Free Limit of Exploitation by Rod Bowden

Miroslav’s world would be a side benefit he would take pleasure in later. Returning to the EL unit under the cover of darkness would be his next task, hopefully with Santa’s little helpers in support.
    By the time John returned to Paula’s place he was wet from the rain and gripping a lukewarm Starbucks. He stops abruptly on entering the living room as two new faces are there to greet him.
    Phil Bridge and Jack Lyndhurst stare impassively from armchairs while Paula sits on the sofa, legs tucked up underneath her, the way only women do. John drops his daysack on the carpet and grunts.
    â€œFuck me, its Bodie and Doyle.”
    The seated pair smirk and Phil breaks the silence “Happy to see you too, where ya been?”
    â€œSightseeing. You been on a sunbed Phil?”
    â€œFuck off Logan.”
    Jack gets to his feet and crosses the room; he eyes John with his hawk eyes and cocks his baldhead to one side.
    â€œSee anything nice then? Like some drug dealing? Serbs Gangsters? Kidnap victims? Some organised crime maybe? Never was one for the quite life were you John.”
    â€œYou still being my dad Jack?”
    They’re joined by Phil. “Your sisters been filling us in mate, we’ve seen the imagery from your recce too. This could be quite an event, you sure your ready for it?”
    â€œReady for anything, remember?”
    Phil shakes his head. “Wanker.”
    The three men grin at the reciting of their regimental motto. John flops into an armchair as Paula takes it all in. Phil perches on the sideboard and folds his arms. The banter ends and the serious stuff starts.
    â€œNo idea where they’re holding your niece yet then?”
    â€œNo ’fraid not. It’s gonna take more time on the ground and the clocks ticking. That’s why I called in the Cavalry.”
    â€œWell it took us two days to get here so we’re both on board, you know that mate, just don’t let Jack’s wife know he’s here.”
    John half smiles his gratitude and pauses. “I also asked someone else to help too.”
    Jack raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Who?”
    Another pause, this won’t go down well. “Sam Mayfield.”
    Jacks eyes widen and he exchanges looks with Phil. “Your kidding right? Samantha fucking Mayfield? I’m surprised she’s even still alive.”
    Paula jumps in. “whose Samantha Mayfield?”
    â€œA head case we can well do without, you sure this is a good idea John?”
    â€œYou know her background Phil, she has the experience, she has the connections and she’ll be useful. She can access…”
    Phil stares at his Timberlands shaking his head. “John mate, she’s a loose cannon, a fucking psycho. I can’t believe the Army even kept her in.”
    Paula’s eyes are all questions, they dart around the group. “What are you guys on about? Who is this person?” The question was aimed squarely at her brother.
    â€œSam was married to our old boss when we were all together in Ireland, a young platoon commander from way back. Tony Mayfield was his name. He was killed by an IED blast in Belfast. Sam didn’t take it well.”
    Paula is horrified. “Didn’t take it well? Fuck me John; is there a good way to take something like that?”
    Phil just shrugged. “Shit happens love.”
    Jack cuts in. “What your brother is trying to say is, it sent her fucking bat shit, pushed her over the edge. You see, what nobody knew at the time was, Sam was working covertly for a specialist army unit in Belfast. This unit’s job was to collect intelligence on an IRA cell thought to be operating in our area. That same cell later murdered Tony in an RCIED attack.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œA remote controlled improvised explosive device Paula. In other words, a radio controlled bomb.”
    â€œJesus Christ.”
    â€œJesus Christ is right. Took quite a toll on her and