03-Savage Moon by Chris Simms Read Free Book Online Page B

yours? A few weeks ago, he was our big baby. 'OK, I'll pop out with him now if that's all right.'
    'Yeah.' Alice's eyes didn't go anywhere near the animal.
    Jon looked out the window. The day was fading fast. It didn't seem like yesterday when it was light until ten o'clock at night.
    'What's Dad up to?' he asked, loosening his tie.
    Mary gave a theatrical scowl. 'There was some rugby match on the box. Who are they, Salford Red Socks or something?' Jon grinned. He was certain his mum purposely got the name of the rugby club wrong – after all, her husband had played for them in the days before everything turned professional.
    It amused him how the sport was a source of constant ribbing between him and his father. His dad had played Rugby League, a version of the game made popular by the men who'd laboured in the region's mines, mills and docks.
    But Jon had won a place at the local grammar school and ended up playing the game's other code – Rugby Union. More popular down south, the version was associated with England's posh schools. His dad would never let him forget it, continually making jokes about the southern softies who only played Union because they couldn't take the knocks that went with League. Jon often suspected the reasons why he played with such determined ferocity on the rugby pitch was to disprove his father's jibes. It took until his mid-twenties before he realised that had probably been his dad's plan all along.
    He got changed into his running gear and popped his head back into the front room. 'Mum, you staying for some food?'
    'No, your father will be expecting his. I'll get off in a minute.'
    'Let him cook his own.'
    She gave him a look. 'Your father couldn't boil a bloody egg.' He could if you ever let him in your kitchen, Jon thought, giving her a kiss goodbye.
    A few minutes later he reached the playing fields of Heaton school where he let the dog off the lead, watching as he raced off into the dusk, following the scent of something. Probably rabbits that had colonised the edge of the golf course.
    Jon stuck to the perimeter of the playing fields, using the light from the streetlamps that had just flickered into life. As he made his way round he was aware of the occasional ragged form flittering in the air above his head. Bats. They swooped and darted in pursuit of the flying insects attracted by the streetlights' glow.
    When Jon reached the edge of the golf course Punch reappeared out of the gloom ahead, tongue hanging from his mouth. They completed their normal run and were home half an hour later.
    After he'd showered and eaten, Jon sat next to Alice on the sofa. The telly was on low but both of them seemed to spend more time gazing at Holly as she lay on the brightly coloured floor mat. Jon found it amazing how such a tiny thing could exert such a powerful pull on their eyes. Gravity itself had shifted and the centre of the universe was now in the middle of their front room.
    'I can't believe what's happening over there.'
    Jon looked at his wife, realising that something on the telly had attracted her attention. He glanced at the screen where a government minister of some description was denouncing the barbaric acts being committed by terrorists in Iraq.
    'They're decapitating hostages. Why?'
    Jon tipped his head back against the sofa and sighed. How to explain the motivation behind an act like that?
    'What sort of people are they?'
    He rubbed at his temples, not wanting to get into it. 'I'm not making excuses, but not every Iraqi believes they're being liberated, Alice. Those terrorists are freedom fighters in many Iraqis' minds. We've invaded their country don't forget.'
    Alice shifted to look at him. 'That's what I don't understand. They said the Iraqis would welcome our troops by throwing flowers into the path of their tanks. They said we'd win their hearts and minds through our civilised approach. What's civilised about those shock and awe tactics? Firing thousands of missiles into a crowded