The Mark of Halam
Page 31
In the next cabinet meeting the mood was gloomy. The Australian prime minister had already been on the phone informing the New Zealand prime minister that as New Zealand was not prepared to accept its share of security responsibilities it was on its own. The message from the United States was blunter. Friend or foe. Make your choice. Parliament, by appeasing the population at large, had to now face an uncertain future as a defenseless nation.
The prime minister was not totally at a loss. She was convinced that when the time came the United Nations would deal with any threat. And as New Zealand was not a threat then it would not become threatened. The older and wiser heads shook their heads in despair, knowing full well the UN was not to be relied upon.
Five kilometres from the outskirts of Rome, Avni Leka stood on the balcony of his villa. It was a warm, clear day and he could see to the end of the valley stretched out before him. He had checked his bank account and the thirty million euros had been deposited. His clients had been very happy with the events in Auckland. Nuclear ships were now banned. New Zealand was defenseless, and phase two of their operation could begin.
Avni turned his thoughts to the men he had lost. It was a pity to lose Sami Hadani and especially Zahar. Reliable killers were hard to replace, but not impossible. And then there was Jeff Bradley. Once again he had interfered and once again he had proved to be troublesome and once again he had survived. But his time would come. Sooner or later luck runs out, and the day it ran out for Jeff Bradley would be a truly happy day for Avni Leka.
Jeff, his arm in a sling and his chest heavily bandaged, stood in the park outside Mary’s apartment. The small grassed area was now a memorial site covered with crosses, flowers and teddy bears and cards and letters. Mary clung to Jeff’s good arm.
“So many innocent lives lost,” Jeff whispered.
They moved forward and placed their bouquets next to a cross, then said silent prayers before stepping back. Jeff dipped his hand into his jacket pocket and ran fingers across the chain he had ripped from Zahar Akbar’s neck. He made a silent promise to the dead that he would find Avni Leka and shove the chain down his throat.
Mary removed a tissue from her bag and dabbed at her eyes. Jeff put his arm around her shoulders and gave a comforting squeeze. As the wind whistled through the leaves of the oak that stood at the park entrance, he cast an eye one last time over the crosses and flowers. He would carry the image with him until Leka was dead.
“What now, Jeff?” Mary asked.
“I have an auction to worry about, but first, I’m taking you to lunch.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many have helped with the writing of this novel and apologies to those of you I have forgotten. Thank you to Conan and Renay Brown, Emma Skelton, Shawn Rutene and to Bernard and Gaynor Brown for their continued support. To Capt. Martin Knight-Willis MC Rtd. and Capt. K.E. McKee-Wright MBE Rtd. for advice on military tactics. To Adrian Blackburn for invaluable assistance in identifying so much I didn’t know. Assessor Cate Hogan (www.catehogan.com) for her invaluable wisdom and insights. As always a big thank you to Emilie Marneur and Katie Green and the rest of the very talented Thomas & Mercer team.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2013 Sharlene Ferguson
Thomas Ryan has been a soldier in a theatre of war, traded in Eastern Europe, trampled the jungles of Asia and struggled through the trials of love and loss: ideal life experiences for a would-be author. Schooled by professionals who have helped him hone his literary style, Ryan is quickly establishing himself as a skilled writer of riveting thrillers and short stories. He considers himself foremost a storyteller, a creator who has plunged his psyche into the world of imagination and fantasy. Taking readers on a thrilling journey is what motivates Ryan as a writer.