The Silent Woman: The USA TODAY BESTSELLER - a gripping historical fiction. Terry Thomas Lynn

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      ‘Maybe we should move her,’ another voice said.

      Cat’s vision blurred. Blood pulsed into the skin near her cheekbone and her eye. Fluid pushed its way into new places, causing the skin to tighten with swelling. How will I explain this to Benton? Cat thought.

      ‘Move aside. Move aside, please,’ Cat heard a man’s voice say. ‘I saw everything from down the road. Move, please, and let me get to her.’ The crowd parted and the man squatted near Cat and studied her face. He was very tall, with dark hair worn a bit longer than was fashionable. The strong line of his jaw was covered with the dark stubble of a beard. His intelligent grey eyes peered at Cat. Are you all right?’

      ‘Not sure,’ Cat said.

      ‘What is your name?’

      ‘Catherine.’

      ‘Do you know what year it is?’

      ‘It’s 1937. I’m not concussed,’ Cat said. ‘I’ve just been attacked.’

      ‘Can you stand?’ The man stood and held out his hand. ‘Take my hand, and I’ll help you up. Careful now. If you’re dizzy, just lean on me.’ She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. The man turned to the crowd. ‘All is well now. Carry on.’

      Cat allowed the man to lead her to a bench in the shade. He helped her sit down before he went into the closest shop and returned with a glass of water.

      ‘Drink this. It will soothe you.’

      Cat obeyed, letting the cool water run down her throat. While she drank, she noticed the man glance up and down the street.

      ‘I dare say she won’t come back.’ He studied Cat’s face. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have a black eye. Do you want me to take you to hospital? Maybe you should have that seen to.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Cat said. She brushed off her skirt, dismayed to see the large rip at the elbow of her new suit. Her hat had come off and now rested in the street. Cat watched, helpless, as a lorry drove over it, mashing it beyond repair.

      ‘May I escort you home or at least arrange for someone to come and get you?’

      ‘No, thank you. I’m fine really. I need to run an errand and then I’ll see myself home.’ She forced herself to sound strong and sure. ‘You’ve been very kind. I’ve an appointment just down the street. I know I must look a fright, but I’m all right, really. When I’m finished, I’ll go and have a cup of tea to settle my nerves.’

      ‘We really should call the police,’ the man said.

      ‘I’ll go directly there and make a report in person,’ Cat lied. She had no intention of going to the police.

      ‘Here’s my card. You’ll give that to the police? Have them call me. I got a pretty good look at her.’ He reached into the pocket of his suit and handed Cat a card printed on thick milky paper. Thomas Charles, Historian. There wasn’t an address, just a telephone exchange. She thanked him, took the card, and said her goodbyes, setting out once again to fulfil her obligation to Reginald. With each step, the anger that had saved her – and prevented the theft of Reginald’s documents – was replaced by a relentless knot of fear.

      Fifteen minutes later she dropped off the envelope in the appropriate place. The secretary met her directly and – according to plan – excused himself and left Cat to her own devices. She was in and out of the building in less than five minutes. She resisted the urge to buy a new hat to replace the one that was damaged and turned her attention to more important matters, such as how she was going to explain her bruises to her inquiring sister-in-law and insolent husband.

      ***

      Thomas took a taxi to an antiquarian bookshop in Piccadilly, lodged between a tailor and an estate agent. A rack of old books stood in front of the shop. A man browsed through the titles now, his hat pulled low over his head. As a precaution, Thomas walked past the estate agent and circled back. When he returned, the man was gone. He stepped into the shop and breathed in the smell of the old books.

      He loved writing almost as much as he loved reading and books in general. He travelled Germany under the guise of being a writer, a cover that allowed him to move around without question. On a whim, Thomas decided that he would write a compendium on historical churches, a travel guide of sorts, in order to lend credence to his cover story. Thomas actually started the process of writing, jotting down a few paragraphs about the churches and sights he visited. The enjoyment he took from the process surprised and delighted him.

      When he submitted the book to a publisher, who snapped it up in exchange for a hefty fee, Thomas was surprised. He studied craft, read how-to-write books, and even took a correspondence course in writing professionally. His career flourished. His books were met with critical acclaim.

      The shop’s purveyor looked up from behind a desk and nodded, while Thomas continued to browse along the rows of the old books with their cracked leather spines and unique mustiness. He picked up a fine first edition of Ivanhoe when the bell jangled and Sir Reginald came in. Thomas tucked the book back on the shelf as the old man turned the closed sign to face the street and locked the front door. The proprietor nodded at Reginald and headed up a rickety flight of stairs at the back of the shop. Neither Reginald nor Thomas spoke until a door at the top of the stairs shut and footsteps creaked above them.

      ‘Were my suspicions correct then?’ Sir Reginald asked.

      ‘It’s Marlena X,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s been watching the house for the past week.’

      ‘Someone in that house is working with her,’ Reginald said.

      ‘Agreed.’

      ‘But you’ve never seen her make contact with anyone?’

      ‘No, sir,’ Thomas said.

      ‘And Mrs Carlisle?’

      Thomas turned to face Reginald. ‘Marlena made a run for the papers she was carrying, just as you expected.’

      Reginald took a deep breath. ‘And?’

      ‘Mrs Carlisle managed to thwart her by sheer willpower. She clung to that purse as though it were a lifeline. Marlena hit her. Mrs Carlisle fell to the ground, nearly passed out, but clutched at that damn purse.’ Thomas looked at Reginald. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, putting an untrained woman such as Mrs Carlisle out in the field against the likes of Marlena X.’

      ‘I’m taking a risk, I know,’ Sir Reginald said, ‘but I’ll stand by it. Finish your report.’

      ‘I made contact with Mrs Carlisle, gave her my business card.’ Sir Reginald faced him, staring at him with that penetrating gaze that had brought many a man to his knees. ‘As far as she’s concerned, she’d been mugged. A crowd had gathered around her. I had to get close to confirm the documents were safe.’

      ‘Understood,’ Reginald said. ‘Watch her. See that she doesn’t come to harm.’

      ‘What about Marlena X?’

      ‘Leave her be for now. Let’s give her a nice long rope, shall we?’ He stared at Thomas. ‘Is this СКАЧАТЬ