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

a great diversion. One of your fireworks up the exhaust and it will be a bunch of headless chickens down there.”

“If that is a bunkhouse, an IED in there would see our job easier.”

“That’s a lot of collateral, my friend.”

“There’s also a wireless receiver unit, solar panels and switch-feed generator on the roof. That place is the hub. If it goes up, the CCTV cameras on the house and other buildings mean nothing.” King shook his head. “As for collateral? It raises the odds a little more in our favour. I’ve got a Makarov and fourteen rounds. A few homemade bombs and an unarmed lothario who looks like he came dressed for the roulette tables in Monaco…” He looked at Rashid and shrugged. “Just saying…”

Rashid smiled. “But you’ve still got your sense of humour, so it will be okay.”

King ignored him, turned his attention to the house and its many windows. Romanovitch had invested in security measures there too. In the shape of net curtains bought for a few lari per pane in the local market. Or perhaps several thousand euros in Milan. Either way, King could not see in, but whoever was inside would undoubtedly be able to see out. They would be going in blind. It could only be done at night. As if to confirm this, four men stepped out of the hub. They loosened up, seemed to stretch as they talked. One man broke away and walked to the house, the other two waited for another man to step outside and they walked to one of the large outbuildings. He could not see if the men were armed, but he expected them to be.

“I’m thinking I get close, or at least, as close as I can,” King said. “There’s little moon tonight, I’ll use as much cover as I can and be ready to use an IED to breach the door to the main house.”

“While I create a diversion?”

“Exactly.”

“And you want that diversion to include putting an IED through the door to that security hub?”

“Best option.”

“Not for them.”

“There’s a lot of men down there. A lot of muscle, undoubtedly armed.” King looked at him earnestly. “I have everything riding on this. I really do appreciate your help so far,” he paused. “And I guarantee I will be there for you if you ever need me in the future, but I think it may be best if we part company.”

“You do?”

King shrugged. “I don’t think I can ask you to drop an IED through that door, not knowing how many are inside. And I don’t think it’s fair to. You have reservations. That much is clear. I’ll take it from here.” He raised the binoculars and looked back at the property below.

“Just like that?”

“Better all round.”

“I just think there’s a better way.”

“If I don’t get this done, I won’t see Caroline again. I know that.”

“Then kill Romanovitch and exfiltrate. Don’t complicate things taking a hostage of your own. For all you know, Catherine Milankovitch might not even be here.”

King rubbed a hand through his short hair. The thick strands sprung back as his hand moved further towards the back of his head. He sighed, shook his head.

“Your vision has become clouded.”

“You’re surprised?”

“No,” replied Rashid. “But this is a big deal. The man has security personnel and adequate measures. You have a short-ranged pistol and nowhere near enough rounds for a pitched battle with multiple targets. And I’m not armed at all.”

“I’ll manage,” he paused. “I always have.”

“Like in France?”

“I knew you’d show up.”

“And in that bloody mosque?”

“You had a gun, and your bindings were almost cut through.”

“You must have a death wish.”

“I’m still here,” King replied tersely.

“And so am I. But if we get down there and into a battle with hardened Russian mafia, most of whom are probably ex-Spetsnaz, we’ll get in trouble. We don’t have enough firepower. Or men.”

King shrugged. “No hard feelings,” he said. “Get out of here. Go back and help Ramsay, to find Caroline through Helena. Keep it a two-pronged attack.”

Rashid stood up, took another look down at the distant property. He glanced at King, but he was studying something in the binoculars. He didn’t say anything more. It was a suicide mission with ten men, let alone one.

King watched Romanovitch step out onto the patio and make his way towards the Olympic-sized pool. He had studied the photographs that Helena had attached to her text message. The man looked a little older and greyer. A little fleshier. But there was no mistaking him. He rested the binoculars down beside him and turned around.

Rashid had gone.

62

 

Caroline had showered twice and stared into the mirror for a good while before showering again. She hadn’t seen her own reflection for a month and it seemed a novelty. In the car, she had looked haggard and worn. Now she looked cleaner, but still unfamiliar. There was something different about the way she looked, the way she looked back at herself. She knew part of her had died, lamented the feeling of loss. She hoped one day the sparkle in her eyes would return.

She couldn’t seem to rid herself of her ordeal, cleanse herself of the degradation of her capture and trafficking to the east. No amount of showering left her feeling clean. The way The Beast had touched her in the first house she had been taken to, the threat of what he was going to try back at the farmhouse and what he was going to do to her in that derelict, pitch-dark barn during her escape. And the blood that had splattered over her when she had killed him, and that too of Michael’s. It seemed as if it would never wash out. She stared at herself, deep into her eyes.