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long and slow, like a tired sigh. She had heard the sound before, the man’s final breath, followed by a wet death rattle in his throat. She hurriedly unbuckled her seatbelt and clambered outside, stepping over the man on the ground. She was almost clear, when she felt him grab onto her leg and pull her close. She screamed again, but already had the weapon pointing down. She fired once at his head and felt his grip release. A fountain of blood pumped out of the exit hole and into the passenger foot-well. It surged and waned with every heartbeat, but became more diminutive with every second. She staggered backwards then fell onto her rear, watching the surge of blood pump as the man bled out.

She looked away, then down at her blood covered hands. The working parts of the gun in her hand had locked open, indicating that the weapon was empty. She dropped it onto the dusty ground beside her and cradled her head in her hands.

18

 

King had left the keys to the hire car with reception. He had organised the replacement glass through the hire company, declined their offer of a replacement vehicle as he was going to travel with Amanda Cunningham so would not need one, and been told that both screens would be replaced by a mobile specialist. The hire company were sending out someone to valet the interior by mid-afternoon.

He was waiting for Amanda in the hotel’s nautically-themed foyer when his mobile phone rang. He checked the caller ID and was relieved to see it was Caroline.

“Long time no speak,” he said.

“Oh darling!” she said breathily.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Caroline wasn’t one for dramatics.

“I was abducted. Don’t panic. I fought them off, I’m okay…”

“Where? Are you sure you’re alright?” He felt his heart pounding, his gut squeezing tightly. “Is there still a threat? Keep moving, don’t be static, never stop moving!”

“It’s okay, they’re down. And they’re staying that way.”

“Good girl.”

“I want friendlies. I was meeting someone today. Either he was a hostile, or the locals can’t be trusted. I think he was an imposter,” she said. “Somebody knew I was coming.”

“Have you got good battery? Your signal must be okay.”

There was a pause while she checked. “Yes, good battery, average signal.”

“Location? Approximates and headings?”

“I’d say six miles northwest of Cape Town. It’s a couple roads parallel to the main highway. There are shacks on the approach,” she paused. “Hills, scrub, no immediate buildings.”

“Right, I’m hanging up now. I’ll make a call and ring you back,” he paused. He wanted to say he loved her, to be careful. Instead he said, “Find a weapon, stay alert and keep out of sight,” and hung up. He dialled Simon Mereweather’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. “Alex King. Priority. Agent in distress! Return my call, now!”

A tense two minutes passed, in which time King had paced the nautically themed foyer and ended up climbing the steps to the carpark. His phone rang, and he pressed the answer icon.

“King?”

“Simon, Caroline’s is in trouble. Got a pen?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She’s been abducted, she says she’s taken care of her abductors.”

“Good girl.”

“That’s what I said. She estimated that she’s six or seven miles northwest of Cape Town. She has a good signal and battery life on her mobile.”

“Wait, I’ll run it…”

There was a long pause. King could hear the tapping of a keypad. He knew Mereweather would be searching for her signal. “Got her yet?” he asked impatiently.

“Yes. I have GPS coordinates. I’ll get the MI6 man at the embassy to send an asset to liaise with the locals. Did she say how she got away, or to what extent she has taken care of her abductors?”

“Not really, only that they were down and staying that way.”

“Right…”

“Problem?”

“More than a few, I’d imagine. Look, leave it with me. I’ll call her and put some meat on the bones.”

“Okay.”

“How are you doing down there? It’s all kicking off, isn’t it?”

“It is,” King said. “If only we knew why. Look, I’ll get a report back to you today, an email or airdrop from my iPhone later. Just concentrate on Caroline’s situation for now.” He hung up and called Caroline back. She answered on the first ring, which told King she was scared.

“Hello?”

“Simon Mereweather has your location. He’s calling the embassy and SIS will send a trusted local over to you. I’m not sure what police presence will follow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s South Africa. If you’re alright and nothing can trace back to you, it might be best to leave things be.”

“What? I’m not having that hang over me. Jesus, you know what it’s like to give the wrong people some leverage!”

King couldn’t argue with that. “How bad did it get?”

“Two men. They didn’t touch me, but they let me know what they were going to do alright,” she paused. “They were going to rape me and kill me.”

“Oh, Caroline…” He gripped the phone tightly, wanted to do some killing of his own. “How did it go down?” he asked. She told him, didn’t leave anything out. He felt helpless, wanted to hold her, comfort her, but by the sound of it she hadn’t needed protecting.

“Ah, there you are, Alex. I asked where you were at reception,” Amanda Cunningham said as she stepped next to him, then looked at the phone in his hand. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone.”

King nodded, turned back to his call.

“Who was that?” Caroline asked.

“It’s the coroner.”

“Where are you? She said, reception…”

“I’m at the St. Michael’s Hotel, in Falmouth.”

“Why?”

“Look, this should be about you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Look, I’d better go. Simon Mereweather needs to speak to you,

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