Read Online Killer Country by Mike Nicol - Free Book Online Page A

have become used to crosses beside the road. The country is littered with them. But that photograph speaks of the aloneness, the emptiness, the indifference of the landscape. That is about our history. All those farmers were white. The descendants of settlers. People who took away the land from the indigenous people. And now the land is reclaiming itself.’ He stared at Mace, a slight smile on his lips. ‘Am I being fanciful? I don’t think so.’
    The judge stroked his clasp-bag. ‘I had a privileged childhood on that farm. Running wild with our dogs across my own huge playground. Such days in my own worlds. The magical worlds we make as boys, not so, Mr Bishop? For children there is no better place than a farm. An adventure wonderland.’ He paused to look at the photograph. ‘My father and his wife live on the farm,’ he said. ‘My father’s elderly. In his eighties. She’s slightly younger. My grandparents are buried there, and my great-grandparents. There are older graves which are probably my forebears. My father believes that if it was good enough for the previous generation to die on the farm then it is good enough for him. My grandparents died naturally. I am afraid that my father will die at the end of a gun. Some black men will get into the house one night…’ He let the sentence hang but his stare stayed on Mace’s face, searching in his eyes for sympathy. 
    Mace sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees. Was going to ask about the judge’s mother, then thought, no, don’t get involved. ‘We don’t do that sort of security, judge. Not our line of business.’
    ‘I know. I know,’ the judge waved his hand as if at a fly. ‘I know what you do. Big names. Top business people. Celebrities. Minor royalty. Surgical safaris. I know this. The people fly in, you babysit them, off they go again. The wild city doesn’t get in their face.’ He smiled, somewhat snidely Mace thought. ‘It’s not a big strain on you.’
    ‘The long and short of it.’
    ‘I’m not asking you to babysit. What I’m asking for is professional advice. You go out there, assess the situation, tell me what sort of security devices must go in. Maybe recommend a guard from your staff. I don’t know. We can work out a separate contract. Something.’
    The judge stopped, his face serious. Mace thought, hey, the man’s worried.
    ‘All I’m requesting is an opinion. Your recommendations. No commitment beyond that.’
    Mace sat up, stretched the muscles in his back. Why not do it? What was it going to take? Three, four days tops including travelling time. Get out into the wide open spaces. Had to be better than overnighting in Berlin. Had to be better than overnighting anywhere. He could take Christa. Father and daughter time. Said, ‘Okay, I can do that. I’m not sure about contracting a guard from my staff, that’s a different story. But I’ll check out the place for you.’
    Judge Telman Visser exhaled a sigh of relief. ‘I’m obliged. Thank you. You take a great weight off my mind, Mr Bishop. A considerable burden. I will be able to rest easy. You’ve knitted up what Shakespeare called the “ravelled sleave of care”. Do you know the quote?’ 
    Mace shrugged, not giving away that he did or didn’t.
    ‘Macbeth. Probably my favourite Shakespeare. And a great film version by Polanski I can recommend.’
    He stretched out his hand. Mace shook it: firm, strong, may even have been a hint of Masonic pressure and rub that he’d not noticed the first time. If it had been there the first time.
    ‘Now. When can you do this? The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.’
    ‘Can’t help you there,’ said Mace. ‘Probably not until late next week. The weekend.’
    ‘I see.’ The judge frowned. ‘That’s pushing it. I’d hoped for sooner.’
    ‘I’m in Berlin tomorrow, judge. Back Monday night. Tuesday, Wednesday, I’m duty bound. Wednesday night back to Berlin. Friday I’m home again. Friday’s the