Thunder by Anthony Bellaleigh Page B

river. You can walk to the docks from there. We’re not certain exactly which dock the fishing boat will moor at, but they’re all in reasonably close proximity to each other.” Deuce glanced across at him, “Ace will stream the target’s coordinates to your cell in real time.”
    “Understood.” Jack reached into the back of the car, pulled forward the second heavy jumper and started to pull it over his head. It looked like the sort of top a well-intentioned but colourblind aunt might have knitted for him, and he was pretty certain that the pattern looked vaguely like it had the word ‘COCK’ emblazoned in capitals across the front of it. Deuce had probably taken great pleasure from selecting it for him.
    He flicked his cellphone over and tapped the icon for its tracking application. “It’s working,” he reported after checking the map and the little green triangle which marked Ebrahimi’s position. His target was currently offshore.
    “Remember: this is vital, Tin. He’s the only one with an active cellphone now. If we lose this guy then the mission’s as good as over. Do what you have to, but remember that you don’t exist here. There is no back up. If we go dark on you then...”
    “I know the score,” Jack said bluntly. “I’m here for my bro’s. I’m not going to let them, or you, down.”
    Deuce pulled the car to the side of the road. “See that you don’t,” he said.
    ~~~~~
     
    Barfold
     
    Someone’s banging on my front door. I’ve been ignoring the bell, which works perfectly by-the-way, but it doesn’t seem to be having the desired effect. Whoever it is, they’re being very persistent.
    And irritating.
    Can’t they tell that I’m busy?
    Can’t they tell that I’m tidying Lizzie’s room, straightening her soft toys and changing the bedding in her cot?
    I have to get it ready for later.
    I have to get it ready for bedtime.
    It’s part of my ‘schedule’...
    Reluctantly, I pull myself to my feet and move through the evening half-light, out of Lizzie’s room and across to the front of the house where I can look down from behind our bedroom curtains. I’ll turn some lights on – in a while.
    There are a couple of what look like Travellers, gypsies by another name, standing on our short driveway. A man and a woman, who appear to be whispering to each other and shaking their heads. Then they look toward my living room.
    No! There are three of them! Another one was hidden, out of sight, somewhere in my front garden, beneath me, down by my front room window...
    What are they up to?
    How dare they peek through my windows?
    The Peeping Tom is nodding to the other couple and making thumbs-up signs. Then the woman hacks up a load of phlegm and spits it onto my pathway.
    Bitch.
    The three of them turn and wander off, back up the street.
    We chose our little house because it’s at the end of one of the side roads on the estate. It’s out of the way. It doesn’t get many people walking past it...
    I watch carefully until the Travellers are out of sight.
    ~~~~~
     
    Kołobrzeg
     
    Jack shivered as he stood in the shadows of one of the warehouses which surrounded the docks. Several of the structures were still brightly lit as various boats of different sizes were loaded, or unloaded, industriously. The building that Jack huddled beneath was dark.
    The big coat, two sweaters, woollen gloves and hat that Deuce had given him were all helping, but it still felt cold.
    He swapped the smartphone between hands so he could thrust the cold one into his coat pocket. Through his glove, his frozen fingers touched the grip of the old, beaten up, SIG Sauer P220 pistol stowed in there. Deuce said the gun was fully functional, but the dented, black nine-millimetre had seen better days. The SIG wasn’t dissimilar to a Browning, and he’d fired several in the ranges, but he still hoped he wouldn’t have to use it; not least because Deuce had only issued it with nine rounds of ammunition.
    “I’m not