could push it until his strength gave out. There was another shot. He heard cars in the yard and saw figures in black pouring into the shed, flattening to the sides and dispersing. He rolled to his side, pinned by the chair arm to the man’s skull. In the strobe lights of the police cars, he saw Tim’s slumped figure still in the chair. To his horror, Seamus Mafferty was standing over the unconscious man with a gun. He raised it to Tim’s face, but then something exploded out of the back of the Irishman’s head, followed by more explosions from his back, and then the sound of suppressed gunfire caught up with the sight.
Ben watched all the action from the floor as he was being separated from Sean Mafferty. Dark figures removed the other Irishman’s body. When Tim was the only one left in the shed, the police were given clearance to enter. By this time, two more of his own department were helping Ben across the yard. One of them said calmly, “Boss is in the house. Wants to see you.” Ben nodded, stood straighter to indicate he could manage alone, and they faded back toward the helicopter.
By the time Ben reached the old farmhouse, his knee was so swollen he could feel the material of his jeans restricting the blood flow. He found Nikolas illuminated by a strong flashlight, in what had once been the kitchen. He hadn’t realised how bad he must look until he saw the expression that shot over the other man’s face. You’d have to be very quick to see it though, and when he spoke his voice was its usual neutral tone. “Benjamin.”
“Sir.”
Nikolas seemed deep in thought, staring at the wall. Ben wasn’t sure what was going through the man’s mind. He never did, even when they were joined, their bodies flooding with orgasm, even then he had no idea at all what Nikolas was thinking.
Finally, the other man turned and sat down at the table. “Good work. There’s enough forensic evidence here to link the Maffertys to all the cull threats.”
“How did they make me?”
“You have to stop upsetting people, Benjamin. You made an enemy on the course, apparently.”
“Bloody hell, that fucker Jock.”
“I believe you told him you’d peel his balls and eat them like grapes if he fucked with the protesters again.”
“Yeah, well.”
“He suspected you were not who you claimed to be and was very vocal at the pub one night.”
“Bugger. How did you find me?”
Nikolas gave him a look, shook his head despairingly, and murmured, “Do you actually know this is the twenty-first century?”
Ben eased himself into a chair opposite. “Tim Watson had nothing to do with—”
Nik waved away the rest of this. “I know. He was collateral damage. I’m told he may not make it. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time with misguided ideals.” He saw Ben’s expression and added grudgingly, “At least he had ideals.” He leant forward slightly. “And you, Benjamin. How are you?” He hesitated but then reached into a pocket and pulled out an immaculate handkerchief. Ben took it with a laugh of exhaustion and pain, unable to think what to do with it. He dabbed uselessly at the blood on his face until, with a sigh of exasperation, Nikolas rose and took it from him. Ben closed his eyes. His legs opened slightly, and Nikolas stood between them, cradling Ben’s broken face in the palm of one hand while he gently worked over the cuts. “Tip your head back.”
“This part of your job description, sir?”
“I wrote my own job description. Looking after my operatives is definitely on it.” He cleaned Ben’s face gently but effectively. He could do nothing about the broken nose or swollen eye.
“What now, sir?”
“Now? Now you fade back into the darkness, Benjamin, until you are needed again. A job well done.”
There was silence for a while. Nikolas eventually appeared to decide that he could do no more to return Ben’s
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