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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

She’d expected this to be hard, confronting, and yet she felt nothing beyond a deep sense of satisfaction as she scanned the windows of the Hy Top for more targets. Rifle fire popped around her but she paid it no mind. The adrenaline flow gave her a rush that was far more intense than anything she’d experienced when out deer hunting.

The same rush, attenuated by time and distance, but strong enough to leave her dizzy and gasping for breath, stole over her as she sat at the table in the loft at Northtown, vanished into the past. Her cheeks burned bright red and her eyes were lost, staring far beyond the walls of the apartment.

She heard the tok-tok-tok of semi-automatic weapons fire again. Recognised it as a Chinese assault rifle, cycling through a magazine.

Then she recognised it as something quite different. It was knocking, loud and insistent knocking, on the door of the apartment . . . Torn out of her pleasant reverie, she pushed her chair back, almost upending it as she hurried to answer the door.

She had no idea who it could be. Papa had his keys; he was wearing them on the ring he always carried at his hip. Besides, he would’ve been calling her name. Sofia put her eye to the spy-hole. Her heart stopped beating. It actually stopped, dead in her chest, she was sure.

Two uniformed police officers were standing in the hallway outside her apartment.

Her first thought was for her father.

Papa?

11

FORMER URUGUAYAN–ARGENTINIAN BORDER REGION, SOUTH AMERICAN FEDERATION

Ramón Lupérico was much weakened by his ordeal. The former administrator of the small French detention centre in Guadeloupe, a state-run facility that appeared nowhere in the public records of the French state, he did his best to match the pace of his liberator as they hurried through the thick forest. He was desperately glad to be free, of course, but not at all comfortable about being dragged through the primordial wilds by this woman. His lungs burned and muscles quivered, and he’d been stung more times than he could count by fiendish insects of all sorts. Ants, flies, mosquitoes, even a wasp on one occasion, he was sure. The woman had sprayed some sort of aerosol in his face when he complained, but otherwise she seemed entirely unsympathetic. At least the spray had kept the insects at bay.

He had thought her French when she’d spoken back at Facility 183, but now he was not so sure. She hadn’t talked much at all since pushing him out the door of the old police station, past the bodies of his former jailers, but when she did speak he was sure he detected a slightly guttural North American tone in her accent. Canadian perhaps – a Québécois?