The Border Reiver by Christofides Nick

Author:Christofides, Nick [Christofides, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Cambria Books
Published: 2015-03-18T16:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

As they sat in the little valley, sipping hot coffee in the fresh morning, half a mile away a ghostly figure floated silently across the farmyard and into the barns. He felt his way across the dark space, the smell of dust and petrol thick within his nose. He didn’t stop to look at what might be in the barn; he was looking for a safe place. He found it in the ladder leading up to the hay loft. He climbed the rickety old wood which creaked wildly under every step and he positioned himself on the edge of the platform with his legs dangling. He perched because he was unsure about the floorboards, he couldn’t risk them being rotten and him crashing through and injuring himself so he stuck to the much thicker joist which made the frame of the mezzanine.

He removed the light weight sniper’s rifle from across his back and placed it on his left, he took the silenced revolver from the holster under his arm and gently put it next to his right hand. He carefully adjusted the weapons so that both barrels were exactly parallel with his thighs; he couldn’t help himself, over the years the detail became everything to him.

It was at these moments of calm that he could reflect on his forty-eight years, twenty-five of which had been spent in solitude, in the shadows behind enemy lines mostly. His history was remarkable even in military circles; in fact, if there were no dusty old battered file holding a full account of his service history somewhere in the military records office, his life would be unbelievable. He had a skill for evading death or detection, a lust for solitude and a detachment which meant he carried on where most would break.

He had the same eyes as his brother, but where Baines had puffed and rounded a little due to the comforts of middle age and position, the ghost had wizened. He was no bad man, but he was focussed on his task. His eyes betrayed that determination by offering no emotion, no deviation from the plan, which often in practice resulted in no mercy. Right then he pulled the phone from its case on his chest and dialled the only number he ever dialled. The call was answered immediately.

“Things have changed, Tom,” Baines spoke urgently; he had not used the agent’s first name in years.

“Tell me,” said the spectre sitting in the darkness in Nat’s barn, his voice no more than a whisper.

“I am having some problems here - I have been usurped, but he can't risk kicking me out. I am the revolution, he needs me.”

“What about the Establishment, the international community?”

“No and no, I'm adrift.”

“You’re in the shit, Ben. Can I stop babysitting this farmer now?”

“No, he is possibly a good distraction for us.”

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘for us’?”

“Right, I contacted Trevor Eastman.”

“Ok well, he will support you while you’re useful.” There was a pause and

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