Chapter 5
London, 1923
After finishing reading the diary, my boss told me to get to work on a series of articles. We would aim to publish the first part of Henson's story on the first Sunday in September.
Two weeks later, the grumpy Scotsman requested my presence in his office and after carefully reviewing my work, he produced something that I had rarely seen: a smile.
‘You’ve done a great job. I didn’t have the slightest doubt ever since you proposed it,’ he said with a wry chuckle.
I nodded, satisfied.
‘Let's have a Scotch. I keep a bottle for occasions like these. Cigar?’
He took the bottle from the sideboard and opened a box of cigars. ‘They arrived last week from Cuba,’ he announced.
‘What does your doctor say about those things?’ I asked.
‘What he doe
