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

dropped, his weapon clattering to the ground. He rolled onto his side. She aimed between his shoulder blades and fired three more shots, before turning and sighting the weapon on the body behind her. The man’s legs were engulfed in flames and his rubber trainers was fuelling the fire, glowing like firelighters among the flames. If he wasn’t moving while he was on fire, she figured he was going nowhere.

There were two vehicles approaching from Tokai. Both looked domestic. One old Japanese pickup laden with fruit, and a white Peugeot estate with a surfboard strapped to the roof. The pickup driver activated the vehicle’s hazard lights and opened the door. He was approaching the Peugeot. The driver of which, was standing at his open door and using his mobile phone. Caroline could see they were no threat to her.

She turned back to the Toyota, but the sudden rush of flame forced her backwards.

“Kruger!” she shouted.

There was no reply, but the fuel was burning fiercely and had now engulfed the cab. She took a step forwards, but the heat forced her back further. She desperately wanted to get to him, but was ashamed that her body wouldn’t allow her, her limbs rigid with fear, as though her brain had simply put on the brakes. Her survival instinct was forcing her back, there was no overriding it. Her eyes instantly dried as they were hit by the barrier of heat, her eyelids burned as she blinked, and her hair felt as though it were about to singe. Hot smoke caught the back of her throat and burned her lungs, and it was all over. She scurried backwards to clean air, no part of her able to control her actions and remain near the intensity of the inferno. She spat onto her fingers and rubbed them into her hot, dried eyeballs. She turned away from the fire, walked a few steps as she blinked life back into them.

There was a gut-wrenching scream from within the burning vehicle. But it was short lived. It turned into a harrowing gargle that sent a shiver down her spine.

A single gunshot rang out and made her recoil. For a moment, she reacted by raising the rifle, but almost as quickly, she could tell it had come from inside the wreckage and she lowered the weapon, allowing the muzzle to point at the ground. She turned and walked towards the two parked vehicles, taking some relief from the knowledge that the South African intelligence agent had found a way out of that hell and was no longer burning alive.

31

 

“I love the sea,” Amanda said, somewhat wistfully. “Gorgeous on a day like today. I would love to move down here, perhaps have a little cottage hideaway like you do.”

Her words stung, but King didn’t correct her as he looked out across the bay from Castle Beach. His cottage laid in tatters. A mass of rubble and burned-out timber. He’d never step foot in it again.

Amanda had taken the scenic route along Castle Drive, the road which wrapped its way around Pendennis Castle and took in the mouth of the Carrick Roads where it met the Atlantic, signifying the end of the English Channel. The water glistened and shimmied. The sky was deep blue, almost mirroring the sea. Three tankers were moored in the bay, waiting their turn for repairs or unloading at Falmouth docks. Days like this so early in the season were rare.

It was indeed a beautiful view. But he was in no mood for it. Amanda had performed the autopsy on Sir Ian Snell’s body. That wasn’t the problem. The problem had been her verdict. Or inherent lack of it.

“I need something to work on,” he said. “Anarchy to Recreate Society will be looking at new targets. There may just be one person left alive on the original rich list, but it’s constantly evolving. They never killed those people in order, and they won’t start now. There are potentially five targets, all of them at risk. I need all the information I can get to stop these people.”

“They’ll finish their list,” she said.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Their psyche.  They are a special bunch. They’ve delivered on every promise they’ve made so far.”

“So, give me something now!” King snapped. “I need to get moving. Your findings are important to me. I wouldn’t have hung around here waiting if they weren’t crucial to my investigation.”

“And I’ve already told you! I have to report my findings to the Home Secretary first,” she said, and in no way apologetically. “You have your orders and I have mine.”

“And that’s it?”

“We shared a few glasses of wine and a steak dinner. You make it sound like I owe you. We weren’t lovers,” she paused. “No matter how much you wanted us to be.”

“What?” King asked incredulously. “I have a fiancé, I told you that!”

“Well, why else would you invite me over for an intimate dinner in a secluded location?”

“What are you talking about? It was just dinner,” he glared across at her, but she was concentrating on the road and his stare went conveniently unnoticed. “So, by that statement, why did you come over? You have a fiancé also…”

“Maybe I wanted to sleep with you,” she said flippantly. “Or perhaps I felt obliged. Pressured into accepting a pass made by the lead investigator on the case. A career make-or- break case… your words, remember? Maybe I didn’t feel that I could turn down your advances? Look, don’t sweat it, I know that you’re taken. So am I. All I’m saying is, I don’t owe you anything, and my job comes first. I must present this to the Home Secretary. He will then, no doubt, fill in his minions.”

“Thanks,” he said warily. He had been wavering, but could now see Amanda Cunningham in a whole