when serving with some sneaky-beaky outfit. He’d never spoken much about it, but from the photos that had graced his walls, it was clear that he’d taken his open-topped jeep into a whole lot of remote, battle-torn terrain.
Jaeger often wished he’d asked more about it when Grandpa Ted was still alive; about what exactly he’d got up to during the war. And after the last few hours, Jaeger found himself regretting not having done so many times over.
He climbed aboard the Triumph, eyeing Raff’s empty mug. ‘Leave that on the boat, will you.’
‘Yep.’ Raff hesitated, then reached out a massive paw, placing it on the bike’s handlebars. ‘Mate, I saw that look in your eyes when you clocked Smithy’s photo. Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re planning – be careful.’
Jaeger stared at Raff for a long moment. But even as he did, his gaze seemed turned inwards. ‘I’m always careful.’
Raff tightened his hold on the bars. ‘You know what – at some point you’ve got to start trusting someone. None of us knows what you went through. We wouldn’t even pretend to. But we are your mates. Your brothers. Don’t ever forget that.’
‘I know.’ Jaeger paused. ‘Forty-eight hours. I’ll be back with an answer.’
Then he blipped the throttle, accelerated across the darkened gravel and was gone.
9
Jaeger made only the one stop on the drive west – at a Carphone Warehouse to pick up a pay-as-you-go smartphone. He’d kept the Explorer at a steady 80 mph on the M3, but it was when he hit the A303 turn-off and the smaller Wiltshire roads that he finally began to immerse himself in the ride.
During the long motorway slog his mind had drifted. Andy Smith. Friends like that didn’t come easy. Jaeger could count those he had – Raff included – on the fingers of the one hand. And now there was one fewer, and Jaeger was damned if he wasn’t going to find out exactly how and why Smithy had died.
Those Brazilian anti-narcotics training missions had been some of the last on which they had served together. Jaeger had left the military shortly thereafter, to found Enduro Adventures. Smithy had stayed in. He’d argued that he had a wife and three young kids to provide for, and he couldn’t risk losing his regular military pay.
It was on their third Brazilian training mission that events had taken an unexpected turn. In theory, Jaeger and his men were there purely to train the Brazilian special forces – the Brigada de Operacoes Especiais; the Brazilian Special Operations Brigade (B-SOB). But over time, bonds had been forged, and they’d come to revile the drugs traffickers – the narco gangs – almost as much as the B-SOB boys did.
When one of Captain Evandro’s B-SOB teams had gone missing, Jaeger and his men had taken matters into their own hands. It had become the longest foot patrol in Brazilian special-forces history. Jaeger had led it, with an equal number of B-SOB operators accompanying. They’d located the narco gang’s deep jungle hideout, studied it for several days, then launched a blistering assault.
In the ensuing bloodbath, the bad guys had been wiped out. Eight of Captain Evandro’s twelve men had been rescued alive – which in the circumstances was a result. But in the process, Jaeger himself had come close to losing his life, and it was Andy Smith’s bravery and selfless actions that had saved him.
And like Captain Evandro, Jaeger was not one to forget.
He eased the Explorer down the exit road signposted to Fonthill Bishop. He hit the outskirts of the picture-postcard village of Tisbury and flicked his eyes right, towards a house set a little back from the road. Its windows were lit up a faint yellow – mournful eyes blinking on to a fearful outside world.
The Millside: Jaeger had recognised the address the moment Raff had handed it to him.
Thatched, mossy, cottagey, creepers climbing hither and thither, with its own stream and a decent half-acre of land – Smithy
Jaeger often wished he’d asked more about it when Grandpa Ted was still alive; about what exactly he’d got up to during the war. And after the last few hours, Jaeger found himself regretting not having done so many times over.
He climbed aboard the Triumph, eyeing Raff’s empty mug. ‘Leave that on the boat, will you.’
‘Yep.’ Raff hesitated, then reached out a massive paw, placing it on the bike’s handlebars. ‘Mate, I saw that look in your eyes when you clocked Smithy’s photo. Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re planning – be careful.’
Jaeger stared at Raff for a long moment. But even as he did, his gaze seemed turned inwards. ‘I’m always careful.’
Raff tightened his hold on the bars. ‘You know what – at some point you’ve got to start trusting someone. None of us knows what you went through. We wouldn’t even pretend to. But we are your mates. Your brothers. Don’t ever forget that.’
‘I know.’ Jaeger paused. ‘Forty-eight hours. I’ll be back with an answer.’
Then he blipped the throttle, accelerated across the darkened gravel and was gone.
9
Jaeger made only the one stop on the drive west – at a Carphone Warehouse to pick up a pay-as-you-go smartphone. He’d kept the Explorer at a steady 80 mph on the M3, but it was when he hit the A303 turn-off and the smaller Wiltshire roads that he finally began to immerse himself in the ride.
During the long motorway slog his mind had drifted. Andy Smith. Friends like that didn’t come easy. Jaeger could count those he had – Raff included – on the fingers of the one hand. And now there was one fewer, and Jaeger was damned if he wasn’t going to find out exactly how and why Smithy had died.
Those Brazilian anti-narcotics training missions had been some of the last on which they had served together. Jaeger had left the military shortly thereafter, to found Enduro Adventures. Smithy had stayed in. He’d argued that he had a wife and three young kids to provide for, and he couldn’t risk losing his regular military pay.
It was on their third Brazilian training mission that events had taken an unexpected turn. In theory, Jaeger and his men were there purely to train the Brazilian special forces – the Brigada de Operacoes Especiais; the Brazilian Special Operations Brigade (B-SOB). But over time, bonds had been forged, and they’d come to revile the drugs traffickers – the narco gangs – almost as much as the B-SOB boys did.
When one of Captain Evandro’s B-SOB teams had gone missing, Jaeger and his men had taken matters into their own hands. It had become the longest foot patrol in Brazilian special-forces history. Jaeger had led it, with an equal number of B-SOB operators accompanying. They’d located the narco gang’s deep jungle hideout, studied it for several days, then launched a blistering assault.
In the ensuing bloodbath, the bad guys had been wiped out. Eight of Captain Evandro’s twelve men had been rescued alive – which in the circumstances was a result. But in the process, Jaeger himself had come close to losing his life, and it was Andy Smith’s bravery and selfless actions that had saved him.
And like Captain Evandro, Jaeger was not one to forget.
He eased the Explorer down the exit road signposted to Fonthill Bishop. He hit the outskirts of the picture-postcard village of Tisbury and flicked his eyes right, towards a house set a little back from the road. Its windows were lit up a faint yellow – mournful eyes blinking on to a fearful outside world.
The Millside: Jaeger had recognised the address the moment Raff had handed it to him.
Thatched, mossy, cottagey, creepers climbing hither and thither, with its own stream and a decent half-acre of land – Smithy
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