Hensley’s head shot back; his dead body slid down onto the floor.
“Sir, we have to go,” insisted Campbell. “The police are sure to be on the way by now.”
Sheppard stared at the lifeless body of the traitor for a moment and then turned to leave the room. He and Campbell left the building through the back door and then stepped into a dimly lit back alley. Waiting for them was Sheppard’s brand new silver 1927 Vauxhall.
“Shall I drive?” asked Campbell.
“No, if it’s okay, Harry, I’d like to drive for a while,” said Sheppard as he holstered his pistol.
They got in and soon were far away from London. Sheppard drove in silence as they meandered through the narrow country roads.
“We’re heading to the coast, aren’t we?” asked Campbell.
“Yes, we are done here. It’s time to get home to New York before the winter snow comes,” said Sheppard as he changed gears.
Campbell looked over his shoulder and waved goodbye to his home, looking forward to starting a life in a new one.
“Harry, do we have Hensley’s blood money?”
“Yes sir,” replied Campbell, patting a metal box on his lap.
“Good, I know some people who could use it more than we could,” said Sheppard. He thought of Shipov as he gripped the steering wheel, changed gears once more, and then placed his foot on the accelerator and sped off into the night.
- END -
The Last Eagle (A Christopher Sheppard Adventure Book 1) Page 30