Read Online The Margin of Evil! by Simon Boxall - Free Book Online Page B

audit was abandoned and they returned and reported back to the Granite-Faced-Slag.  Unusually for her she accepted their findings. They convinced her that maybe now was not the right time to be conducting an audit of this nature, which could only be interpreted as an unnecessary distraction in the face of an impending onslaught from Denikens army. She agreed without the usual argument, and dismissed the pair of them.
    Georgii returned to his desk and attempted to clear some of his paperwork. He looked over to where Trofimov was working and she seemed to be holding meeting after meeting with, he assumed, various visiting dignitaries. He turned around and reached for the file at the bottom of his in tray. He felt for it again, it was not there. Shit he thought, he carefully moved all the files and papers over from one side of the desk to the other without trying to draw attention to himself. It was definitely not there. He could only assume that whoever had placed it there had retrieved it when he had been off on this morning's 'Wild Goose' chase. He looked around him; everything in the office seemed to be perfectly in order. So he carried on as per normal himself; but he could not help thinking that someone was either trying to help him or they were trying to sabotage his enquiries. But he had told no one. The only person that knew was Gerhardt. But Georgii knew only too well that Gerhardt played his cards close to his chest when it suited him and, if he was doing it now, then he - Gerhardt - must be working in conjunction with other interested parties. Georgii sat there and wondered who these interested parties might be. He started to feel sick. He had sat there thinking for a long time, because when he returned to the land of the living, the 1 st floor office was almost deserted, and Trofimov had got her coat and was heading to the door. He would wait for her to go; then he would go home. He gave her five minutes and then left. It was bitterly cold out on the street. He turned his collar up and decided to take the quick way home across some deserted wasteland. The snow had started to fall again and the flakes were pelting his face with a vengeance. He turned left, down at the end of the street, and hurried down a narrow lane. As he came to the wasteland the fresh snow crunched under his shoes. Georgii could now see the silhouette of the disused factory looming up in front of him. He walked in, something moved up in the rafters, probably pigeons he thought. They were the only things stupid enough to be out on a night like this.
    He hurried on through the middle of the factory. It was only when he had rounded a large idle machine that he thought he heard something. He stopped and listened. There it was again, but this time it was clearer. He wasn't sure but it sounded like a whimper. Georgii instinctively found himself moving towards the sound. At the same time he was reaching for his revolver [9] . Now he could definitely hear something. It was the sound of scuffling feet, and it was coming from over there. He peered around the corner of a giant lathe, and he was shocked at the sight that confronted him.
    Two men were holding Trofimov, one on each arm, and a third was laying into her with his fists. She was taking it defiantly. Georgii looked around him. On the floor was an empty bottle. He picked it up and threw it. The bottle sailed through the air over to the other side of the factory and smashed. The three men looked around to see which direction the bottle had come from. Georgii seized the opportunity and fired a shot at the man who only a second before had been working over Trofimov. He fell over like a sack of potatoes and lay on the floor clutching his belly.  He then rushed them.  Before he got to them the two men released her and she fell to the ground. They picked up their groaning colleague and made for the exit at the far end of the shed.
    Geo rgii looked at Comrade Trofimov.  She had a bleeding lip and her