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Andrews UK - Morton Middleditch

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107 pages

English

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Eddie and his wife Sam, a former policewoman had busted a drugs cartel in Peru. The drugs baron, Millichip, follows them back to England seeking revenge.Jamie, bullied at school and a recluse, searches for his absent father to take revenge for his miserable life. As Millichip closes in, Eddie's and Sam's lives are in mortal danger, whilst the police close in on Jamie who is running out of options.

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Thriller

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	23 décembre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781785383779
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Back for Revenge
Morton Middleditch

Publisher Information
Published in 2015 by
AUK Authors, an imprint of
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
The right of Morton Middleditch to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2015 Morton Middleditch
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to those living or dead or otherwise is pure coincidence.

Chapter 1
The explosion of thunder overhead brought Bill out of his troubled snooze. He had been dreaming he was dying, which was almost certainly true, but whether he died from the cancer or from a bullet was the part that exercised most of his waking thinking.
The storm had swept in quickly. Before he had dozed of it was a bright windy day, typical of the wide-open Pampas.
Gazing out of the window was one of Bill’s greatest pleasures, but then it was a view to behold. Argentina, his home for so long and now the only safe refuge left to him. Elsewhere in the world he was at risk.
January was one of his favourite months. Normally the sun shone brightly in the summer but today the wind had brought the clouds and the rain was now torrential. The rumbles of thunder boomed across the pampas, but the storm was passing as quickly as it had come. He felt tired and he was almost nodding off again when someone entered the room. The clouds were receding. The summer sun was now shining and the air was clear.
“Senor Bill, why you come home?”
“Strange question, as I’ve been home for three years.”
“Don make fun of me, you know what I mean. I your only family now. I first to hold you after you born.”
Bill grinned. Angelo Ramirez, 82, not fluent in English but always forthright and stooped after years of hard work but always with a smile. Angelo was his last cherished family, all were dead and some his own doing. His mother had told him Angelo was the first person to cradle Bill in his arms as the doctor passed him over. That was nearly forty years ago. Angelo had been head of the house when family were not around but he had long since passed that job on to his son Emilio. Bill loved him. They were his only remaining family. His English was as faltering now as it was when he had taught Bill to hunt and fish.
“Well Angelo, this is the only home I have left now and so I would, if that is OK with you like to spend all my days here, but only if that is okay with you.” The sarcasm was lost on the old man who scuttled off to his favourite place, the kitchen.
Bill wished he could spend the rest of his life in this wonderful place; but that was going to prove most unlikely. Before him was a vast expanse of grassland. To one side of the farm buildings sat the old, somewhat dilapidated family Cessna; an essential tool for getting around in this remote wilderness. In front of him the pampas, his land, spread for fifty miles against the backdrop of the Andes; the magnificence of this part of Patagonia always tugged at his heart when he was away. This had been his great grandfather’s home. The old man had settled in Argentina when his whaling ship was wrecked in a terrible storm in 1876. He had decided to stay partly because there was no way to return to England but he had fallen in love and married the daughter of a wealthy Argentinean whose wife was English. They had built up massive estates and the estancia now had twenty rooms and outbuildings to house the hands.
Bill’s father had left to go to England after he was born to run other parts of the family’s extensive interests but he felt safe here. This had been his other family home where he spent time when business brought him to South America and when he needed to be absent from his other properties in England, Madrid and Lima; homes far away from the modest house in Solihull, the hub where the most lucrative part of the family business had been masterminded. It had made them wealthy but that was all history now. He was a wanted man, his parents and sister dead, the business gone.
Bill Millichip was on the run from police in a number of countries but here in Argentina he still felt safe. Maybe it was the thousands paid to corrupt policemen allowing him to feel so. It could change. Policemen came and went and maybe a new police chief might decide to cash in and turn him over to those who sought him. Everyone could be bought. Who would want him most, Peru, Spain or England?
He put the thought out of his mind. Since the cock up in Peru he had been untroubled at the family Estancia. His life was one of comparative luxury as a farmer with staff, whose loyalty to him had never wavered and he took for granted. Yet something still gnawed at him, unfinished business. He felt alone, denied the companionship of his sister Julia, cut down by a stray bullet from the gun of one of his own men. It had not mattered Julia was not his blood; adopted, he adored her. He felt no remorse in shooting her killer himself, but he also held others responsible.
If only Julia’s stupid boyfriend Eddie hadn’t stumbled into their camp in Peru looking for her, his problems would not have escalated, but Bill reserved his real hatred for Sam. It gnawed at his senses every waking moment. It was Sam, the policewoman who had befriended Julia to get close to his drug operation; it was she who Bill held to blame and one day she would pay for destroying his family and his business. He rang a bell and within seconds Emilio poked his head round the door.
“Emilio.”
“Yes, Bill.” Emilio was the only person who could call Bill by his first name. He had earned that right and it suited Bill.
“Find the boys and have them meet me at six o’ clock.”
“But they are out with the herd. I think they are back tomorrow morning.”
“Get one of the hands to bring them in tonight.”
Emilio hobbled out of the room to the ranch shed. He had been head gaucho but had been seriously injured in a riding accident and had taken over from Angelo as head of the house. Bill watched him with affection. He had served the family since he was a boy and at sixty performed a valuable service to Bill. He would die here and be buried with other members of the family, his grandfather and his father’s two brothers and their wives. Bill hoped he himself would be buried in the plot next to Angelo. The old man had come to him one day and asked for the plot next to a gnarled old yew tree in the corner of the family cemetery. Bill had readily agreed and the look of pleasure on the old man’s face was a delight when Bill had told him when his turn came he wished to buried alongside the old man.
Bill sat down in his favourite chair savouring this wonderful view. It was all he had left. The authorities had confiscated the apartments in Peru and Madrid and he had no idea about the house in Solihull. It wasn’t he didn’t care; there was simply nothing he could do about it. The stress of the last three years had taken its toll and he looked much older than his thirty-nine years. He felt something was wrong. He hadn’t seen the family doctor in England for some years and the pains he had been suffering were now getting more intense. The local doctor said it looked like a cancer and the symptoms suggested it might be at an advanced stage. He urged Bill to go to the specialists in the capital for more tests and treatment. So this was the next step and then it would be time to sort out the unfinished business in England. The risks would be great but he felt compelled to take revenge. He closed his eyes and thought about the country he had fled as a fugitive and wondered whether his next decision was really a sensible one to take. He drifted off to sleep.
Emilio tapped his boss on the shoulder and Bill woke with a start. He was always wary, he needed to be; it was part of his life now.
“The men will be back but not before nine, Sir.”
Thank you, Emilio. That will be all. Get cook to make some food, they’ll all be hungry but we’ll look after ourselves this evening.”
Emilio left the room. He was anxious. He had been born on the property. His father had been head ranch hand. He had been helping to fetch hot water when Bill was born. Whilst Angelo had taught him to hunt and fish it was Emilio who had taught Bill to ride. His own sons had gone to Buenos Aires preferring to live a different life. They had become part of the political scene and in 1970 became two of the thousands missing as part of the ‘Dirty War’. Emilio’s wife had died of heartbreak and all that had been left were the Millichips, his other family.
Bill was like a son to him and he owed him total loyalty; he would do anything for him. Emilio had coerced him to go to the doctor on the premise he was ill himself. Bill had taken him to see the doctor unaware there was nothing wrong with Emilio. Bill had laughed at the subterfuge but could not be angry. He knew he should have gone and now he was being sent to see the experts in Buenos Aires. Emilio knew all the family business but his sixth sense detected life, as he had known it for sixty years on this great Estancia might be coming to an end. He had no idea what would then happen to them all.
***
The boys came in prompt at nine. The table had been laid for eight. Bill’s gauchos were loyal men. They would die for Bill. They had grown up on the estancia