Deep Cover by Aiden Bailey

Author:Aiden Bailey [Bailey, Aiden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

36

Western Cape, South Africa

It was four hours into his bus journey along the N1 Highway before Mark Pierce finally relaxed. If the police hadn’t stopped and searched the bus by now, they never would. Perhaps this was because the South African authorities had never pursued him, never suspecting his involvement in the killings.

He again studied the cabin of the modern coach. It featured an onboard toilet, comfortable seats and air-conditioning for the passengers who could afford this level of comfort in their travels, who were a mixture of locals and tourists of many ethnicities. The young man next to him snored lightly, his head resting on his jacket pressed up against the glass window. They hadn’t talked during the long drive to Johannesburg, which suited Pierce. Everything about this setting was perfect because Pierce didn’t stand out.

He wore his headphones so no one would talk to him, and kept his cap low, then locked his phone, leaned back in his seat and tried to sleep.

He couldn’t.

He checked his hands. They weren’t shaking now when it wouldn’t have mattered if they did. The randomness of the tremors coming and going infuriated him.

Pierce had experienced mild tremors for many years now, but after a grenade blast in Yemen during a mission behind enemy lines, his shakes had worsened. Too much alcohol and a lack of sleep aggravated his condition, so he avoided both as much as possible — no easy accomplishment in his “profession”. The only means by which he could control his tremors was by stilling his mind, through meditation and clearing his head of all thought. A technique that wasn’t always practical and didn’t always produce results, like today hanging by a rope off the edge of a skyscraper. The tremors had almost killed him in Cape Town. They might kill him in the future.

He clenched his hand into a fist and stared out the window. The landscape was rolling hills with flat scrub grass and cloudless horizons. Behind the bus, the setting sun turned the sky and landscapes into hues of reds, oranges, purples and blues.

His cell phone pinged. A conversation had recorded on Rupert Ponsonby’s phone and was ready for listening.

Pierce pressed play.

“Fucking hell! You took your time calling back!” Ponsonby yelled down the phone line. “I almost fucking died today!”

“It’s only been nine minutes since I got your message. Get a grip.”

Hearing Idris Walsh’s voice again, his body broke out in a sweat as every muscle tensed.

He imagined pressing a pistol against Walsh’s forehead and squeezing the trigger…

He imagined Walsh begging for his life, and Pierce denying the spymaster his wish…

He imagined… much more…

Shaking his head to clear away his self-destructive thoughts, Pierce checked to ensure he’d backed up the conversation on a cloud computing account he had established earlier, which he had not done with the last conversation while distracted with the sniper rifle in his hand. With this conversation backed up, he continued listening.

“No, you get a grip! First someone tries to assassinate me! Then

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