Patterns of Espionage

A story of war, spies and battleships.

Dr Burns stooped to view the patient more closely. An unlikely accident: two tenders had collided and a seaman had fallen with his arm trapped between his boat and the pier.

“Lift him gently,” she said. After examining him she insisted he be taken in to Kirkwall for immediate surgery.

Watching her with the boats crew, as the stretcher was lifted on board, was an officer in a naval uniform.

A woman doctor was a rarity in 1939 and rarer still in Orkney.

About thirty five he guessed, shortish blonde hair, attractive face, fine featured. He went forward from the wheelhouse and introduced himself,

“Captain Bob Stewart,” he said proffering a hand.

“Dr Burns,” she replied, “Margaret Burns,” in a refined Scottish accent, probably Edinburgh.

“Can my patient be made more comfortable on deck with some blankets?”

“I’m sure,” said Stewart, moving to the wheelhouse to speak to the skipper.

In that brief moment Margaret had noticed his missing arm – the empty sleeve of his naval uniform tucked neatly into his pocket.

He wasn’t on active service afloat then, she surmised to herself.

“Are you the local GP?” He asked, returning.

“Yes, I cover the island of Flotta. It wasn’t too onerous until your

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Texte: alastair macleod
Lektorat: alastair macleod
Übersetzung: title page typeset in amiennebold
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 30.01.2013
ISBN: 978-3-7309-1122-8

Alle Rechte vorbehalten