Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

forgot Gates and his men roughed you up.’

Slater said, ‘I’m fine. Thank God that role’s over. I don’t know how much more I could have taken.’

‘More than you think,’ King said. ‘You’re not as impulsive as you think you are. You haven’t been for a good while.’

Slater paused, taking his time to process the compliment.

Then he said, ‘Thank you.’

Violetta said, ‘It’s eight. Almost showtime.’

Slater said, ‘I’m hitting the armoury.’

Violetta hesitated.

So did King.

Slater said, ‘What?’

She said, ‘We hadn’t discussed—’

‘I assume you left me out deliberately, King,’ Slater said. ‘On the phone, you said you’d only be there with Violetta.’

King said, ‘I thought you could be put to use somewhere else.’

Slater nodded, almost gleeful. ‘Hence the armoury.’

‘Don’t make a scene.’

‘Of course not,’ Slater said, turning his palms out. ‘I’ll be quiet as a mouse.’

King nodded.

Slater said, ‘But you know damn well I’m not letting a single one of them leave Arden alive.’

He turned and walked out before they could try to talk him out of it.

51

A suburban Range Rover peeled out of the estate at twenty to nine.

It seemed they had an entire showroom at their disposal, but it was simply forethought. The estate had come with a six-car garage. They’d filled each parking space immediately, only days after moving in. Better to be overprepared than the alternative.

King drove.

Gloria Kerr sat in the passenger seat, her hands cable-tied. There was no tape around her body. Slater had de-mummified her as expertly as he’d tied her up in the first place. It was quickly becoming a crutch of his.

Violetta sat in the back with Ward. His hands were cable-tied, too, but only for dramatic effect. The cord looped tight around his wrists but had been pre-cut between his hands. He was free to separate them whenever he pleased, but he kept them together in front of him to make himself look like a prisoner.

He had a compact Glock 26 — leant to him by Slater — concealed in an appendix holster under his dirty uniform. They hadn’t given him a change of clothes. They wanted him easily identifiable to Ray, and if he was a useless hostage they were going to throw away for Ray to murder, then they wouldn’t care about him enough to give any thought to creature comforts. They’d leave him in his sweat-soaked, bloody uniform, because why the hell should they lift a finger for him in the first place?

Slater wasn’t in the car.

Appearances were important, so Violetta didn’t say a word to Ward. Kerr was listening from the passenger seat, keenly aware of her surroundings. King didn’t speak, either, focusing on the road trawling past as he turned out of the Ridges.

Kerr spoke first. ‘You two are hypocrites, you know that? So is the black guy.’

‘“The black guy” has a name,’ King said.

‘I don’t care,’ Kerr said. ‘He’s an idiot just like the pair of you. All that talk about justice and nobility and now you’re handing me back to Ray.’

‘He needs you,’ King said. ‘And he had someone to trade.’

Kerr threw her chin over her shoulder, gesturing to Ward diagonally behind her. ‘Who the hell is this?’

‘Alan Ward,’ Violetta said. ‘A junior officer Ray is none too happy with.’

Kerr quietened, thinking. Then she twisted as best she could in her seat. ‘What’d you do?’

‘Ran away from him.’

‘Shot him in the chest, too,’ King said. ‘Don’t forget that.’

‘Mmmm,’ Kerr mused. ‘He won’t like that.’

‘No,’ Violetta said. ‘He certainly won’t.’

Kerr said, ‘So it’s even worse. You’re letting this guy get killed. Probably tortured, knowing Ray. Maybe even sodomised. There’s been rumours the old pig swings in both directions. But I’d say that’s fifty-fifty. Rumours can be unsubstantiated.’

Ward’s face went ghost white.

King didn’t blame the guy.

If this doesn’t work, Ward was thinking, I’m worse than dead.

There were two options for the cop.

Give up completely.

Or make sure to fight harder for King and Slater to ensure his own self-preservation.

Ward made the smart choice.

He kept his mouth shut and didn’t confirm any of Kerr’s suspicions. He gazed out the window, pretending to fight back tears. Kerr bought it. She settled back into her seat and stared out the windshield at the road flashing past. Her face was smug.

King feigned irritation. ‘What?’

She said, ‘I’m not as stupid as you think I am.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘There’s no way you’re betraying everything you stand for,’ she said. ‘That’s not what purists like you do.’

Silence.

She said, ‘I know exactly what this is.’

She turned in her seat again, focusing on Ward. She waited for him to stop stargazing and notice her watching him like a hawk. He tried to suppress his discomfort.

He couldn’t.

She said, ‘Good luck tonight, honey.’

He didn’t answer.

King said, ‘Don’t talk to him.’

Kerr ignored him. She kept staring at Ward, unblinking. ‘Just be sure you’re making the right decision.’

Violetta said, ‘Shut up.’

King reached over to turn Kerr’s head away.

Before he could, she whispered, ‘Think it over.’

She winked at Ward.

King shoved her against the passenger door, hard enough to silence her. The smugness remained, wafting through the cabin. She was so sure of herself, despite her circumstances. So confident it would all work out.

King had a moment of crippling self-doubt.

Is this the right call?

What are we doing here?

The primal part of his brain told him that he and Slater should have relied on old-fashioned methods. It had served them well in the past. The quintessential frontal assault, tapping into their superhuman reflexes that made them extreme outliers compared to your average combatants. They’d stormed strongholds, terrorist camps … hell, they’d even mowed through dozens of mercenaries on an icebreaker ship in Russia, commandeered by forces intent on kickstarting a third World War.

But every time they’d done it in the past there’d been nothing to lose except their own lives.

If they stormed the warehouse like charging bulls, Alexis would die.

Restraint had to be used.

Tact had to be implemented.

That was the only way forward.

But now King’s heart was in his throat. He was re-evaluating, recalculating, factoring in Gloria Kerr seeing right through the shtick. Did it matter if she