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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

The images froze my blood. The aerial view was jumpy and the noise of the helicopter filled the room. Under the alien flicker of orange street lamps and shuddering white spotlight a lone, pathetically small figure stood its ground under the relentless approach of the lumbering beast. Pulsating sound from inside my head intermingled with the thrumming of the helicopter blades. A furious heat rushed up my body. My eyes saw the figure – the ant – pull the shotgun up to sight, the elephant getting closer, closer, and when the behemoth seemed impossibly close, bang. The shot caused my head to jerk back, my breath suck in and my world stand still. I could not tear my eyes away from the scene, as I knew the next move in this unlikely drama. Muffled voices caught at the edge of my hearing, but my mind was transfixed by the screen. The creature collapsed, its momentum carrying it forward to within metres of the figure. Fast forward, the figure standing behind the beast, shotgun muzzle to the head. Another shot, another jolt. Saliva flooded into my mouth. I slapped my hand over it to hold it in and bolted for the toilet.

37

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ Maggie asked as we wandered into the Sanctum. The Octagon in Dunedin was like Grand Bar Central with way too many drinking establishments to choose from. Not a place for the indecisive. My vote had been for one that didn’t have any televisions, so we’d had to case out and leave two before settling in here. Sure, the massive screens had been devoted to rugby matches, but I wasn’t going to chance someone flipping channels to check out the news.

‘Ask me that question again when I’ve got a big glass of red in my hand,’ I said. ‘Or even better, only half a glass of red left in my hand.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ she said, with a bow. ‘You find a seat, I’ll get the drinks.’

It was a bit chilly to sit at one of the outdoor tables, even if they did provide cuddly rugs, and besides, that was where the smokers were quarantined to and I didn’t feel like breathing in any of their second-hand crap. I wandered down the back and found a booth. It was perfect – comfortable, cocoon-like and with a sense of seclusion. A good hidey-hole. Dunedin hadn’t been my home long enough for me to keep bumping into people I knew. In fact, after growing up in small towns, and then being sole-charge police presence in Mataura, I was glad of the anonymity Dunedin offered. In Mataura, people could probably tell you what colour underwear you were wearing from what they’d seen hanging on your clothes line. Here, no one knew my business and I liked it that way.