The Night Ferry
Werner glanced at his watch. The night ferry to France was late. He scanned the travellers who had gathered on platlform-2. On his lap was the Paris-based newspaper Le Temps. Bored with watching the burgeoning crowd, he picked up the paper and began to read. Even though customs had gone smoothly, yet an uneasiness had settled over him and he didn’t know why. His new name, Frederick Scholte, was on his passport, securely tucked away in the inner pocket of his navy-striped Kent double-breasted suit. He placed the newspaper aside and removed a handkerchief from his pant pocket to clean his round spectacles with the dark tortoise shell frames, part of his disguise. A tea wagon across the way...