Blind pursuit, p.28
Blind Pursuit, page 28
‘Yeah,’ Callum said, looking across the room to his brother, deep in conversation with their dad. Aaron glanced over and raised his beer bottle in salute. Callum did the same. Deena, standing next to her husband, took notice and gave a frostier glare.
She’d likely never forgive Callum now, would never welcome him with open arms, but she was here, and so was Aaron and so were the kids. It meant a lot to Callum. It was only sad that tragedy had brought the siblings closer together.
‘Make the most of it,’ his mum said. ‘Your nephews will grow up so quickly. And…’
‘And?’
‘You never know… one day… You’d make a great father, honey.’
His mum squeezed his arm, and he was sure her eyes started to well, but she turned away from him and moved off, and he was actually kind of glad she did as it took him several seconds to regain his emotions and battle against his own tears.
His phone pinged.
A message. Unknown number.
Outside. Now.
He looked around the room. No one was really paying him any attention, so he moved for the front door, all manner of ominous thoughts whirring.
No, if this was something bad, a threat, there was no need to pre-empt it with a message like that. If anyone wanted him dead, they’d just do it. Probably would have done so by now.
And he had a decent idea who the message was from anyway.
He opened the door and spotted the car, the driver’s window wound down, a face poking out, beckoning him over.
Jenn Hinch.
He checked over his shoulder as he headed to her car, seeing if anyone was watching him from the house.
Didn’t seem to be.
He sat down in the passenger seat.
‘This is out of the blue,’ Callum said.
‘I just wanted to check on you. It’s been a while. But I saw all the cars and thought maybe it best not to go to the door.’
Probably true. How the hell would he explain who Hinch was to his friends and family?
Of course, his brother was more aware of the truth than most, and his parents knew some things about what had led their son to getting shot twice and beaten to a pulp in Portugal. As much as the general public knew, at least. He’d never had a formal, heartfelt apology from any news organisation for having spread the headlines about him being wanted for murder, but they had at least clarified after the event that Callum was a victim in the shootouts both in Bucharest and Portugal. And relayed a concocted story about how he’d travelled through Europe seeking answers over the death of his wife, a government liaison, only to come under attack from a criminal organisation helmed by Yuri Kozak, a gangster who’d been wanted by the UK authorities for years. A quite sensationalist story, but one that had little meat to it really, and would have been easy to pick apart had anyone bothered to try. Except no one had, and the story had disappeared from public discourse within days. The public, his parents would never know anything more. He’d signed a very clear legal agreement to that effect, breach of which would see him behind bars. Such a friendly way to thank him for what he’d done for his country.
Although the £500,000 compensation he’d finally received had been a bit nicer. A life-changing amount, even if not really enough to mean he never had to work again. Although he wanted to work right now, because what else was he supposed to do?
But back to the point. It had been a while since he’d last seen Hinch. They’d not spoken at all since his release from hospital. She’d visited him a few times during those weeks, as though she still felt some responsibility for what had happened to him, and for what would happen to him after.
‘You have some news for me?’ he asked, even though he knew that even if she did, it’d likely be a redacted version.
‘You’ve probably been hearing a lot of things, but maybe it’s not all what you expected.’
A strange statement, but he felt he knew what she meant. Over the last few months there’d certainly been no official news about how a senior MI6 official – codename Ithaca – had been selling intel to a foreign group from the Middle East with the intention of, among other things, destabilising international relations, and which had led to multiple deaths. Nor had there been any charges made against any surviving co-conspirators, either within or outside of the intelligence services. Although Callum felt sure that MI6 would have dealt with those people one way or another. Wouldn’t they?
‘So?’ Callum prompted.
‘Omar Yousefi is dead,’ she said.
The disgraced former MP. Callum actually knew little of the detail about how Yousefi fitted into the whole thing, other than he was one of the group’s key figures of influence within the UK. He’d been kicked out of the government after evidence of tax evasion had come to light and Callum had assumed that was his penance.
Apparently not.
‘A motorcycle accident,’ she added.
Callum raised an eyebrow.
‘A little bit odd,’ she said, ‘as his family said he’d never ridden a bike before.’
‘Did you do it?’ Callum asked.
‘No,’ Hinch said. ‘But the manner, the official line, does seem to be a direct fuck you, don’t you think?’
‘From who? To who?’
‘From the people within MI6, MI5, who know what happened. The good guys.’
Callum said nothing.
‘From what I understand, Yousefi was the last of the key players still alive. Everyone else Lea had worked to expose… is dead.’
Was that supposed to bring him comfort?
‘No more bad guys,’ he said.
‘No, there are always bad guys. But I hoped this would bring some closure. And… I’m sorry I lied to you.’
‘More than once.’
‘But I honestly didn’t do it to cause you harm.’
‘No. It’s just a way of life for you. For all the people you work with.’
‘I swear I only wanted to help find what had happened to Lea.’
Did he believe her? He wanted to.
‘Do you know what I think about the most?’ Callum asked.
‘What?’
‘What was it all even for? Goldman’s lies and stealing. The order to have Lea ambushed and killed in Bucharest because she’d found the truth. Kozak, Yousefi, Denis, White losing their lives, among others. So much chaos and death and pain and… what is it all even for? Because… for anyone not involved, their lives just carried on as normal, regardless, oblivious, before and after it all.’
She held his eye for a moment, and he really wished he could read her mind because it seemed like something he’d said had struck a chord.
Was she ashamed?
‘The very fact that most people get to live their lives oblivious to the threats that exist? Is because of people like Lea.’
‘People like you?’
She shrugged.
‘Lea was a better person than I’ll ever be,’ Hinch said. ‘The world needs more people like that. Forever selfless. Only concerned about doing what they think is right for the greater good.’
Callum sighed but didn’t respond. He certainly wanted to believe Lea was that person. But was it true? He really didn’t know, because he still knew so little about her life with MI6, what she’d seen and done. He only knew her as the woman she pretended to be with him. A woman he’d fallen in love with, who he’d never not be in love with, even though he now knew about the lies.
He also felt he understood some of the torment it must have caused her. He saw it now, as he looked back at the key moments they’d spent together.
If only he’d pieced it all together sooner… Could he have saved her?
‘Anyway,’ Hinch said. ‘I’m glad you’re doing OK.’
‘I’m not sure I said I was OK, but… thanks.’
‘And if you’re ever in trouble, if this thing comes back to bite you again somehow… you have my number. Call me.’
Callum nodded. ‘Take care.’
He got out the car and waited by the side of the road, watching her head off down the street and then out of sight.
He turned back to the house, mind churning, until he spotted his mum and Deena in the living room window, side by side, looking at him. His mum smiled. Deena didn’t.
Callum took a deep breath, then headed for the door.
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Blind Pursuit
First published in Great Britain in 2026 by Boldwood Books Ltd.
Copyright © Rob Sinclair, 2026
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Rob Sinclair, Blind Pursuit
