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Back Angels of Vengeance
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

He actually laughed at that as he stepped into the shower and let the hot water play over his head; an unkind, braying bark that did as little to improve his mood as the shower did to make him feel any better physically. He was really suffering. It was starting to worry him. But not as much as Agent Monroe.

Had she done to him what he’d done to Kip? Namely, acting with a semblance of obedience for the sole purpose of arranging events to suit herself.

He scrubbed at his scalp as the stinging hot water battered away at the edges of his hangover and his illness. He was having trouble swallowing, and wondered whether he might be coming down with the flu. There was a monster flu bug getting around Seattle right now, like something out of Stephen King. Be just his fucking luck to get it when he could least afford to. He leaned both hands against the wall and let the hot water massage the back of his neck. His belly hung huge and low over his thighs.

He was going to have to get back into shape when this was done. Been promising Marilyn for months that he would do something about his weight and his fitness, but there was always some reason, some excellent excuse for not taking that first step. Another meeting, another crisis, another fire to put out. How the hell was he supposed to look after himself when he spent every waking hour, and then some, looking after the country. And if a guy couldn’t reward himself at the end of the day with a decent drink and a lousy fucking pizza . . . well, fuck. What was the point?

His stomach rolled over again. He gritted his teeth and promised himself he would do something as soon as he could. Marilyn was right. He’d really let himself go.

First, however, first he had to finish Blackstone, and deal with whatever Monroe had set in train down there. Maybe Kipper had been right about her. Maybe she was the wrong tool. A tactical nuke, when a stiletto was more appropriate.

She’d done something similar in the Federation, he recalled, after breaking Lupérico out of that detention centre. Caitlin Monroe had taken what she needed for her mission, in that instance, and then taken a man’s life of her own accord.

How would she play this one? he wondered.

54

FORT HOOD, KILLEEN, TEXAS ADMINISTRATIVE DIVISION

She launched herself at him.