As one of the founders of Mithril, as the leader of the now eliminated leaders’ council, and as a son who had been toyed with for decades, Sir Edmund Mallory Jr. had to settle things with his father.
He was four hours west of London at the moment, driving alone, without a single bodyguard, in a rusty old Toyota he’d gotten from a used car lot. He passed through Hereford, near the border with Wales, then spent another hour and a half going north.
He’d been laying low for close to a year, but that time was now coming to an end.
He continued driving through desolate farmland under a cloudy, drizzling sky until, at last, a small farming village came into sight. I haven’t been here in thirty-eight years, Edmund Jr. reflected, yet the village looks just like it did in my boyhood.
Then again, this place never changed. The small group of buildings stood there, just as they had a hundred—no, three hundred years earlier. The old church on the outskirts, too, was just how it had always been.
Edmund Jr. stopped the car before putting on his cheap raincoat. Then, shoving his Browning pistol into one pocket, he marched up to a small brick building adjoining the church. The thick mud along the path made his footsteps feel heavy, and the 9mm pistol in his pocket was as freezing cold as the rain that spattered his cheeks.
He made it to the entrance, took in a breath, then kicked at the thin wooden door. One hit didn’t break it. He slammed the sole of his shoe against it a second time, and then a third. The door came off its hinges and fell in with a crash.
Edmund Jr. stepped inside as he drew his gun, just as he’d trained for so often during his time in the SBS. Holding it in both hands with his elbows slightly bent, he kept the upper half of his body straight and level as he moved. Though he was over fifty, his body moved just as he willed it to. It’s like riding a bicycle, he thought to himself.
He passed through an empty dining room and entered the bedroom, where he found an elderly man sitting in an old rocking chair. An eight-inch LCD television sat on the small table next to him, playing news from the BBC.