THE FOLLOWER: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 4) by Robert White

Author:Robert White [White, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert White
Published: 2017-12-21T22:00:00+00:00

Des Cogan’s Story:

I was kindae annoyed that Mitch had found me again. Then again, it wouldn’t take a genius to realise that one of us might turn up at Todd’s building.

On the other hand, I had a few questions of my own for the young Yank.

I followed him to a coffee shop a block away and we sat outside in the sunshine, me with a Fanta, Mitch with a Dr Pepper.

I nodded towards the American’s bottle. “Never could stand the stuff.”

He shrugged his huge shoulders. “That coming from a guy who drinks Irn Bru.”

I smiled and took a drink. Mitch did seem a nice fella, but from what Rick and Lauren had told me, he was firmly in the JE Blackman camp.

“Ye know why Rick has frozen you out, eh?”

“I have a notion, yes Sir.”

“Ye see Mitch, when ye get into a wee job like this, ye have to see the big picture. I mean, if you are going to slot the guys that murdered the young boy Todd, ye have to be sure you have the right folk in the first place. You can’t have your personal beliefs clouding your judgement.”

I could see he was fighting with himself inside.

“I am kind of angry with myself for the things I said to your folks yesterday. I just lost my way is all. Let my mouth run. See, I was brought up with the church, Mr Cogan. Just like thousands of other poor white kids in the South. We had nothin’ and there was nothin’ comin’ our way either. The only way out of that trailer was the Corps.”

I poured more orange over the ice in my glass.

“Ye are preaching to the converted here, Mitch. Ye think life was any different for me, eh? Two adults and seven kids in a house made for four with damp up the wall and rats in the yard. Oh aye, we had religion all right. All good Catholics we were. Couldnea afford meat for the table, but there was always money for the collection plate in the chapel on a Sunday, eh? The army was my escape too, pal. I couldnea wait to get away. Three squares a day. Ma own bed to sleep in. Wages every month.”

“But I’m not like you, Mr Cogan. I’ve not lost my religion. I still have the Lord in my heart and I don’t see the church as a bad thing. I see it as a blessing.”

“I’ve no lost my religion, son. Ye don’t lose Catholicism like spare change down the sofa. Ye may misplace it every now and again, but it’s always there to throw you a big slice of guilt once in a while.”

I leaned forward and fixed on the boy’s face. “Tell me this, Mitch, just like the Vatican in Rome… do ye never wonder where all the money goes, son? Do you never think what Golden Gate and the Reverend Billy Chapel do with that one hundred and eighty million dollars a year they

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