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

King simply shrugged. “I don’t know, Simon…”

“Why so long?” he asked. “I mean, it’s been, what? Seventeen… no, eighteen years?”

“Can’t beat the Reaper,” King said.

Simon Grant sat back down on the edge of the boot space. He sagged. He’d been with King on an operation, seen what the man could do. He wasn’t a fighter, never had been. He knew if the man was there to kill him, then he was as good as dead. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing more than delay the inevitable. “Can you give me some time?”

King had heard this before. In Switzerland, many years ago. A man who knew he had been beaten before the fight had begun. King had earned his moniker from that operation. The Reaper. The man had been a traitor and he had taken a softer ending with drink, a warm bath and a sharp knife.

“How’s Lisa?” asked King.

Grant’s expression hardened. “Fine,” he said. “Please, leave her out of it.”

“And David? He’s what? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six,” Grant said. King noticed his eyes brighten, could see the man’s pride in his son. King felt a pang of indifference, jealousy even. Nobody had ever felt that way about him. “He’s a teacher now. In Gothenburg. Married too. A little one on the way.”

“About the same age I was when we met,” King mused.

“Good times,” Grant said sarcastically. “Seriously, why now?”

“I want you to do something for me,” said King. “I want you to do one last job. Afterwards, you’ll never see me again.”

“What?” Grant asked incredulously.

“It’s in Sodertalje, a quiet commuter town.”

Grant nodded. “I know the place,” he said.

“The target is a secure building. A post office. Time delays, motion sensors and a strong room,” said King. “Inside the strong room is a computer server. I need to access it tonight.”

“You can’t seriously…” Grant shook his head. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said.

“You do tonight. I trust you. And I need your help.”

“I coach football to rich kids after school. I drive a taxi at weekends. I haven’t broken into anything since France, all those years ago.”

“Simon, you were one of the best,” said King. “And skills can go rusty, but not to someone like you. My hand is still in, and it’s a two-man job. I need you.”

“And afterwards?”

“I’m gone.”

“Sure…”

“No, really. I don’t ever intend to return to Sweden.”

“And leave me dead? Or take me back with you.”

“No.”

“The money’s gone.”

“Life must be expensive in Sweden.”

“I was on the run a while, still am I suppose,” he said. “It costs money.”

“I gather that.”

“And Forsyth?”

King shook his head. “Dirty. And very dead.”

“So, why are you here?”

“For your help.”

“And not to arrest me?”

“No.”

“So, you want me to break the law? Nothing more?”

King stared coldly at him. “I want you to help me. If you do, I’m gone. Nobody has to know where you are.”

“Doesn’t sound like anybody cares. Maybe I’ll say no.” Grant stood up, closed the boot lid. “I bet all those people in charge back then are retired by now. What are you, forty? Time you got out of this game.”

“I watched you play with your son,” King said quietly.

“What?”

“All those years ago. Lisa, your son and you. In the park. It started to snow. You kicked the ball with your son, left together. I walked away. I said I couldn’t find you, told them the lead we had was a dead end. I was eventually reassigned. The case was closed.”

“I…”

“I gave you those years,” said King. “All of those birthdays and Christmases. All those school plays, sports days. Holidays the three of you took. You and Lisa had another child a few years later. I kept the odd tab on you, kept my ear to the ground to see if anybody fancied their chances tracing the money. All these years you had since Holman, O’Shea and Neeson had their claws into you. Everything you have done since is on me.” King put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m not going to bully you, nor threaten what you have here. I need your help. Somebody has abducted my fiancé and is holding her. I think a lead may be in that post office. In fact, I’m certain of it. I love my fiancé. I need to get her back safely, and I need you to help me.”

40

 

Cape Town, South Africa

 

“You’re out on a limb here,” Rashid said.

“I know.”

“Is this official? MI6 are onto this person?” Ramsay asked.

“No.”

“Then what gives?” Rashid asked dubiously. “You’ve dug into the South African Secret Service’s affairs, come up with this guy?”

“No.”

Rashid shook his head. “What then?”

“I liked Caroline.”

“She’s spoken for,” said Ramsay.

“Not like that. Well, alright, but not for that reason.”

Rashid glanced at Ramsay, then looked back and frowned. “Then what reason?”

Ryan Beard was tall and blonde, smartly dressed in a white linen suit. He looked like a model on assignment, the glistening sea behind him, Table Mountain to his right. He leaned against the white SUV and shrugged. “Various. Firstly, Caroline was a piece of work. She took out two would be rapists and assassins. She then carried on with her assignment, got ambushed by two guys. Between her and the South African Secret Service agent who died, she got out alive. The agent was sacrificed by a traitor in the SASS. We work closely with local intelligence. There’s no room for traitors.”

“And?” Ramsay asked incredulously.

“And, what?”

“You said, various reasons. Why else are you doing this?”

“I don’t follow.” Beard glanced back at the Mercedes hire car. Marnie was seated in the passenger seat and working on her laptop, apparently not having noticed the impressive sight of Table