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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

As he screamed, she pistoned up on her good leg, groaned as she transitioned briefly to the other, then leapt high, pulling him backward with the handcuffs as she swept them over his head and around his throat. Pivoting again on her good leg, she dropped into a half-hip throw, taking him over fast and hard. His spine snapped a fraction of a second before she twisted, screamed with her own pain one last time, and shattered the vertebrae in his neck. Caitlin came down on top of his limp, twitching body.

She was crying. Crying with pain, and rage, and relief, and horror, when the young woman appeared by their entwined bodies.

‘I know you,’ Caitlin said, expecting to die. ‘I knew of your father. A good man. I know what they did to your family.’

She waved a hand weakly back in the direction of Blackstone and his men. It was all she had.

Sofia Pieraro was shaking. She tried to smile, but her face was twitching and rubbery and the effect was perverse.

Caitlin awkwardly disentangled herself from Baumer’s body. ‘If you want to help me, you can give me a hand up,’ she said. ‘We still need to get out of here.’

She could hear sirens coming closer. Boots pounding up a gravel path.

‘Miss Kate. Miss Kate. Are you in there?’

A familiar voice. A Polish accent.

‘It is Milosz. Of GROM.’

‘Come with me,’ said Caitlin. ‘Come quickly, if you want to live.’

TWO MONTHS LATER

‘The big bastard? The Rhino? He’s about ten, maybe fifteen minutes up the track that way,’ said the park ranger.

‘You know him?’ asked Jules.

He grinned. ‘Everyone knows the Rhino. Up that way,’ he pointed along the track that crawled uphill, skirting the edge of the Noosa National Park.

It was crowded with tourists and locals. The latter were easy to pick in their bare feet and board shorts, most of them carrying short boards around the headland to a surf break that was far enough off the tourist trail to discourage daytrippers. The tourists were just as easy to spot. Pink-skinned English backpackers, Chinese tour groups, small pods of fair-haired Swedes and Germans. And Americans, of course. There was no missing them; the loudest, most colourful diaspora in the world.

Those who’d washed up here on the Sunshine Coast tended to be the wealthier, luckier ones. There was nothing like the big American ghettos of western Sydney or New Town anywhere near this strip of Queensland coastal heaven. Shah had even told her that the odious St John siblings, Phoebe and Jason, had bought themselves a family compound up in the nearby Glasshouse Mountains. She hadn’t seen those wankers since they’d left the Aussie Rules in Sydney and very much hoped that wouldn’t change while she was in town to visit the Rhino.