“Why? Are you saying this was no accident?” Harding said in disbelief. “Think about it… sir. Let’s say there was one live round loaded accidentally. It could have been fired off into the air or at any one of those Home Guards or Norwegians running around out there. But it wasn’t. It ended up a few inches from my head. What are the chances of that?” “It had to end up somewhere, Boyle,” Harding answered. “What makes you think you’re so special?” “Because we’re here, looking for a spy.” I lowered my voice, feeling like an actor in a bad melodrama. “And I’ve been asking around about the gold.
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