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Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  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. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

‘Wait a moment. Jesus, what’s going on today?’ He went to talk to Marg, the telephonist.

‘For fuck’s sake, just get me a bloody gun,’ I yelled. ‘The bastard’s got my mother.’

Dan swung around. ‘What?’

‘The bastard has got my mother, so fuck procedure, I need a gun and I need it now.’

‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Knock yourself out, I’ll see what back-up I can scrounge. We’re so bloody thin on the ground with the homicides and the AOS call-out to the school.’ He opened the gun locker for me.

I grabbed a Glock pistol and ammo, thought better of it and grabbed two. I looked at the Bushmaster, but thought it too obvious. The Glocks I could hide on my person, but not the rifle. Body armour was pointless. Too big for me by far, and I had a feeling charging in guns blazing wasn’t going to work here. Mum hadn’t rung yet. If we got through this in one piece, I was going to buy that woman a cellphone.

I needed to be clever here, outsmart him, use the element of surprise. It looked like I was in this alone. No, not quite alone. I pulled out my cell and dialled Paul. It went straight to voicemail again.

‘Paul, it’s Sam. We thought the wrong fucking academic. Our killer is Uncle Phil. I’m armed and going up to the house. He’s there with my mum. AOS is tied up and back-up could be slow. Please, if you can get there, get there.’

I hung up the call as I ran for the parking garage.

Come on Paul, check your messages.

66

As usual no bloody place for my car, so I pulled into a neighbour’s driveway. What was the worst they could do? Ring the police? There had been no phone call from Mum and her old Rover was parked twenty metres away from where I sat. I didn’t want to think about what that could mean. Hopefully, just that she was being belligerent and not doing as I asked out of some warped principle. She was quite capable of that level of pig-headedness. The double garage door was closed, so I didn’t know if Phil’s or Aunt Jude’s car was in there. I made the assumption that Jude was still out and Mum was still in with that murdering bastard. There were no audible sirens approaching, no Charge of the Light Brigade.

I was on my own.