Read Online The Fine Line of Revenge by Martin Cox - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Martin Cox
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crowd back into the garden, where the smells of barbequing food made Jack’s mouth water uncontrollably.
It had been a meal of traditional picanha and spiced chicken all with an astonishing variety of rice dishes. As the female family members and the older children cleared away the feast, Anjo took Jack into another room. Paulo and another cousin, Fernando, were sitting at a small wooden table. A single, shade-less light hung from the ceiling, illuminating the table. In front of them, maps of the local area.
‘We have located the old fort, it is about an hours drive away,’ Paulo indicated, pointing to the map. Jack took a look, scanning the coastline up to the fort.
‘We need to see it before we can plan anything. We need to know what we are dealing with. I suggest we get ourselves a helicopter and approach from the sea.’
‘I think I know a place that will have one, but it will cost,’ Fernando answered, leaning into the gathering.
‘I don’t think that will be a problem,’ Jack replied, a smile on his face, and I think I can get a piece of technology that can help us map out the fort and how many inhabitants there are.
The air had turned cold. Anjo was sitting in a small wooden chair, taking in the cooling air, the last smells of the feast fading into nothing. Her mother was draping a thick, orange blanket over her as Jack walked through the patio doors into the garden. Jack pulled up a chair next to her and slowly sat down.
‘Having second thoughts?’ he asked, with concern.
‘If I’m honest, yes. I did not think that there would have to be all this organisation, just to get to one man.’ replied Anjo, wrapping the blanket tightly around her body.
‘It would never be wise to enter into anything without preparation. That’s the quickest route to uncertainty’, Jack explained. ‘We need to know what we are facing. The man has a lot to protect. And so do you. I’m sure you want to protect your family. We can do this without you being identified. It will just take a little longer than you thought.’
‘But I had him, I did have a plan and he just disappeared.’ It was at this point that Jack decided to kill the conversation.
‘We best get our sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow.’ He got up from his chair and entered the house, passing Fernando in the doorway.
‘Boa noite,’ smiled Fernando.
‘Good night,’ Jack replied, and he headed for his room.
Fernando took the seat next to Anjo.
‘Can we trust this man? I know you have said we can but you cannot be too careful,’ questioned Fernando, pulling a lighter from his pocket and lighting the cigarette that was behind his ear.
‘He has suffered as we have and I have seen what he is capable of. He will help us and yes, he can be trusted,’ Anjo replied. With that she rose from her chair and kissed her cousin on the cheek.
‘Good night, cousin.’ Fernando sat in silence, the last of the orange sky, turning to black.
In his room, Jack took out his phone and scrolled down to reveal a number tagged as Brody Mackintosh. Jack pressed dial.
The wind was settling as midday arrived. It had been a hot two-hour drive but they were finally there. The airfield was home to a small tower and four tarnished hangers, two either side of a small runway. Off to one side a large concreted area, four helicopters neatly lined up, rotor blades dancing in the breeze. There was no sign of anyone. Jack leaned across to Anjo and told her to pull up outside the hanger with the door slightly ajar. Anjo banged on the sizeable shutter. The instant sound of dropping tools could be heard, followed by footsteps. A hand appeared around the door, moving its bulk, increasing the gap. Anjo stood back as a short, stout man appeared in oil-stained, grey overalls.
‘ How can I help you?’ he said in Portuguese, his thick, grey moustache in motion as he spoke.
‘We phoned yesterday evening about
It had been a meal of traditional picanha and spiced chicken all with an astonishing variety of rice dishes. As the female family members and the older children cleared away the feast, Anjo took Jack into another room. Paulo and another cousin, Fernando, were sitting at a small wooden table. A single, shade-less light hung from the ceiling, illuminating the table. In front of them, maps of the local area.
‘We have located the old fort, it is about an hours drive away,’ Paulo indicated, pointing to the map. Jack took a look, scanning the coastline up to the fort.
‘We need to see it before we can plan anything. We need to know what we are dealing with. I suggest we get ourselves a helicopter and approach from the sea.’
‘I think I know a place that will have one, but it will cost,’ Fernando answered, leaning into the gathering.
‘I don’t think that will be a problem,’ Jack replied, a smile on his face, and I think I can get a piece of technology that can help us map out the fort and how many inhabitants there are.
The air had turned cold. Anjo was sitting in a small wooden chair, taking in the cooling air, the last smells of the feast fading into nothing. Her mother was draping a thick, orange blanket over her as Jack walked through the patio doors into the garden. Jack pulled up a chair next to her and slowly sat down.
‘Having second thoughts?’ he asked, with concern.
‘If I’m honest, yes. I did not think that there would have to be all this organisation, just to get to one man.’ replied Anjo, wrapping the blanket tightly around her body.
‘It would never be wise to enter into anything without preparation. That’s the quickest route to uncertainty’, Jack explained. ‘We need to know what we are facing. The man has a lot to protect. And so do you. I’m sure you want to protect your family. We can do this without you being identified. It will just take a little longer than you thought.’
‘But I had him, I did have a plan and he just disappeared.’ It was at this point that Jack decided to kill the conversation.
‘We best get our sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow.’ He got up from his chair and entered the house, passing Fernando in the doorway.
‘Boa noite,’ smiled Fernando.
‘Good night,’ Jack replied, and he headed for his room.
Fernando took the seat next to Anjo.
‘Can we trust this man? I know you have said we can but you cannot be too careful,’ questioned Fernando, pulling a lighter from his pocket and lighting the cigarette that was behind his ear.
‘He has suffered as we have and I have seen what he is capable of. He will help us and yes, he can be trusted,’ Anjo replied. With that she rose from her chair and kissed her cousin on the cheek.
‘Good night, cousin.’ Fernando sat in silence, the last of the orange sky, turning to black.
In his room, Jack took out his phone and scrolled down to reveal a number tagged as Brody Mackintosh. Jack pressed dial.
The wind was settling as midday arrived. It had been a hot two-hour drive but they were finally there. The airfield was home to a small tower and four tarnished hangers, two either side of a small runway. Off to one side a large concreted area, four helicopters neatly lined up, rotor blades dancing in the breeze. There was no sign of anyone. Jack leaned across to Anjo and told her to pull up outside the hanger with the door slightly ajar. Anjo banged on the sizeable shutter. The instant sound of dropping tools could be heard, followed by footsteps. A hand appeared around the door, moving its bulk, increasing the gap. Anjo stood back as a short, stout man appeared in oil-stained, grey overalls.
‘ How can I help you?’ he said in Portuguese, his thick, grey moustache in motion as he spoke.
‘We phoned yesterday evening about
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