Rough Justice (Sean Dillon)
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In Kosovo, American Blake Johnson and Major Harry Miller of Britain band together just in time to stop a rogue Russian captain from desecrating a helpless village. Actually, Miller stops him...with a couple of bullets to the head.
In the world of covert operations, death begets death-revenge leads only to revenge. And before the explosive situation is put to rest, there will be plenty of both.
angry with himself for allowing things to get on top of him, realizing now that what had happened in Kosovo had really touched a nerve and he was damned if he was going to allow that to happen. He urged Doubtfire over several of the jumps, then swung the plucky little mare round and, on an impulse, urged her towards the rear fence’s forbiddingly tall five-barred gate. ‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘We can do it,’ and he pushed her into a gallop. His wife cried out, ‘No, Harry, no!’ But Doubtfire
the lie. ‘A bit of an inheritance has come through, Sister. She’ll end her days in your care.’ ‘Are you sure, Sean?’ ‘Just work out the cost, Sister. I’ll make you out a check for a year in advance if you like.’ ‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’ She was obviously thrilled. ‘Have it down on paper for me to see the next time I’m in.’ ‘I will, Sean, I will.’ He left, got in the Triumph and sat there for a moment and thought about Miller. ‘Well, I’m sorry, me auld son, but I’d no choice, you see.
driver was pulled out. There was more work going on at the back of the car. A police motorcyclist in black leathers came across. ‘Come on, folks, you’re blocking the pavement, keep moving.’ ‘Anyone dead?’ a middle-aged woman asked. ‘Don’t know. They’ve pulled out a chauffeur and he’s on his way to hospital. There’s a woman in the back, and getting her out is awkward. If you want to know any more, you’ll have to buy an Evening Standard.’ People started to move, but Fahy lingered, watching
are you talking about?’ And then he saw the distress on the woman police sergeant’s face and she put a hand on his arm. ‘Please sit down, sir, I really think it would be best.’ And somehow he knew, the police always sent a man and a woman when it was the worst of bad news. He stepped into the sitting room and sat on a chair very carefully and she took his phone and said, ‘Sergeant Bell here, sir, we’re just breaking the bad news to Major Miller now. Yes, I’ll tell him that.’ She put the
old Charlie Ferguson has a DSO and the Prime Minister’s full confidence, just like your brother. They help keep people out of harm’s way in a world gone mad. They are soldiers who take care of those things ordinary folk can’t.’ ‘And you?’ she demanded. ‘The pride of the IRA?’ ‘Peace in Ireland, Monica, that’s what we’ve got now.’ He reached to a passing waiter’s tray, took two fresh glasses and offered her one. ‘I’m simply along for the ride.’ ‘I just bet you are.’ She sipped her champagne,