The Enemy Inside by Scott Hunter

Author:Scott Hunter [Hunter, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Myrtle Villa Publishing

They’d done their homework, knew his intentions, were familiar with his background; the fact that his parents had moved north, that he’d stayed behind as a lodger – or as was turning out, virtually the adopted son – of the Hannigan family. About his career, his training.

And about Janice.

The threat was real, the leverage huge. So, was there a choice? Really?

‘Hello? Are you in there somewhere?’

Janice’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. They were walking arm-in-arm towards the Hannigan’s farmhouse, the place Moran had called home for two years. He turned to his fiancée with a smile. ‘Sorry, I’m here, honest.’

Janice gave him a look. ‘You’ve been preoccupied all evening. What’s up? I hardly got a word out of you at Keelan’s, so I didn’t.’

‘Nothing. Just work, that’s all.’

‘I know you, Brendan Moran. Something’s bugging you. Is it me?’

He stopped and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘You?’ He shook his head. ‘Good God, no. Never.’

Janice eyed him suspiciously. ‘Then what? It’s not so crazy busy on the crime front around here that anything should be worryin’ you like this. Is it the job thing? England, I mean?’

He’d broached the subject of a possible career move and Janice had been, as he’d anticipated, cautious but supportive. He hadn’t said much, except to run the idea past her.

He shook his head. ‘No, not that.’ He took her chin and tilted it up so he could kiss her. The kiss lasted a long time. When they eventually parted she treated him to the special smile which was always just for him; her face lit up and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

‘So I can see you’ve other ambitions tonight, Brendan, but I’ve to get an early start tomorrow, so don’t you be gettin’ any ideas.’

He laughed. ‘At least stay for a brew, then.’

‘I’ll allow that, I suppose.’ Her eyes twinkled.

Later, alone in his bedroom and unable to sleep, he tried to recall the details of the brief conversation he’d had with the dark-haired man.

We’d like a wee bit of help, Brendan…

The next day he was on tenterhooks, waiting for something yet not knowing what he was waiting for. Another day passed, then another, then a week. Soon, the conversation in the bar became – if not a distant memory – then certainly something of a damp squib, to quote one of his father’s expressions. A ‘no show’, to quote another. Moran relaxed. He continued to read the sits vac column in the UK dailies. There was a job in England, at Thames Valley Constabulary. Prospects looked good. It sounded right. It felt right. He chatted to Janice about it. She agreed. It was a career-progressser, an opener. He should apply. Which he did, and the wait began. Would he get an interview?

His friend, Joe, called him. ‘Hey Brendan, what about that road trip? Are you up for it or what?’

Moran had given the notion some thought and concluded: why not? It would be good to have a proper catch up with his old buddy.

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