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11

Grateful to get away from any more conversation, Cooper headed to the office, musing and bitching and ruminating on how, in hindsight, life inside the Eritrean prison seemed so much less stressful than coming back home. He stopped short of the doorway.

‘Well, I’ll be damned. If it ain’t Thomas J. Cooper!’ Austin Rosedale Young sat back in the brown leather chair, his feet clad in a pair of garish blue cowboy boots to match his sky blue suit and shirt and tie. His strong Texan accent and over-tanned skin, along with his visibly dyed black hair, gave out an inaccurate, foppish impression. The truth, though, was that Austin Rosedale Young was at one time America’s top sniper. A natural born killer. A man who’d earned almost mythical status amongst his fellow SEALS.

Cooper spoke. Just. Not really wanting to hear the answer from his one-time nemesis. Not really wanting to hear anything from the man at all. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Young, or Rosedale as he liked to be called, opened his arms in an exuberant manner. Chewed on the oversized, unlit cigar as he delighted in telling him exactly that.

‘I thought they would’ve told you, Thomas. I work here now. Retirement just doesn’t suit me.’

Cooper said nothing. He’d known Rosedale for a long time. Too long. Their paths had met on several occasions, working together several years ago.

When Rosedale had left the Navy, he’d gone to work in the Central Intelligence Agency, employed in their Clandestine Service. It was the front-line source of clandestine information on critical international developments, working on everything from terrorism, weapons of mass destruction, to military and political issues which challenged the deepest resources of personal intelligence, self-reliance and responsibility. And Austin Rosedale Young had been what they called the perfect candidate.

Cooper blew out his cheeks and moved over to the far side of the office. Threw his empty juice carton with an overhead shot in the bin. Hole in one. Turned to look at Rosedale. And even though the guy’s elaborate and crazy screwball ways covered the fact he was a highly intelligent, highly skilled, ruthless individual, Cooper had no intention of working with him again. Ever. He also had no intention of letting him sit at his desk. ‘That’s my desk, Rosedale… Move.’

‘Not any more it isn’t, sugar.’

Cooper moved nearer. Much nearer. So near he could feel the heat rising from Rosedale’s skin and smell the mix of cigar and toothpaste and a cologne which should’ve been left on the shelf. ‘I repeat, that’s my desk.’

Rosedale picked up the brass name plate from the desk. He read it out, his Texan drawl flavoring the mockery. ‘Thomas J. Cooper… Now tell me, Thomas, I’ve forgotten, what does the J stand for?’

‘Put that the hell down… Now.’

Rosedale swept his feet off the desk and leant forward, his face lighting up. ‘Hell no, Thomas, I’m sensing something here… Tell me what the J stands for.’

The scorn for the man, Cooper felt it right to the heart of him. ‘You’re not sensing anything Rosedale, you’re just being a jackass. So I’ll tell you again. Leave it.’

‘And what if I don’t, Thomas J? What exactly are you going to do about it?’

‘You sound like a kid, Rosedale. Why don’t you just leave it like he asked you to?’

Maddie, who’d just come in to the office, walked up to Rosedale, snatching the brass name plate out of his hands.

Rosedale grinned. ‘Now that ain’t a nice thing to do, Miss Maddison.’

Maddie looked at him with disdain. ‘Grow up.’

Winking at her, Rosedale sprang his six foot five body from the chair, standing tall on another two inches of cowboy boot. He smiled down at Cooper who didn’t bother meeting his stare.

‘I’m one of the few men you gotta look up to hey, Thomas?’

‘Go to hell.’

‘Not until you tell me what the J is for.’

‘Drop it Rosedale. Just let it go.’

‘Oh, you mean like you let things go? There’s a funny thing. You of all people telling me to let something go.’

Cooper breathed deeply. Stared down at the floor. Watched the tiny spider disappear under the door. Let the seconds tick by. Then eventually he lifted his head. Locked eyes with Rosedale and said,

‘Don’t cross that line with me, Rosedale.’

‘You know in Texas they’ve got a saying, big hat and no cattle. And that’s exactly what I think you are, Thomas, all talk and no action.’

Rosedale poked Cooper. Jabbed his finger right into his chest. Mistake. Big one.

‘You’ve just crossed the line.’

With rapid speed, channelling his anger from Granger and Maddie, Cooper threw a double punch. Caught Rosedale tight on his mouth and followed it through with a body shot to the ribs. He quickly ducked, curving his body out of the way to avoid Rosedale’s counter attack, before he powered a left scissor punch right to his jaw.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ Granger dragged Cooper off Rosedale, who grinned, licking the blood from his mouth as he spoke.

‘Can’t remember the last time a man split my lip. I have to give it to you, Thomas, you still have it. Shame for everyone, you didn’t have it when it mattered.’

It was one helluva roar from Granger. ‘Shut it Rosedale…! I want you both in my office. Now!

The Killing Grounds: an explosive and gripping thriller for fans of James Patterson

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