BEFORE G LOGGED OUT, he ‘killed’ the account. That was the last time he was going to use it. As he stepped out of the internet café, he noticed a black man casually drinking coffee in a street restaurant. There was something about the man that screamed SAS. It was the rough and tumble looks, and the shemagh wrapped around his neck.
Special Forces had taken to wearing it on operations in the desert, although that alone didn’t suggest he was SF since it’s a traditional Arab scarf. But there was something about his aura.
He could be the Black Rhino.
G took a seat next to the man and ordered a cappuccino. He gave the man a friendly nod.
‘South African?’ he asked.
The man didn’t reply; he merely nodded.
Yeah, like I believe you.
He noticed that TBR was putting the phone next to his ear e
