The Whispering Dead
Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Also by David Mark
- THE WHISPERING DEAD
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- PART ONE
- CORDELIA
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- PART TWO
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- PART THREE
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- FELICITY
- CORDELIA
- EPILOGUE
Cover
Also by David Mark
Novels
THE ZEALOT’S BONES (as D.M. Mark)
THE MAUSOLEUM (aka THE BURYING GROUND) *
A RUSH OF BLOOD *
BORROWED TIME *
BLOOD MONEY
INTO THE WOODS
SUSPICIOUS MINDS *
CAGES *
GRAVE OF THE GOBLINS
ANATOMY OF A HERETIC
THE WHISPERING DEAD *
The DS Aector McAvoy series
DARK WINTER
ORIGINAL SKIN
SORROW BOUND
TAKING PITY
DEAD PRETTY
CRUEL MERCY
SCORCHED EARTH
COLD BONES
PAST LIFE *
BLIND JUSTICE *
* available from Severn House
THE WHISPERING DEAD
David Mark
Dedication
For Phyllis and Milly
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Some of the events outlined in this novel actually happened. Most of them didn’t. I’ll trust you to work out which is which. I rather hope you’re wrong.
Epigraph
Spies cannot be usefully employed without a certain intuitive sagacity.
They cannot be properly managed without benevolence and straightforwardness.
Without subtle ingenuity of mind, one cannot make certain of the truth of their reports.
Be subtle! be subtle! and use your spies for every kind of business.
If a secret piece of news is divulged by a spy before the time is ripe, he must be put to death together with the man to whom the secret was told.
Sun Tzu, 544–496 BC
PROLOGUE
Browndown Beach, Gosport, Hampshire
March 11, 1968
The sea’s a joyless grey, cloudy as milk. There’s no line where water meets sky, just a smudge as the slow-moving sea merges softly into low, cloud-coiled sky. Drizzle greases the stones on this shingly, isolated beach; a near-invisible rain suspended in the chill air, misting a horizon the colour of unbaked clay.
A young woman is sitting on the sea wall, gazing at nothing. She’s as colourless and unremarkable as the emptiness into which she stares. Such appearance marks a change in philosophy and deportment; a transformation of sorts – a butterfly worming back into its muted cocoon. She is capable of extravaganza, of genuine visual spectacle; adept at clothing herself in gaudy hues and luxurious modes, splendid in short skirts, vivid nails; big earrings, big hair. She favours plum-coloured berets and large sunglasses, calf-hugging platform boots and bangles that clank as she swigs her brandy and lemonade. But here, now, she is equally comfortable in her monochrome anonymity. Were she to sit still long enough, she fancies she could pass for a stone.
She shifts position, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She’s getting good at disregarding pain. She didn’t even wince when she applied the blusher to her bruised cheek; her knuckles prodding her tender flesh as she worked her kohl around the contours of her strikingly blue eyes.