Redemption by Will Jordan Page A

forensics teams poked around. The streets around it were heaped with debris, crushed cars and other wreckage.
    ‘From the air, the scale of the destruction is plain to see,’ the reporter’s voice went on. ‘This busy street in downtown Mosul was crowded with civilians when the explosion ripped through it, bringing down a nearby building and turning bricks and mortar into deadly projectiles. It’s unclear at this stage what exactly caused the blast, leaving many to speculate that it may have been a suicide bomber. One thing is certain – another twelve people have been added to the steadily rising death toll in Iraq since the so-called “end of hostilities” …’
    He’d seen enough. Closing the feed down, he spent a few more minutes skimming various other articles of lesser interest, then logged into Hotmail to check his personal emails.
    Aside from the usual bill reminders, Viagra adverts and fake requests for him to confirm his banking details, there was only one email that held any meaning for him.
    It was from his sister Jessica back in the UK. Just a personal correspondence, carrying no threat of rejection or disappointment, and yet somehow it was infinitely harder for him to face up to.
    Jessica was everything he wasn’t – sensible, organised, in a steady job, in control of her life, and happily married with two kids. She was totally at ease with what she did, with who she was and where she was going.
    He envied her, because he knew deep down he’d never have any of the things she did. He wasn’t destined for that kind of life.
    The title told him everything he needed to know:
Have you seen my brother anywhere???
    Bracing himself for the worst, he clicked on the message:
    Hello, big brother!
    How’s things? Not heard from you in ages! Hope everything going well out there and that you’re happy
.
    Chloe keeps asking about her uncle and when he’s coming to visit again. I’m not sure what to tell her, but I was hoping I could say you’ll be back again before Christmas? It’s her birthday next month, by the way. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of that, though!?!? :.)
    Do get in touch again, Ry. I worry when I haven’t heard from you in over a month! And remember there’s always a spare room here for you (hint, hint!)
.
    All my love
,
    Jess
.
    Drake exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Jessica always made the effort with him, always tried to stay in touch, always sent little encouraging messages and took the time to speak to him on the phone. She didn’t know much about what he really did for a living, and she was perceptive enough not to ask too many questions, but neither was she an idiot. She knew enough to be worried for him.
    His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to start on a reply.
    Nothing happened.
    His mind went blank. How on earth could he explain that for the past month he’d been searching for an Agency operative who had vanished while investigating a Serbian arms-smuggling ring? How could he tell her that they had eventually found the man in several pieces, buried in a shallow grave in the woods east of Laznica? He didn’t even want to think about it himself.
    He had a cover story, of course. The Agency had seen to that. To anyone who cared to ask, Drake worked for a security firm, doing threat assessments for big corporations who operated overseas. His job could take him away for weeks or months at a time.
    He didn’t know how much of the story Jessica believed. If he was honest, he didn’t want to know. He hated lying to her.
    He hesitated for a moment longer.
    It was always the same. Her emails were witty, expressive, caring and intimate. His replies, when he could bring himself to write them, were flat, bland and detached. It was as if he was writing to a stranger. He just didn’t know what to say.
    ‘Shit,’ he growled, reaching for the bottle of whisky. He poured a generous glass, held it up for a moment and watched the changing patterns of light