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Back Time for the Dead Save as PDF
Chapters (94)
  1. Cover
  2. Time for the Dead
  3. Dedication page
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph page
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. Epilogue
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. By Lin Anderson

Eventually, the time came for Rhona to tell Sean what he deserved to know. As she began in a halting fashion, Sean intervened.

‘You don’t have to explain anything to me.’

‘But I do.’ Rhona stopped there, unsure exactly how to do that. ‘When I was in the tunnel, I made a promise . . .’ She hesitated. ‘To myself. No, to our unborn child.’

Sean waited, his face growing pale.

‘I promised that she, or he, would live. That we would escape together.’ She stumbled then as that moment in the tunnel came sweeping back to drown her again.

Her face must have shown her anguish, because Sean reached out and took her hand.

‘I’m truly sorry I failed.’

The enormity of her decision to keep the child, and its tragic outcome, hung in the air between them. Rhona wondered if it would ever go away.

‘Bad things happen sometimes,’ Sean said, cradling her hand in both of his.

And nothing more needed to be said.

Rhona rose and went to the window. Below, the garden of the convent was bathed in light and the Virgin Mary gazed out over the glistening, frosted grass.

She was home.

Epilogue

There is a photograph of fully kitted-out soldiers, on patrol, wearing sunglasses, guns at the ready. They are walking through a field of flowering poppies.

This photograph, with its juxtaposition of flowers and guns, symbolizes more than anything else the failure of the war in Afghanistan.

The illicit harvest of the pretty Afghan poppy produces over 90 per cent of the world’s heroin. Heroin that is responsible for multiple deaths around the world.

And into this theatre of war, soldiers are sent. What do we expect them to achieve? This is not a war between ideologies. It is not about women and children being allowed an education. It was only ever about resources, and about the global wealth of heroin. Something the West craves in all its forms.

Wars require money, a great deal of money, and the Taliban always knew where it could make the money it sought for the struggle. In the West, which craved its most prodigious product.

Such a war can have no end.

Acknowledgements

My thanks to all the kind people who made this book possible.

Firstly, Blaze’s Dad, Steve Millar, who introduced me to Blaze and Laoch and A.C.E Target Sports, and who allowed me to make Blaze my forensic assistant for a time. When asked if I might borrow Blaze for a weekend, Steve said, ‘Only if I can borrow Chrissy.’ I’ve tried my best to make his wish come true. Without Steve’s knowledge of walking and climbing on Skye, this story couldn’t have happened: www.blaze-walks.com

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Matt Harrison at A.C.E Target Sports for my visit in February 2018, when this story was conceived. (I threw an axe as successfully as Rhona due to his excellent instructions!) I’d greatly recommend a visit: www.ace-skye.com