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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

Caitlin took the paper bag, finding herself unexpectedly touched by the soldier’s gesture. ‘Why thank you, Sergeant,’ she said. ‘I promise I’ll read this book again. It’s been a long time. Not tonight, of course, but I will read it.’

Milosz’s face lit up as they pulled on to Adams and began to speed up.

‘So you are familiar with this Gatsby character? Who is he, do you think, Miss Kate? He appears to be a little shady to me. Perhaps one thing, perhaps another.’

The Jeep began to eat up the tarmac as they headed for the Dodgen Loop. The break in the clouds sealed itself up again, plunging the ruined landscape outside the car back into darkness.

‘Well, let’s see,’ replied Caitlin. ‘As I recall, Gatsby is us, Sergeant Milosz. All of us. As you say, perhaps one thing, perhaps another. Not really to be trusted.’

Milosz nodded sagely. ‘I see. I thought he was filthy rum Johnny who made free with other men’s women. Good thing for him to be shot in pool at end of book, no? It is what makes America great to be weeding out his sort.’

‘Who’s to know, Sergeant?’ Caitlin said as they rounded the corner and sped up, heading for Fort Hood. ‘Who’s to know?’

48

DEARBORN HOUSE, SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

James Kipper was still uncomfortable hearing his own voice on the radio. He couldn’t help thinking of Kermit the frog addressing issues of national importance.

‘Oh, just get over yourself,’ Barbara told him. ‘You have a nice, deep presidential voice. You’re just not used to hearing it like everybody else.’

‘She’s right,’ said Culver, as he swirled a small measure of brandy in a crystal balloon. He was leaning an elbow on the mantelpiece over the drawing room’s fireplace. ‘You sound fine, Mr President.’

It wasn’t unusual for the Chief of Staff to still be working through the middle of the evening, but it wasn’t every night he joined the First Family in their private quarters either. He was here tonight at Kip’s insistence. Jed was one of the few people he could trust not to let due deference to the office get in the way of calling ‘Bullshit!’ when the call had to be made.

A brief fanfare of trumpets on the radio announced the start of his weekly fireside chat, which this Monday night they really were huddled around a crackling fire to hear – as were most people in Seattle and beyond, with wood- or coal-fired heaters. Now into the third week of December, you could smell the smoke in the air at night.