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from Angel Maker by Barry B. Wright

Copyright © 2019–2020 Barry B. Wright

Chapter Forty
The Thule

Queenie gave a gentle nudge with her heel and the door closed. She removed her hat and coat and dropped them on the Chinese Chippendale-style side chair and entered the living room. “Wow! This is quite a pad. A good piece of eye-candy.” She turned a complete circle. “Never seen such luxury. Though, by how much you’ve aged, Lynn, it hasn’t fitted well with you.” She snorted.

“Was that a snort, I heard?” Lynn shook her head.

“I guess it was. So not like me,” Queenie chortled, “but—” she pointed at Lynn’s attire—"what’s this all about? Surely, you’re not testing costumes for Halloween?’

Lynn crossed her arms. “No. I’m not. What I don’t understand, though, is why you are here.”

Queenie wiggled her toes. “My feet are killing me. Do you mind if I sit?”

Lynn ushered her to a couch and sat opposite her. The coffee table with the open bottle of Lafite-Rothschild separated them. “I could lie, Queenie, and say I’m pleased to see you.”

Queenie picked up the bottle and perused the label. “Then you would take me to be a fool, which I am not.”

Melissa joined Lynn on the couch and slid a wineglass across to Queenie.

“Do you believe in fairies? Because I do.” Queenie poured the last of the bottle’s contents into her glass. “No, I assumed as much.” She waved her hand above her head to convey the fullness of the room. “The fairies have told me that you’ll not have this for long. Enjoy it while you can.” She sat back and sipped her wine.

“Did the fairies tell you why?”

“Indeed they did, Lynn.” Queenie pushed back the wine and placed the empty glass on the table. “We are on the cusp of war. British merchant shipping has been ordered out of the Mediterranean and Italian ports. And the fairies have told me that Avenue Foch, 31, your building, will soon house Gestapo.”

“You sure know how to kill a conversation.” Melissa glared at her.

Lynn drew closer to Queenie. “Why are you really here?”

“Because of my special ability to see and know things that others can’t. Psychic, mysticism—call it what you may—I do not pretend. You know that, Captain Hall. But, right now, I am scared.”

“Of what?”

“Lynn, this is not a wise use of our time.” Melissa tugged on Lynn’s arm. “We must leave.”

“Werner and the Thule Gessellschaft are gathering strength. Your lives are in d...

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