The Palindrome Cult: A gripping, page-turning, crime suspense thriller, its fast pace takes you from London to New York, via Dubai and the Virgin Islands. (Hedge & Cole Book 1)

by Kevin Bradley

  Hedge wasn’t quite sure how to respond. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Don’t give me that sir bullshit, Robert Mallam at your service. You can call me Bob.’ The ambassador held out his hand to Hedge.

  The Ambassador was then introduced to the other two, while Hedge continued to examine the photos. He looked up just in time to see the Ambassadors wife walking towards him.

  ‘So you are the famous Hedge,’ she said as she held out her hand to him. ‘My name is Mary so please call me by that name. I do hate all the normal formalities.’ She smiled kindly at him.

  He shook her hand gently. ‘I am very pleased to meet you Mary.’

  She looked at the shelf to see the photo that Hedge had been looking at. He looked down again at the silver framed photograph. The girl in the picture was wearing a white dress and she had a red ribbon in her hair. She looked to be about ten years old, he guessed. Then he looked again. There was something vaguely familiar about the face. He couldn’t quite place it. The girl had a white complexion, with a high cheekbone. Her eyes were very slightly slanted, almost Chinese but not quite, possibly East European.

  ‘I see you have been looking at our family photographs. This one is my daughter. It was taken just before her eleventh birthday. You know she was fascinated with letters and numbers when she was a little girl. She used to make up all kinds of names for her friends - real and imaginary!’

  The Ambassadors wife looked at Hedge with a knowing smile. ‘I know what you are thinking. She doesn’t look much like me. She was adopted by us when she was only two years old. We loved her like our own, of course.’

  ‘She’s very pretty,’ said Hedge. Where is she now? Does she live here in London?’

  Hedge thought he saw a dark shadow pass across the Ambassadors wife’s eyes.

  She swallowed, but managed to smile. ‘To be honest we are not sure. She went off track a little after she dropped out of university. She used to hang around with some radical thinking people after she left home to go off and complete her degree. She travelled around Europe quite a lot. We get the occasional letter from her, but she never gave us a forwarding address so we are unable to reply.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ said Hedge.

  ‘Yes a great pity, she was such a lovely girl. She had a wonderful imagination and was very motivated. She always said she wanted to be rich one day. The letters from her seem to be less and less frequent nowadays. They used to be every two or three weeks. The last one was about ten weeks ago. Now they seem to have dried up completely.’

  The Ambassadors wife moved her hand as if to wipe a tear from her eye, and then continued. ‘She loved writing and was fascinated with words, you know. She was so pleased the day she came home from school and announced to us that both her names are what are known as a Palindrome. Our family name is Mallam, you see. It spells the same forwards and backwards. Her first name did the same. She used to make up phrases like that too. Her favourite line was “live not on evil”’.

  She hesitated for a moment and she bit down on her bottom lip as if to steady her voice.

  ‘Yes, we all miss Anna,’ she said.

  Chapter Sixty Two

  Hedge recapped the conversation with the Ambassadors wife to Cole in the taxi as they drove away from the US Ambassador’s residence.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Cole, and he whistled softly to indicate the seriousness of what he had just heard. ‘So you have killed the daughter of the US Ambassador to the United Kingdom. Nice one. You will probably get a knighthood for services in respect of Anglo-American relations.’

  Cole laughed at his own joke, but Hedge turned his face and sat quietly looking out of the window. It was a dark night and the stars above London were blocked out by a thick layer of cloud. It was raining, only lightly, but just enough to make the scenery look bleak. That’s how Hedge felt – bleak. Yes, they had retrieved the money. Yes, they had eliminated the group calling itself the Palindrome Cult. Unfortunately he didn’t feel good. He had been responsible for the death of several people. It sat hard with him, particularly the young girl who liked numbers and words, and just wanted to be rich. Didn’t everyone?

  ‘Never mind, you’ll get over it,’ said Cole. ‘Anyway, regarding the identity of the girl, we had best keep that to ourselves. Our friends at MI5 will know, of course, but the Prime Minister won’t. He would be quite annoyed if he found out who the girl Anna really was.’

  ‘I guess he would,’ said Hedge. ‘He seems to have had a close relationship with the Ambassador.’

  ‘Indeed, he did. The ambassador’s family were regular guests at functions at Number Ten. It seems the PM had been especially interested in the ambassador’s daughter. Apparently, she was very good at arranging things for specific tastes.’

  Cole had a wide grin on his face as he said this. He had emphasised the words ‘specific tastes’, which Hedge assumed had a certain sexual connotation.

  ‘And how exactly would you know that?’ exclaimed Hedge.

  The taxi they were travelling in had stopped at a red traffic light. Cole nodded his head and pointed towards a building overlooking the road junction. High up on the wall was a set of surveillance cameras, all pointing in different directions.

  ‘We are all being watched,’ said Cole. ‘The police watch us, the government monitors the police, and the security services keep an eye on our enemies. So someone has to watch the government. You’d be amazed what these people get up to, even the PM., sometimes in his own office, so I’ve heard.’

  Cole managed to keep his face straight as he spoke.

  Hedge looked across at him and shook his head slowly. ‘Amazing,’ he said.

  ‘We now believe that Anna first got the idea of her high level blackmail operation from a liaison she set up for the PM. She must have found it so easy, enticing older men into her web. She couldn’t blackmail him, of course, as she couldn’t incriminate herself in any way. So she used other high-class girls to do the dirty work for her. The first victim was her father. She knew he was wealthy, and a “ladies” man. Easy money, so she thought.’

  Cole had stopped talking, but there was something bothering Hedge.

  ‘But …’

  ‘But, what?’ said Cole.

  ‘Well MI5 must have known who Anna was. They would be aware that she was the Ambassadors daughter. They were tracking her after all,’ said Hedge with a quizzical tone.

  ‘Who do you think runs the country?’ said Cole.

  ‘The government,’ Hedge replied.

  ‘Try again,’ responded Cole. ‘Remember those people watching us, watching all of us. Well it may suit them to have certain politicians and high-profile individuals under their influence. It’s amazing what some people will do for you when you have something shitty over them. Anna gave them a lot of shit!’

  ‘Are you suggesting that the security services allowed Anna to run her extortion racket,’ said Cole. He had a bemused look on his face.

  ‘Well, that’s one for you to ponder. Think about it like this. Did you kill an important foreign diplomat’s daughter, or have you killed an agent of MI5. Sweet dreams my young friend.’

  Hedge swallowed hard and then turned his head back towards the window next to him and he carried on looking out as London sped past.

  Epilogue

  It was almost a year later when Hedge received a letter with a Dubai postmark stamped on the front. As he opened the letter and took out the folded, handwritten page, a photograph fell out onto the floor. He picked it up and looked at the smiling face of the lady in the picture. She looked Arabic, with well-defined features. In her arms she held a small bundle, wrapped in a white blanket. The face of the baby was only just visible through the material wrapped around its head. He read the letter, smiled to himself, and then placed both the letter and the photograph back in the envelope.

  The Ambassadors wife never heard from her daughter again. She was deeply saddened by this, but had known this day would come. They
had grown apart so much in recent years, and Anna had never really got on well with Robert, her father. A new administration had come into power in the US, and they had appointed their own choice of Ambassador to the United Kingdom. So Robert Mallam and his wife had moved back to Washington, and he decided to retire from politics. He invested the money that was recovered for him in various companies listed on the New York stock exchange. They didn’t do particularly well, and he lost some of his investments. It didn’t trouble him too much as he was a very wealthy man.

  Maddie loved London from the very first moment she arrived there. She decided to stay on for a year or two and found a job working at the British Museum. She redecorated the spare bedroom in Hedge’s house, and lodged with him. She made many friends in London. After a few months she lost some of her Texan accent, and even managed to pick up a bit of Cockney rhyming slang. Her mother still spoke to her occasionally, although she never again heard the voice say ‘you are not alone’.

  The following spring, a Treasury minister presented a bill in parliament which proposed to reduce the security services budget by almost two percent. This was all part of the austerity measures designed to save the country money. Most of the government members of parliament supported the idea, but several high ranking ministers voted against the proposal. Political observers thought this was strange as these people were normally in favour of such spending cuts. The bill was defeated and never came into law.

  Hedge hadn’t seen or heard from Cole ever since they said goodbye in the London taxi.

  They will meet again though.

  THE END

  (but not quite ... see next page)

  The Missing Chapter!

  The original version of this book had a very different Chapter Forty Nine.

  This was the part where Hedge, under the influence of painkillers, was having his final dream about the lovely Amanda. I decided to remove my first draft of this chapter, as it was quite sexually explicit.

  The good news is that I still have that original version, the one where Hedge becomes a man.

  If you want me to forward to you my first draft Chapter Forty Nine, then simply email me and I will send it directly back to you.

  kevbradley999@gmail.com

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Regards

  Kevin Bradley

  Look out for these books by Kevin Bradley

  The Palindrome Cult

  (Hedge & Cole / Book 1)

  “A cracking good read, fast and furious, unputdownable”

  The Terminate Code

  (Hedge & Cole / Book 2)

  “A fantastic story, breathtaking and full of intrigue, unforgettable”

  The Transamerica Cell

  (Hedge & Cole / Book 3)

  “A gripping, tense thriller, you’ll be on the edge of your seat”

  The Cuba Cage

  (Hedge & Cole / Book 4)

  Due December 2017

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  Text copyright © 2017 Kevin Bradley

  All Rights Reserved

  The Palindrome Cult book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to my Dad, Joseph Cecil Bradley

  It’s just a shame that he is no longer with us, as he would have loved to have read my first book – although what he would think of it, I’m not too sure!

  The following are the opening two chapters of the 2nd book in the Hedge & Cole series.

  The Terminate Code by Kevin Bradley

  Chapter One

  The Iraqi rebel was holding a long-bladed, steel knife.

  He had managed to sneak up behind Oxley without being noticed. Suddenly, he pulled his arm back and lunged forward, aiming the knife at the white man’s head.

  Oxley heard a noise, and turned just in time. He dropped his rifle, and managed to deflect the evil looking blade with his forearm. The Arab pulled his arm back again though, readying himself for a second lunge. Oxley was momentarily blinded, as the sun’s rays reflected off the razor sharp blade. Then, in a split second, his mind started to focus. He had to disable his attacker. Just one direct hit from the knife was likely to be lethal.

  Oxley fumbled for his weapon, but he couldn’t reach it. The dark, skinned man was bearing down on him again. He was wearing a dirty, black turban, and his face was screwed up in anger. He wore no shirt, so his chest was bare. The man’s left nipple had been pierced, and a large, silver ring had been pushed into the hole under the skin.

  With his right hand, Oxley made a grab for the ring, and pulled as hard as he could. It came away from the Iraqi’s chest with ease, tearing a long piece of skin off at the same time.

  The Arab screamed in pain. The knife was forgotten about for an instant, as his eyes stared in horror at the blood pouring from the hole in his chest. A large flap of skin was hanging loose, and his nipple had completely detached itself.

  That fraction of a second was all the time Oxley needed. He grabbed his rifle, casually aimed it towards his assailant, and fired. The bullet entered the man’s jaw from underneath, and the top of his head disintegrated instantly. Oxley pushed the body to one side, took a few deep breaths, and turned his attention back to where it had been a few moments ago.

  Oxley ducked down just in time. The bullets were close. Several whistled by a few inches over his head, but most of them thumped into the wall in front of him. He was sweating, partly because it was a hot day, but also due to the adrenalin. He was on his own and pinned down. More bullets slammed into the wall.

  He was desperate for a drink. His throat was parched. He had long since used up his last water, so he would have to wait. Where were the rest of his team? They should have been here half an hour ago. He was running out of time.

  More bullets whistled overhead. This was not an unfamiliar situation for him, so he remained calm. He also knew his weapons. What he was being shot at with were RPK light machine guns. He could tell by the sound they made. They were Russian designed, first developed in the 1950’s. They were effective to a point, but in the hands of the Iraqi rebels shooting at him, not very accurate.

  He checked over the M16 rifle he had with him. Not his usual weapon of choice, but all that had been available for this mission. He looked to make sure it was still set to single shot, and took a deep breath. Jumping up straight, he rested his arm on the top of the wall, and levelled his rifle at the house where the rebels were shooting from.

  Holding his breath, his eyes were flashing from left to right. He could feel his heart pounding. This was a dangerous time. If several of the men opposing him shot at once he would be in danger. The same would be true if they had any high quality snipers in the area.

  His eyes were still searching. His heart was beating loudly in his ears. He was still holding his breath. Then there was a movement, the second floor window. A dark shape
, followed by a glint of light as the sun’s rays bounced off the barrel of the machine gun. Then there was a flash from the muzzle of the RPK.

  Oxley fired once, aiming at the flash. There was a loud shrieking noise, and the man went down. It was the last thing Oxley saw before he ducked down below the safety of the wall once more.

  He nodded to himself. It would have been disappointing if he’d have missed that shot. It was only about fifty yards. The guy didn’t really stand a chance. Advanced weapons instruction and marksmanship was available to all members of Her Majesty’s intelligence services, and Oxley hadn’t missed a single lesson.

  But right now Agent Oxley was bored.

  The trip to Baghdad had been several weeks ago, and with nothing better to think about, he had been reliving the excitement of it.

  For the last three days though, he had been watching people go in and out of the elevator on the fifth floor of the Mayfair Hotel. Admittedly, they were not just ordinary men and women. No, these were high ranking politicians and businessmen, coming to meet with the Chancellor of the Exchequer – the man who effectively controls the finances of the United Kingdom.