advocating killing people as the proper means of securing the political freedom of men. The suffragettes have not done that and never will. In fact, the moving spirit of militancy is a deep and abiding reverence for human life. “It was in this spirit that our women went forth to war last year. On January thirty-first a number of putting greens were burned with acids. On February seventh and eighth telegraph and telephone wires were cut in several places and for some hours all communication
realized Aleks isn’t here—what will he do now? The killer spoke to Walden in Russian: “You’re not as stupid as you look.” Walden thought: Is he suicidal? Will he kill us all and himself too? Better keep him talking— Then the man was gone. Walden heard his footsteps running down the corridor. Walden made for the door. The other three were ahead of him. Out in the corridor, the detectives knelt on the floor, aiming their guns. Walden saw the killer running away with a queer fluid step, his
yourself.” She frowned at him. He seemed to have a lump in his throat, she thought. She said: “You’ve got a cold coming.” “I never catch colds. What’s your earliest memory?” She thought for a moment. “I was brought up in a country house called Walden Hall, in Norfolk. It’s a beautiful gray stone building with a very lovely garden. In summer we had tea outdoors, under the chestnut tree. I must have been about four years old when I was first allowed to have tea with Mama and Papa. It was very