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Back Angels of Vengeance Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Blurb
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Dedication
  4. CHARACTER LIST
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. TWO MONTHS LATER
  60. ONE YEAR LATER
  61. TWO YEARS LATER
  62. FOUR YEARS LATER
  63. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  64. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  65. Also by John Birmingham
  66. ALSO BY JOHN BIRMINGHAM
  67. Copyright
  68. Cover

At 1800 hours sharp – Katherine Murdoch was nothing if not punctual – she stepped out of the elevator into the lobby and made her way to the bar. She saw Musso straightaway, sitting with an athletic-looking middle-aged man, who seemed a couple of years older than forty-two because of his iron-grey hair. Major Tyrone McCutcheon.

The two men stood as she approached, while being observed by everybody in the bar. The crowd seem to have swelled to two or three times the number she’d noted earlier.

‘Colonel Katherine Murdoch,’ said Tusk Musso, ‘I’d like you to meet Governor Blackstone’s senior aide, Ty McCutcheon . . . Mr McCutcheon, Colonel Murdoch has joined us from Dearborn House to have a look at the situation with Roberto. I’m hoping you’ll be able to work well together.’

‘So am I,’ replied McCutcheon, smiling.

She took his hand.

‘That depends on whether or not you’re going to try to shake me down with all the chickenshit security theatre you’ve been using to make everyone’s life a fucking misery around here,’ she spat, before sitting herself down and signalling to the waitress that she was ready for a drink.

She was only the person moving or making any noise in the room.

35

DARWIN, NORTHERN TERRITORY

Shah’s men were good. Julianne slept through the night, and when she awoke – well after dawn, to judge by the brightness of the morning light streaming in around the edges of the curtains – she realised with a slight start that they’d been in her room. In just a few hours, her fusty, crushed, stinking clothes seemed to have been quietly spirited out of her small backpack, laundered and returned, crisp, dry and folded. A small selection of other items of clothing, all of them more suited to summer in the tropics than her rags, hung from the door handle or lay draped across the back of the room’s only chair.

She put aside her surprise, however, and any natural disquiet. Birendra was supervising them, after all, and these men had gathered around her in a protective shield at the behest of Narayan Shah. At any rate, her concern was marginal. After years of shipboard life, she had a high tolerance for people messing around in her personal space. Sometimes it was necessary. No point in being precious.