“No, you were my secretary, and I trusted you with sensitive information; information that you used for your own benefit,” Kendrick said.
Mr. Wilson’s nostrils flared. “What would you have me do? I wanted to go into the field but you refused me that right. You said I wasn’t ready.”
“You weren’t ready,” Kendrick responded. “You still aren’t.”
With pursed lips, Mr. Wilson said, “I do believe you underestimated me and now you will die as well.”
Kendrick tsked. “You lack vision, Wilson,” he declared. “If you point that pistol at me, you will be shot by the sniper that is just outside.”
Mr. Wilson’s eyes darted towards the window. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then try it,” Kendrick encouraged.
Hesitantly, Mr. Wilson went to point the pistol at Kendrick and a gunshot could be heard discharging from outside, followed by the breaking of glass.
Mr. Wilson dropped to the ground as he held his bleeding shoulder. His pistol dropped to the floor and slid towards Anette.
“I tried to warn you,” Kendrick remarked. “Now will everyone kindly line up so we can transport you to Newgate in an organized manner?”
“Stay where you are!” Mr. Barnard demanded. “We still can take them!”
Fredrick moved closer to Octavia. “It is over. You lost,” he said. “If you want me to kill you, I would be happy to do so.”
“You tried before and you weren’t successful,” Mr. Barnard mocked.
“Yes, because I was ordered to keep you alive. I have no such orders now,” Fredrick said. “But I am not opposed to watching you hang as a traitor.”
Mr. Barnard cocked his pistol as he pointed it at Octavia. “If I am to die, I might as well kill your precious sister.”
“Your fight is with me, not my sister,” Fredrick said. “For once, be honorable and do the right thing.”
A snicker escaped Mr. Barnard’s lips. “You know nothing about honor. You British are all the same!” he spat out.
While Mr. Barnard and Fredrick were glaring at each other, Anette leaned forward slightly and retrieved Mr. Wilson’s pistol. She brought the pistol to her side, feeling immense relief that she had a way to protect herself now.
Fredrick stepped in front of Octavia. “I won’t let you kill her.”
“Then you will be my consolation prize,” Mr. Barnard said as he tightened his hold on the pistol.
Anette knew she needed to act, and quickly. She refused to let Mr. Barnard kill Fredrick. She brought the pistol up and shot Mr. Barnard in the chest. He staggered back and dropped onto his knees. He looked at her in surprise.
“You shot me?” Mr. Barnard asked.
The weight of the pistol seemed too great for her to hold any longer and it slipped out of her hand. “You left me with little choice,” she responded.
Mr. Barnard looked down at the bloodstain that was saturating his white shirt. “You think that this will silence me… us?” he asked, his breathing labored. “No, this changes nothing. You will see. You will all see!”
With his final breath, Mr. Barnard fell face forward onto the floor.
The main door opened and men rushed into the room with their pistols drawn. “Everyone onto the floor!” someone ordered.
Roswell crouched down next to Anette and his arms encircled her. “It will be all right,” he promised. Only this time, when he said it, she believed him.
Roswell watched as the men in the tavern were escorted out by the other agents. He couldn’t quite believe that his brother was here, and that he was alive. It had been years since he had last seen Fredrick but he hadn’t changed much. His hair was still black but his skin was much darker than it had been when he had first left for the Continent.
He held Anette in his arms and he couldn’t quite express the relief that he felt that she was safe. She was so brave and he had never been more proud of her. Not once did she show a hint of her fear, but rather she embraced it, making her stronger than he ever thought possible.
She was his whole world, and it was time that he told her as much. But would she accept him as he was, knowing he was a spy?
