The Secret of Highway House

Highway House is a name that, if things had been different, every one of you would have heard of, every one of you would marvel at and every one of you would know the story of. Why there might even have been a Highway House day, or a Lizzie McMorely day! But you don't and there isn't, and this is why.

Lizzie McMorely, newly graduated from Oxford, is recruited to train as an assassin at Highway House. But when sent out on her first ever mission; the assassination of Adolf Hitler, several factors Lizzie hasn't been trained for come into play: luck, betrayal and love.


10. Unwanted Attention

Despite the hustle and bustle of living in a capital city, Lizzie felt surprisingly lonely during her first week in Berlin. She had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. So being a Highway House girl she set herself a little mission, she didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself after the incident of her first night here, but she would observe and only observe the Reichstag’s guard and patrol and the various security measures put in place there. She had to complete her assassination at all costs so if it things got so bad it became necessary to break into the Reichstag then she’d be in a better position if she knew all about it. So on Saturday morning she embarked on the autobahn to the centre of Berlin. She didn’t think she was being followed as she passed through the Brandenburg Gates however as she entered the square in which the Reichstag was set she was under the distinct impression that she was not alone. Surreptitiously she glanced over her shoulder. There was no one obvious that stood out: a woman pushing a pram, two teenagers smoking something that didn’t much look like tobacco, an old man sat on a bench throwing bread to some pigeons and a man busking on the side of the road. She shook her head and decided she must just be being paranoid. Instead of worrying she took a seat on a bench on the edge of the square and pulled out a newspaper whilst firmly keeping watch on the numerous soldiers stood firmly guarding the enormous building. She flicked over the page every now and then to keep up the appearance of reading but her mind was not on the paper in her hand.
After a while she became acutely aware of a clicking noise behind her, while all her senses told her to dive to the ground for fear that someone behind her was loading a gun, something in her subconscious told her that this was not an aggressive noise. So rather than duck to the floor she stood bolt upright and turned to leave the square. But she had barely taken two paces when she found herself unable to go anywhere for the small crowd of people who were pressing in on her from all sides and shoving cameras in her face.
“Tell me Miss Wreath,” one journalist demanded, “Is it true that you went out to Fien Küche last Saturday night with Mr Hans Von Heinzer?” He clicked a camera multiple times just inches from her face.
“What do his parents think about the scandalous rumours surrounding the two of you?” interjected another.
“Will you be attending the Von Heinzer’s party at their mansion tonight?”
“Do you have a personal vendetta against Miss Engel? Or are your motives purely selfish?” This last question baffled Lizzie completely but rather than give the media what they wanted and ask what on earth they were talking about, she ducked her head and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring them as they followed her all the way back to the metro station.
It was quite utterly a disaster of a trip, even before she was harassed by the pack of journalists she had been completely unable to see how she would ever manage to get into the Reichstag. That option was a total no go meaning she would have to try extra hard to win the affections of Hans later on that evening, although if she was honest with herself she was fairly confident that she had already managed to do that. How the journalists knew about her and Hans was bugging her, she hadn’t noticed anyone taking any particular interest in the pair of them on their date, and she was trained to notice these things. Perhaps Hans had told some of his friends about her she supposed. Either way her attempt to keep her head down and avoid drawing attention to herself was failing miserably.

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