His hands were unsteady as he assembled the sections of his rod, the rod that Annie had given him all those years ago. The rod that had been steadfast and true. Greg threaded the line down through the rings and fed some small sprats he’d brought from the freezer on to the hook. He cast out and even the quiet slap of his line on the water failed to lift his spirits. After a moment he reeled the line in, smoothly, smoothly . . . easy does it. You had to be careful with pike or they could quite easily get the better of you. They were a solitary fish that would feed on any living thing in its path – even their own kind.

Greg always felt tense when he was fishing for this cunning predator. It had a coiled, explosive power that could be unleashed by one thrust from its powerful tail, which gave it a stunning turn of speed. You had to be on your toes to land one of these.

He cast again and began to reel in. Seconds later, the line snagged. He hit it quick and the fish was off with a bang that vibrated through Greg’s chest. It was a big one and the reel screamed in protest as the fish took flight; the line, stretching to breaking point, went with it. He held it tight, played it, teased the fish in, slowly, slowly . . . as it fought against its constraint.

The fish thrashed in the depths of the water but Greg was immovable. He could feel it tiring, tiring, giving up the struggle as it realised that it had been beaten. He brought the fish close to the bank, finally coming face-to-face with his quarry, its mouth open to display its fearsome, needle-sharp teeth.

Greg pulled it over his net and lifted it out to the bank. It was eighteen pounds at least. He wrested the hook from its gaping mouth. The fish gasped, its muscular body heaving. The terror of the river, stranded, fighting now for its every breath. Not so frightening now, Greg thought.

For the first time, he wanted to kill a fish, to smash its skull beneath his hands, cudgel it to death. Greg sank to his knees, tears in his eyes. Was this what it had come to? Was there no other way he could get this emotion out?

He lifted the fish, cradling it to him. This would be a grinning photo opportunity for his friend Ray, but catching, defeating this fish had given Greg no joy.

Greg lowered the fish to the water and let it go, watching numbly as it quickly swam away. He’d overcome the ultimate river predator, but how would he fare against predators of the human kind? If that Blake Chadwick bloke wanted to steal his wife away, would he be able to stop him? Would Greg put up a decent fight? And, this time, would he be victorious again?

Chapter 107

Chapter 107