The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

never really knew. All he knew was that they always hated his guts at the end of the fling. He wasn’t boyfriend material. Couldn’t give a damn either. “You alright, luv?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she said, curtly.

“Caught you looking,” he smiled.

“And?”

“Are you interested?”

“Of course not!”

“Good. So, get back to the computer and tell us what you’ve found.”

Ramsay shifted awkwardly, but he didn’t respond or interfere.

“Helena Milankovitch. Thirty-six. Born in Belarus, moved to Moscow when she was eight, later moved to the Ukraine. Left home at sixteen, wound up in Georgia around eighteen, worked in the Black Sea resorts of Batumi and Kobuleti. Dancer, exotic. Hostess, escort and then prostitute, by all accounts. She was involved in the Bratva, or the Russian brotherhood. The mafia. She was a hostess. The sort that hangs on your arm, encourages expensive drinks, big bets on the tables, sort of bleed the rich men dry.”

“Met a few of them in my time,” Rashid said. “Except I’m not rich, and drink shit lager, but you know…” He shrugged and gave the woman a wink. “I’d buy you a Cinzano and lemonade, though.”

“You’re all class.”

“Class of one, luv.” He smiled. “You’d get dinner as well. Well, some nuts to nibble on.”

“What?”

“Nuts on the bar. Crikey, you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

Ramsay frowned. “You’re breaking about four codes of conduct in the work place,” he said.

“I haven’t had the paperwork yet.”

“It’s about twenty pages long,” the woman said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “So, I imagine you’d need to keep your entire weekend free to read it.”

“Damn. I’ve got plans this weekend,” he smiled. “I’ve got a hot date. A real looker.”

“Really? What’s her name?” the woman asked incredulously.

Rashid leaned forward, his chin almost touching her shoulder as he read from her ID and lanyard. “Marnie Adams…”

The woman smiled, but she also flushed red. She was an attractive brunette, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and the thin-rimmed glasses she wore had slid down her nose. She pushed them back up with her finger and smiled. “I think my boyfriend will have something to say about that,” she said.

“Well, maybe you’d best not tell him you’re spending the weekend with me just yet… You’ll have to think of an excuse…”

“You can rest assured, I’ll be spending the weekend with him.”

“Meh…”

Ramsay coughed, but Rashid looked Marnie in the eyes, gave a little wink, then unhurriedly straightened up and turned his eyes back to the screen. “Yes, that’s about half-a-dozen more codes of conduct right there.”

“Best keep me in the field then,” he replied.

“Well, I think we’d better work out a plan,” Ramsay suggested. “And I’ll tell you now; you’re not going to be free this weekend.” He took out his mobile phone as he heard the bleep, unlocked it and started to scroll the screen.

“You hear that, Marnie? We’ll have to take a rain-check,” Rashid said. He turned to Neil Ramsay. “Sweden,” he said. “That should be our first port of call. We need to go to that post office and see what they can offer.”

“Like what?” Ramsay asked, still distracted by his phone.

“CCTV for one. They’ll have it for certain. We need to find footage of the safety deposit box. We need to see who put it inside, or even what they put inside.”

Ramsay nodded. “Or… we could go via South Africa.”

Rashid frowned. “Where exactly does South Africa figure?”

“This has just come through from Mereweather,” he said, flicking the text down. “When Caroline was investigating a lead in South Africa, looking for the identity of the sniper Anarchy to Recreate Society used in their campaign, she was abducted and very nearly assassinated. Suffice to say she was okay, but she was assisted out of the country by an MI6 field officer, a man named Ryan Beard. He knew of King’s reputation while he was with MI6. He has the name of the South African Secret Service agent who was corrupted by Helena Snell, as she was then, and who betrayed both Caroline and one of their own agents who was chaperoning her to her interview with a witness at Pollsmoor Prison.”

“A link to Helena,” Rashid said quietly. “Well, let’s get going.”

“I need to speak to Simon Mereweather first, get more on this Ryan Beard fellow.”              “Fine, you do that. I think Marnie better come,” he said seriously. “She can work on finding out more, use this additional information in her searches, be on hand to keep us up to date.”

“What?” Marnie exclaimed. She took off her glasses, stared at Rashid, but it had the opposite affect to what she imagined, making her features softer and altogether warmer. “Sir, I don’t…”

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Ramsay said. “You can work on Wi-Fi, and it will keep us in the loop with time zones.”

“But South Africa is on the same time!”

“With Sweden then,” he said. “We’ll work on returning via Stockholm.” He put his mobile phone into his pocket and picked up a file as he headed to the door. “Get ready, both of you. Meet back here with your passports and carry-on bags. No luggage.” He checked his watch. “Say, in two hours? That should give you both enough time.”

Rashid shrugged. “Suits me,” he said. “Just got to go back to the Holiday Inn and grab my bag.”

“But, Sir!” Marnie called after him, but it was too late. Ramsay had already closed the door and was hurrying down the corridor. She looked at Rashid, glared as she slipped on her glasses and took out her own mobile phone. “Happy?”

“Absolutely,” Rashid smiled. “I told you I’d see you this weekend.” He stood up and walked to the door. “Tell your boyfriend not to wait up…”

38

 

Caroline could see the mountains