Remember Brave Achilles (New England Book 4) by James Philip

Author:James Philip [Philip, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Sunday 9th April

Pelayos, Castile and León

Melody Danson knew she ought, by now, to be thoroughly inured to the realities of surviving, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day in the madhouse that she and Henrietta De L’Isle had been stumbling through the last few weeks. However, she was not in any way fully acclimatised to those realities, and this clearly irritated Paul Nash.

“How could you possibly know these people were Inquisitors on their way to Puente de Congosto?” She demanded, as the man dragged the third body to the side of the road and rolled it unceremoniously into the ditch on top of the other two men.

Two of the men had had loaded revolvers, all three had had wicked switchblades, knuckledusters and coshes in their jacket pockets.

Paul Nash had ordered Albert, Stanton, Henrietta De L’Isle and Pedro to lie down behind a wall just north of the tiny village they had just passed through after abandoning the car – a thirty-year-old Ford, the only vehicle in Congosto – they had stolen after escaping from the late Brother Mariano and his ‘flock’.

‘You,’ Nash had barked at Melody, ‘come with me. Look as if you can’t make up your mind if you’re trying to stop me falling on my face or you want to give me a piece of your mind.’

So, they had walked up the road towards the approaching car acting like a bickering couple, pointing and gesticulating with only half-feigned anger.

‘Why did you have to do that to that woman back there?’ Melody had put to Paul Nash. ‘You could have killed her!’

Consuela had taken unkindly to Nash kicking down her door.

‘She tried to put a knife in my eye,’ the man retorted. ‘I punched her in the throat. What was I supposed to do? Let those two-faced hand bastards you over to the Inquisition?’

‘Well, no…’ Melody was not finished; in fact, she had hardly started: ‘Did you really have to shoot both those men?’

‘Yes, I did have to shoot them both! There’s only one of me, in case you hadn’t noticed. I don’t have the luxury of playing patter-cakes with people who mean us, you, me, Henrietta and the others harm. If I get sloppy, if I make a mistake, or I get sentimental that’s it, game over! For all of us!’

That was when, without warning, he had pushed Melody – quite hard, she thought but only after she had got over her shock - into the path of the ongoing vehicle.

Not unnaturally, she had screamed in a very convincing way, no doubt suggesting to the occupants of the car that she was every bit as shocked and terrified as she seemed.

There had been a squeal of brakes and the air had clouded with dust. Seconds later the three men in the car were dead and their blood was liberally spread around the inside of the otherwise spic and span, well-polished, only ten-year-old German limousine.

“There are bound to be blankets in the boot,” Nash observed conversationally. “It gets cold at night and cars break down a lot on these roads.

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