There Are Some Secrets That Refuse To Die.

For years, spy chief Major Sophie Decker has had to live with the memories of a terrible childhood in Communist East Germany, and an alcoholic father who worked for the Stasi secret police, who sexually abused her. Those memories made her into the ruthless government agent she is today.

But on a covert mission to the German city of Weimar, suppressed memories start flooding back, and long-forgotten dark family secrets are about to rear their ugly head again. As Sophie Decker goes on the rampage to exact revenge and finally find out the truth, she proves one thing.

The past never stays in the past. There are some secrets that refuse to die.

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It was four o’clock on a raining June morning in 1989, when he was taken out of his cell and tied to the wooden post in the prison courtyard in East Berlin.

He had been beaten badly, and a lot of his teeth were subsequently missing. His face was also badly swollen and bruised, making it impossible to see out of one eye. It didn’t matter. In a few moments, he wouldn’t be seeing anything at all. Permanently.

He was dragged by two uniformed prison guards and tied tightly to the wooden post with rough rope. He raised his head slowly and squinted to clear his blurry eyesight in his one remaining good eye. He could see the five soldiers who had been detailed for firing squad duty. 

Why the hell did it take five men to kill one badly injured man tied to a wooden post? It felt like overkill. The thought made him chuckle.

“You’re facing a firing squad and you find something amusing?” said a voice in the shadows.

The prisoner looked up. “Death comes to all of us” he wheezed, “some sooner rather than later”.

“How philosophical” snorted the voice, “you should never have threatened me or assaulted me. For that, you will now die”.

The prisoner spat on the ground. “Go to hell”.

“I think you will be going there first” said the voice. “Colonel, carry out the sentence”.

“Yes sir” said the colonel in charge of the firing squad. He ordered his men to get into proper position. The sooner they got this grisly task done the sooner they could get back inside where it was warm and dry.

Moments later, a fusillade of bullets could be heard. Then the stamping of the boots as the firing squad was dismissed.


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