Summer 1946 – It is Easier to Stand on the Shoulders of Giants if First They Have Been Beheaded

 

I twisted in deGroot’s grasp, slipped my foot behind his leg and swept him off his feet. As he went down I jerked my arm out of his hands. I stomped hard on his left leg and heard the satisfying double crunch of both tibia and fibula losing structure.

DeGroot’s howl brought Bruno into the corridor. He leveled his .38 at my forehead. He hissed, “Stay very still, witch.”

I ignored his order.