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The Vengeance Man

Page 46

by John Macrae


  The inmates of his hut would all want to hear Chen's tale of the PLA's mysterious, half-crippled foreign prisoner with the piercing blue eyes, and his incomprehensible language: "Help me. Help me."

  Chen’s mouth moved as he practised imitating the strange sounds the foreigner had made; 'Help me. Help me'. It sounded like English.

  Maybe there was still some hope.

  If you enjoyed The Vengeance Man, why not try

  Raffles: The Gentleman Thief by Richard Foreman

  Chapter One

  A tendril of smoke gracefully swirled up from his cigarette into the low-lying, jaundiced fog. Jermyn Street was cast in such a gloom as to be worthy of a scene from Dickens – or Dante. Yet despite the noxious atmosphere – and the gelid air misting up my breath – I could still divine, like a lighthouse in the fiercest storm, the twinkle in my companion’s eye. Oh that incomparable, incorrigible, twinkle that had acted as a Siren song – seducing me and nearly dashing me upon the rocks of prison – these recent months.

  “We have had stranger jobs, more dangerous jobs and most decidedly more profitable jobs, my dear Bunny, but I warrant that there have been none so local,” Raffles wistfully expressed whilst extracting his trusty skeleton key from the inside pocket of his navy blue woollen blazer.

  I briefly considered the proximity of our first ‘job’ together on that fateful night in Bond Street on the Ides of March, but then nodded in agreement. We were but a few minutes from the Albany, where Raffles resided (when he was not visiting country estates and scoring runs during the day at cricket, and scoring loot at night as a gentleman thief – or I should rather say the gentleman thief).

  “The ice may not even have melted in your gin and tonic Bunny, by the time we return,” Raffles buoyantly added.

  The clip-clop of horses and the thrum of a carriage’s wheels approached and then rescinded. A party of late-night revellers, either heading to or from a club, could also be heard in the background. With his skeleton key, lifted from a porter at Browns Hotel, Raffles unlocked the back door to Hatchard’s of Piccadilly.

  “If knowledge is the key to everything Bunny, then this pick-lock runs it a close second,” Raffles remarked whilst holding up the skeleton key as it glinted – along with his aspect – in what little light the street offered.

  I tightened my sweaty grip around the handle of the black carpet bag which carried the tools of his trade (or rather our trade). I then gulped and forced myself through the door, which Raffles courteously held open for me. Fear slithered up and down my spine like an eel. I thought of a thousand things that could go wrong. Even after all this time Raffles had to be confident and courageous enough for the both of us, which thankfully he was.

  We soon came through to the back of the shop. I lit our lamp with a match, still trying in vain to noiselessly do so as Raffles could. Tables and shelves of books warmly glowed before us, the gold and silver leaf upon the spines shimmering in the amber haze.

  “There are riches here Bunny worth more than those housed in Aladdin’s cave,” my companion whispered in awe, his eyes feasting upon piled-up volumes of classic titles by Walter Scott, Edgar Allen Poe and Balzac. Raffles was as well-read as he was well-dressed. One was much more likely to find him reading an edition of Byron or Pope than pouring over the society pages or cricket scores even.

  A presentiment came over me however, as my gaze found itself inexplicably drawn to a solitary copy of Crime & Punishment squatting upon a table – and I cursed the day that I ever set foot across the threshold of 221b Baker Street.

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  * * *

  [1]. SISMI; the Italian Secret Sevice

  [2] Removed from the manuscript for security reasons .

  [3] The Psychiatric Wing of a MilitaryHospital

  [4] Deolali: the British Army’s psychiatric hospital in India during the Raj.

  [5] ‘Creggan Rules’. Creggan was a paticularly nasty IRA no-go area of Londonderry; ie, 'no rules.'

  [6] Deleted from the manuscript on security grounds.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  About the author

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1 Iran – Kurdistan

  CHAPTER 2 On the Run. North Western Iran

  CHAPTER 3 The Iran-Turkish Frontier

  CHAPTER 4 London

  CHAPTER 5 London

  CHAPTER 6 Pesaro, North East Italy

  CHAPTER 7 London

  CHAPTER 8 Spring, London

  CHAPTER 9 London

  CHAPTER 10 London

  CHAPTER 11 Whitehall's Revenge

  CHAPTER 12 Specialist Insurance services, London

  CHAPTER 13 A Nice Quiet Office Job in London

  CHAPTER 14 A London suburb

  CHAPTER 15 Prelude

  CHAPTER 16 Kent

  CHAPTER 17 London

  CHAPTER 18 The Strand

  CHAPTER 19 Brixton

  CHAPTER 20 London

  CHAPTER 21 Brixton

  CHAPTER 22 A marked increase in Gun Crime

  CHAPTER 23 A Little Relief

  CHAPTER 24 An Invitation, London

  CHAPTER 25 Dinner in Hampstead

  CHAPTER 26 THE ARMS OF VENUS, Warminster

  CHAPTER 27 TROUBLE AT ’T MILL, Central London

  CHAPTER 28 The New South Bank Show, River Thames.

  CHAPTER 29 A PINT WITH A PAL, Whitehall

  CHAPTER 30 Nocturne In Mayfair

  CHAPTER 31 The Diplomatic quarter

  CHAPTER 32 A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE The Flat

  CHAPTER 33 A LAST RIDE TO VALHALLA, London

  CHAPTER 34 EVEN THE WALLS HAVE EARS, London

  CHAPTER 35 A DOWNTURN in BUSINESS, London

  CHAPTER 36 THINGS ARE LOOKING UP? London

  CHAPTER 37 THE COMBINED INTERROGATION TEAM

  CHAPTER 38 TROUBLE

  CHAPTER 39 CONFESSIONAL

  CHAPTER 40 SOMETHING IN THE CITY

  CHAPTER 41 A Stroll On The Embankment

  CHAPTER 42 SURROUNDED?

  CHAPTER 43 A HOLIDAY ABROAD

  CHAPTER 44 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE PRESS, Wapping

  CHAPTER 45 Afghanistan; The Hindu Kush

  CHAPTER 46 THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

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