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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

‘Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,’ I said and wrapped my hands around my hot mug.

‘What can I say, my charm doesn’t always work. But really, how are you, anyway?’

‘You mean for someone who had to shoot an elephant this morning? Oh, just fine and dandy.’

He smiled at the sarcasm. ‘I heard about the thing with Dickhead Johns.’

‘Yeah, well, you got his title right. I don’t get where he gets off treating me like that.’ I took a gulp of the too-hot tea, to try and prevent the waterworks from starting. I felt it burn its way down my throat. Made a change from acid burning its way up. ‘It was bloody awful having to kill her. I’ve had to destroy animals before, on the farm. Dad made sure I got to do some of the hard jobs, lessons in life, and all. You have to do the hard jobs as well as the good ones, he always said. Builds character. But it was nothing like this.’

‘Sam, you had, what, a four-tonne elephant charging at you? Of course it was hard. Most of us would have shat ourselves.’

‘I know, but it’s not that. Well, it was a bit. But I’d spent some time with her, you know. When I was at the circus for the interviews I always made a point of going over to give her a pat and a rub down. She seemed so sad, and I felt sorry for her, chained up like that, dragged out like a performing monkey, and yes, I felt sorry for them too. It probably sounds weird, but it was like shooting a friend.’

He reached across and put his hand over mine. ‘For all your bravado, you’re a bit of a softie, aren’t you, Sam?’

‘Don’t I know it?’ I looked down at the table before girding up the strength to ask the next question. ‘Did he die?’

Full points to Paul in that he knew exactly who I was talking about. ‘Yeah, sorry, Sam. A massive heart attack, they think, and hardly surprising under the circumstances.’

My eyes were misting up and I reclaimed my hand, using it to take another slug of my drink in an attempt to fight back the tears. So much for the saying you can’t cry if you’re drinking. What a bloody mess. How many lives had been lost because some git, probably drunk git, had decided to mete out their own form of justice and torch the circus?

My hands started to shake again.

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