The Cleaner (John Milton)
Mark Dawson
Language: English
Pages: 312
ISBN: 1492354252
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Meet John Milton He considers himself an artisan. A craftsman. His trade is murder. Milton is the man the government sends after you when everything else has failed. Ruthless. Brilliant. Anonymous. Lethal. You wouldn't pick him out of a crowd but you wouldn't want to be on his list. But now, after ten years, he's had enough - there's blood on his hands and he wants out. Trouble is, this job is not one you can just walk away from. He goes on the run, seeking atonement for his sins by helping the people he meets along the way. But his past cannot be easily forgotten and before long it is Milton who is hunted, and not the hunter. The Cleaner A career of state-sanctioned murder has taken its toll. Milton is troubled by nightmares, a long line of ghosts who torment his dreams. He resolves to make his next job his last and, then, perhaps, he can start to make amends for everything that he has done. Sharon Warriner is a single mother in the East End of London, suicidal with fear that she's lost her young son to a life in the gangs. After Milton saves her life, he promises to help. But the gang, and the charismatic rapper who leads it, is not about to cooperate with him. As London burns through summer riots, Milton finds himself in unfamiliar territory, dealing with an unfamiliar foe. And when his employer sends another agent after him, the odds against him are stacked even higher.
long and a little unkempt, a frond falling over his forehead in a wandering comma. There was a large tattoo of angel wings spread across his shoulders, claws at the tips and rows of etched feathers descending down his back until they disappeared beneath the towel; it was the souvenir of a night in Guatemala, out of his mind on Quetzalteca Especial and mescaline. Milton dressed and went down to the restaurant for breakfast. He found a table to himself and filled his plate with scrambled eggs from
interior of the car was finished in leather and the bass was so loud it throbbed through his kidneys. Bizness got into the car next to him and closed the door. He leant forwards and counter-clockwised the volume so he could speak more easily. “One of my boys has clocked you, younger. Says you got a lot of fight in you. That right?” “I don’t know,” he said, trying to stop his voice from trembling. “He says you do. You hang with Pops’s little crew, right? “Yeah,” Elijah said, tripping over the
quickly came to understand how the excitement and the camaraderie of the street had proven to be so attractive to the boy. He inevitably thought of his own peripatetic childhood, dragged around the Embassies and Consulates of Europe and the Middle East as his father followed a string of different postings. Money had never been a problem for the Miltons, but there were still comparisons to be drawn between Elijah’s early years and his own. Loneliness, a lack of roots, no foundations to build on.
mobile phones were held aloft, videoing the scene. Rutherford had seen shit like this before in Baghdad, but this was London. He found a side road and reversed the car into an open parking space. He set off, walking briskly. He didn’t know where Elijah was, but he did know what youngers would be like with something like this happening on their doorstep. They would be drawn to it like cats to free crack. His best chance was just to follow the mayhem. Shop owners were closing their businesses
flinty, emotionless eyes, he was afraid. “What happened?” “Arson.” “Do you know––” “I know.” Rutherford lowered his voice even lower and flicked his eyes towards Elijah. “You said he was in trouble––is it because of something he was mixed up in?” Milton nodded. “Have you told the police?” His voice was flat. “It’s gone beyond that.” “So?” Milton put his hand on Rutherford’s arm. “You need to do me a favour. Look after the boy. Keep an eye on him, keep on at him to train, he needs