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

then ridden the rest of the way up with King, who had turned around and parked nose facing outwards, ready to escape if they needed to. Rashid’s car would serve as a back-up plan if they were compromised by Romanovitch’s men and could not make it back to King’s car. Leaving the keys was merely soldier thinking – Rashid may not make it back, but it didn’t mean that King would be out of escape options. King did the same with his hire car, returning the favour for Rashid. The two men now made their way down the mountain slope, where they could see the Russian mafia boss’ property spread out below.

“I’m going to have to up my rate,” Rashid said, following King’s route through some loose boulders. “I keep getting into shit with you, and you never pay your bar tab.”

“Pretty sure I saved your arse in that mosque.”

“Wasn’t it the other way around?” Rashid laughed.

“It’s all a bit hazy now,” King said and ducked down behind a large boulder.

“Well, I saved your backside in France, that’s for sure.”

“Quit your bitching,” King replied. “At least I get you out from behind a desk.”

“It’s not exactly slow in the regiment.”

“It is if you ravage the daughters of senior officers who can block your career path.”

Rashid shrugged. “He should watch out. He’s got a fit wife too…”

King smiled, checked the position of the sun before he raised the binoculars and studied the property below. He could see that Romanovitch had undertaken work since Google Earth had been overhead. The main building was a McMansion. Two-tone colours, pillars and tall windows. He estimated twenty rooms or more and could see that not only did the property boast an Olympic-sized swimming pool, but a sizable pool ran along the south side of the building, entirely enclosed in glass. The gardens reminded King of French palace lawns, with striped mowing patterns, water features and statues of women in vulnerable poses.

“The guy’s got it going on,” Rashid commented.

“And then some.”

“Let’s have a peek.”

King handed him the binoculars, turned his attention to the boundaries where the well-cultivated lawns and shrub borders met the Georgian mountain scrub.

“No fences,” Rashid said. “Other than the front gate and wall across the front of the property. Have to watch for motion sensors, but I doubt it. This is wild land. I imagine there are mountain goats, deer and wolves up here. Small vermin too. The sensors would be going off constantly.”

King could see that the property was set back from the entrance road like a horseshoe. A wall ran along the road, with large iron gates to the driveway, but the sides of the mountain rose up on three sides like a quarry.

“Got a few toys.” Rashid handed him back the binoculars. “Ferrari, I think. And a Rolls Royce.”

“Standard,” King replied. “Most probably got a few more in one of those barns.”

“We’re in the wrong business,” Rashid paused. “Or at least, on the wrong side.”

“Never.”

“Ever thought about selling those skills?”

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

King stared at him. “Not once.”

“Me neither. Just shitting with you.”

King raised the binoculars again and skirted the perimeter. He watched a man walking across one of the lawns. He stooped and picked something up. King could see it was a hoe. The man reached an area of concrete, in the centre of which was a water feature. The man started to scrape something off the hard ground. King watched for a moment, then moved on. He could see that the Ferrari was a new model. He didn’t covet such cars, but he had flicked through enough magazines and satellite channels to recognise it. Car models changed so quickly these days that he could barely keep up, but he knew this one had electric capabilities that was more of a nod for pairing it to its petrol engine for almighty starship performance, rather than to save the planet. It cost north of a million and that’s when King started to lose interest. He liked the idea of a car a tenth of the price, providing he won the lottery, but he had seen too much of the worst in the world to know what a million pounds would do in some places, and the lives it would change. He saw such spending as a finger up to the rest of the world. Especially when it was criminals like Romanovitch who held the finger. He thought about the misery the man would have caused. He thought about the IEDs he had made, and how they would send the cars up into the air with the Russian mafia boss inside. An easy way to get the job done. But the job had now turned into a snatch and escape. And he could care less what happened to Romanovitch.

“There’s a guard coming out of what looks like a bunkhouse.”

“How can you tell?”

“That he’s a guard or that it’s a bunkhouse?”

“Both,” said Rashid.

“He has a sidearm. Can’t leave it alone. And the unit looks both drab and strategically placed,” King said, handing him the binoculars. “There’s a blue hue in the window. I reckon it’s coming from a bank of CCTV monitors.”

“Or a laptop.”

“Possible.”

“And the strategic element?”

“Close to the gate, enough distance from the house to be discreet and there are no cameras on the building. Every other building has a CCTV camera fixed to it, providing eyes-on across all points on the compass. The building is in the line of sight for at least three of those cameras, which provides the security personnel with a reference-point. If the worst-case scenario happened for them, then they can monitor an enemy’s progress in relation to their position.”

“Fair one.” Rashid slid down behind a large boulder and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He said, “I think the cars would make