Born the Same

BORN THE SAME ANTONY DUNFORD This edition published in Great Britain in 2023 by Hobeck Books Limited, 24 Brookside Business Park, Stone, Staffordshire ST15 0RZ www.hobeck.net Copyright © Antony Dunford 2023 This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in this novel are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or localities is entirely coincidental Antony Dunford has asserted his right under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the copyright holder. A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 978-1-915-817-14-3 (pbk) ISBN 978-1-915-817-13-6 (ebook) Cover design by Jayne Mapp Design Printed and bound in Great Britain CONTENTS Are you a thriller seeker? Part I Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Part II Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 About the Author Acknowledgments Hobeck Books – the home of great stories Hunted ARE YOU A THRILLER SEEKER? Hobeck Books is an independent publisher of crime, thrillers and suspense fiction and we have one aim – to bring you the books you want to read. For more details about our books, our authors and our plans, plus the chance to download free novellas, sign up for our newsletter at www.hobeck.net. You can also find us on Twitter @hobeckbooks or on Facebook www.facebook.com/hobeckbooks10. For Conor Reid Welcome to the world PART ONE CHAPTER ONE “Don’t shoot, I’m a journalist.” Colm had dreamed of saying those words for real since he was at school, since he’d heard them in a film. Not in English, but in a local language. A dream of standing in some remote part of the world beyond the threadbare blanket of law and order that comforts the fortunate, where survival in the moment heightens every sense. A dream of men and women screaming, guns waving and firing in the air, where no one knows what is going to happen next. Until “Don’t shoot, I’m a journalist” brings calm and trust, a trust in a quest for truth. That was the dream. In reality, Colm was standing less than a kilometre from his office in the centre of Dublin staring at what looked like a pebble. At first glance, and it did not warrant a second glance, it was small, about the size of desiccated apple. Light brown in colour, its surface was scarred like pumice or a sponge. Perhaps the whole thing was porous. It sat on a piece of paper in a wooden case, the glass lid propped open for the occasion. Had he seen it on the ground, he would have dismissed it as a bit of sandstone. If he even noticed it. ‘Is that it?’ he asked, his pen hovering over a blank page in his notebook. Doctor MacMahon nodded, smiling broadly. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’ she said. ‘That’s part of a bear?’ She nodded. ‘Part of the patella. That’s the knee.’ ‘And why is it amazing?’ ‘Because of these.’ Doctor MacMahon, her hands protected by latex gloves, picked the bone up and turned it, pointing at a series of straight lines marking the surface. Colm leaned forward. ‘They look like cuts.’ ‘They are. Cuts from a stone knife. This animal was butchered.’ ‘And that’s the amazing thing?’ Doctor MacMahon was oblivious to Colm’s tone. She had enough enthusiasm for them both. ‘Not just that. We’ve had the bone carbon dated, technology that wasn’t available when it was found. This animal was butchered around twelve and a half thousand years ago, which means people have been living on Ireland for more than two thousand years longer than anyone previously thought.’ She paused, as if to allow herself time to contemplate the enormity of her own words. ‘It’s been verified by three different labs,’ she added. ‘Two here, one in the UK.’ Colm grunted and made a note. He found it difficult to share her enthusiasm. As headlines went, this was hardly career-making stuff. Hey, remaining newspaper readers of Ireland, you know that date you weren’t aware of and wouldn’t have cared about if you were? Well, it turns out it was wrong. ‘People ate bears?’ he said. ‘They might have. They certainly used their bones to make tools, and their skin to make clothes. Bear teeth have been found with holes drilled through them, which suggests they were used in a necklace, as jewellery.’ Doctor MacMahon placed the bone back in its case with a gentleness bordering on reverence. Colm shivered. The museum’s stone floors, and high ceilings kept it cool, even in August. Not that Dublin in August was particularly warm. ‘There were bears in Ireland?’ Colm asked, for the sake of something to say. ‘Oh, yes. That’s rather interesting, actually. Please, follow me.’ She led the way out of the storeroom, up some stairs, and along a corridor, emerging onto the balcony inside the rotunda. The vastness of the space and the architecture of the building impressed Colm far more than the little piece of bone had. Doctor MacMahon was oblivious to her surroundings. She talked as she walked. ‘Genetically the Irish bears were a cross between the European brown bear, and the polar bear.