Chapter Seventy
Eleven kilometres was indeed a mere trifle. Long Max’s barrel was more than sixteen meters long, and could do more than forty kilometres and still hit. The devastation from that single shot was stunning. The shell hit two houses down the street from Mazenc’s property, and practically destroyed four houses in one blast. Michel Denis lay shaking from head to toe in the smoking heap of rubble that had once been Mazenc’s living-room. The blast from a shell the size of a pillar-box is too much for human nerves.
Denis felt himself floating, with no sensation in his limbs, but a vision of The Mole’s grey notebook fluttering in flames, circling like a wounded gull above his head. His ears rang as if it were singing some strange tune. When the fiery phoenix finally landed on his t
