First Horseman, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

like a cautionary word and that seemed sensible. If he was the umpire he’d tell Pierre to slow down – but wasn’t bowling like that the point of the game?
    Pierre looked over at Jim, gestured at his eye and then at him, smiling happily. Pierre meant him to watch closely. Jim nodded. Pierre turned away, rubbing the ball hard on his whites as he returned to his mark. He stood still for a moment, steeling himself for the sprint. He set off and by the time he reached the wicket he was running flat out.
    Jim didn’t see the ball fly, just heard a thud at the batsman’s end and saw a stump fly backwards out of the ground.
    Pierre took off vertically, spinning around with his arms in the air. There was a chorus of shouts from his team mates.
    This was going to be a short game, thought Jim.

    Pierre swung into the passenger seat. ‘Nice car, Jim,’ he said. ‘All my friends are well jealous of me.’
    Jim smiled and started the Bugatti Veyron. ‘It was Stafford’s idea,’ he said. ‘He says I should have this kind of car. It’s suitable for a man of my standing, so he reckons.’
    Pierre laughed.
    Jim reversed out between the two parental Range Rovers. ‘You played bloody well,’ he said, checking to make sure he wasn’t going to hit anything as he pulled away.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Pierre. ‘I love cricket – it’s like friendly fighting.’
    ‘I’m not sure the other team would agree about the friendly bit,’ he said, nursing the car forwards.
    ‘Only bruises,’ said Pierre, ‘no blood.’ He waved out of the window at a friend.
    Jim glanced at the historic school building, then at the uniformed children watching him pass. He scratched his head, ruffling his short black hair. It was a world he had no understanding of. He slowed to a crawl as he took a tight turn.
    ‘How’s Jane?’ asked Pierre, swivelling in his bucket seat and lowering the window. He waved again, then poked his head out and shouted to another boy, laughing.
    Jim didn’t reply.
    Pierre pulled his head in. ‘What did you say?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Jim. ‘I didn’t say nothing.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Pierre. ‘That’s not good.’ He closed the window and screwed himself into the seat. ‘Does this car go fast?’
    ‘Like shit off a shiny shovel.’
    ‘You going to show me?’
    ‘Probably not,’ said Jim. ‘I’ve not really got the hang of it yet.’ He grinned. ‘But if we can get a stretch of clear, straight road, I might give it a go.’
    ‘Wicked!’
    Jim was finally out of the obstacle course of the school precinct, pleased to be on a proper road. He pushed the accelerator a little and the car surged away. He eased off and settled at the speed limit. ‘Nought to a driving ban in three and a half seconds,’ he said, laughing.
    ‘OK!’ said Pierre. ‘Go ahead!’
    ‘Maybe later,’ said Jim. ‘There’s plenty of time.’
    ‘So how about you come back to the DRC with me today?’
    ‘No can do,’ said Jim. ‘Got to see a man about some mosquitoes.’
    ‘Mosquitoes?’ said Pierre. ‘You can see plenty back home.’
    ‘That’s right,’ said Jim. ‘But this is different. There’s a professor in Cambridge who’s trying to find a way of stopping mosquitoes spreading malaria. I’m thinking of funding him.’
    ‘You giving your money away again, Uncle?’
    ‘Uncle?’
    ‘Kind Uncle, gives his money away to all the girls.’ Pierre was laughing again.
    ‘It was your idea, remember?’ said Jim.
    ‘No,’ said Pierre.
    ‘You told me mosquitoes were to blame for so many deaths.’
    ‘I might have.’
    ‘It set me thinking and you’re right. The fucking mozzies are, like, the worst thing on earth. Little flying bastards spreading death.’
    ‘But all this money you keep giving away, you’ll run out of it.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ said Jim. ‘Anyway, if I do, I’ll make some more.’
    ‘Good plan. How’s the professor going to kill the mosquitoes?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Jim. ‘I’ll find