Outlaws, Matt Rogers [best ereader under 100 TXT] 📗

the steps without hesitation. There was no one visibly waiting for him. Not even a temporary lighting setup. He reached the archway and stepped through, into the ruins’ interior.

Which turned out to be nonexistent. What remained of the castle acted as a U-shaped perimeter for an uneven patch of hillside exposed to the stars.

There was no roof over his head, and his eyes were adjusting to the lack of light, so when he came to rest between a couple of small boulders he made out the four silhouettes immediately.

They were there, motionless, waiting for him in the centre of the ruins.

Four old men in suits.

Apart from that, their features were indiscernible.

Slater exaggerated a shiver, making sure they knew he was mocking them. ‘Scary stuff.’

No one offered a response.

They all stared.

Like rock golems, frozen in time.

Now, Slater had to stifle an actual shiver.

The old man on the far left said, ‘It’s discreet.’

His voice was low, and commanding, and utterly confident. Every syllable had a purpose. He didn’t waste words.

Slater said, ‘An apartment in Manhattan is discreet. This is unnecessary.’

‘We think it’s perfectly necessary.’

‘Because you have multiple vantage points?’ Slater said. ‘So your men can draw a bead on me? You’re a suit. You don’t spend time in the field. So you didn’t think about the fact that,’ — Slater’s Glock materialised in his hand in a half-second, its barrel aimed rigidly at the old man’s forehead — ‘I’m a hell of a lot faster than your men. And now you’re fucked. It’s a standoff. Your man shoots me, and you die. You’re not ready to die.’

‘I am,’ the old man said, supremely confident.

Slater didn’t blink.

The man continued. ‘If you pull that trigger we’ll have Alexis Diaz cut up into little pieces while she’s still alive.’

Slater’s stomach knotted. He didn’t budge.

He said, ‘You wanted me here to talk. So talk.’

‘Not before you put that gun at your feet and kick it over.’

‘Not a chance in hell.’

The man on the right, in a husky, gravelly voice, said, ‘Then your girlfriend is already dead.’

Like they’d synchronised their speech beforehand, the man on the left continued, ‘We don’t even have to give the command. It’s my men who are watching who will. Maybe they already have. You’re acting awfully threatening. One of my best men is probably strangling the life out of her as we speak. Every second you keep that gun aimed at my head is another second she can’t breathe.’

Slater put the gun down.

He kicked it over.

He said, ‘Talk.’

Even in the darkness, he saw them all smile.

Wicked smiles.

They’d tasted victory.

His heart skipped a beat.

37

Slater had the humility to realise all his skepticism about the dramatic nature of the location had been posturing.

Really, deep down, he knew he was fucked.

The men in front of him had full control. They had the resources of a global superpower at their fingertips. They could do whatever they wanted with total anonymity. They could snap their fingers and have both him and Alexis wiped out in seconds. There’d be men watching her apartment, lying in wait for her to try and make a run for it. They’d snatch her. It wouldn’t be hard.

He quickly realised the only option he had was to play along.

No matter what they wanted.

The man on the left said, ‘We understand you are no longer satisfied with your career.’

‘That’s right.’

Choose your words carefully.

Don’t overcommit.

The old man said, ‘May I ask why?’

‘I’ve given my life and my health to my country,’ Slater said. ‘My brain will be mush twenty years from now. I probably won’t live to see old age, even if I don’t take another scratch. Because of accumulative damage. I want to enjoy what little time I have left on this planet. Is that good enough?’

‘You’re a useful asset,’ the man said. ‘So is King.’

‘King isn’t leaving.’

‘You don’t know that. The two of you are inseparable. Perhaps he promised to stay, but that’s probably a false platitude. He’s probably going to reconsider less than a week after you leave.’

‘Is that what this is about?’

‘We’ve got hotheaded operatives with similar physical gifts,’ the old man said. ‘What we don’t have are the pair of you. You’re not easily replicable. Maybe we could forge a couple of killers into what the two of you are, but it’d take us years. We’re in the process. But we’re not there yet.’

‘So…?’

‘So you’re not out. We need more notice. You can’t up and leave. You will leave behind positions that require filling, and we don’t have the necessary candidates to fill them. Yet.’

‘What happened to Black Force? What happened to all those men?’

‘They were good,’ the old man said. ‘But they weren’t you.’

‘I won’t be useful anymore,’ Slater said. ‘My heart isn’t in this world. That’s most of the reason King and I are in the position we’re in. Because this is our whole lives, and we dedicated everything to it. I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You must.’

Slater opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. He realised they were useless. He wouldn’t convince these four of anything. They were miles above him on the hierarchy. He had individual talent, but they wielded entire departments and divisions.

Big, big difference.

He said, ‘Whatever I can do, King can do. And he won’t leave.’

The four silhouettes lingered, silent, watchful.

Slater said, ‘What?’

One of the men in the middle — Slater couldn’t be sure which — said, ‘I’d wager we understand human motivation a little better than you do. We’ve been pulling strings for decades. King will go if you do.’

'What if I can guarantee he won’t?’

‘You haven’t confirmed that with him.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I can read it all over your face, and all I have is the moonlight. You’re throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. You’re a bad liar.’

‘This is what he does,’ Slater said. ‘This is his life.’

‘Same goes for you.’

‘Not anymore.’

‘Too bad,’ the old man said. ‘We have a couple of operations in the pipeline that we may need you both for. Are you