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

let alone signs of his glucose induced coma, then anybody can see that your examination was bogus. Basically, you’ve been uncovered, whatever you decide to do with me.”

The revelation had stopped Amanda in her tracks. She looked contemptuously at Caroline, but couldn’t hold her stare. She looked past her, at some apparent point of interest on the wall. It was clear to Caroline that she was weighing her alternatives, making her next decision based on this revelation. Up until now, Amanda Cunningham hadn’t known that she was on somebody’s radar. Let alone a team from MI5.

She let out a deep sigh, then swept a hand towards the bath, smiled as Giorgi arrived with two more buckets. He opened the lids and started to pour the buckets into the bath.

“Thames water,” she said. “Full of parasites, minerals, sewerage. Nasty stuff, but the same water they’ll find your body in tomorrow. Or sometime afterwards. You see, Giorgi here, will hold you down, drown you, and the water that goes into your lungs, your stomach, that even gets sucked up into your other orifices as you struggle, as your body goes into spasm, will be the same water that you’ll be found in. It won’t look like murder, just an unfortunate trip and fall. Giorgi knows a quiet place to drop you off. Much easier to do it here, at our convenience. Do the job right. Too many variables drowning you out there, potential witnesses, the chance of escape. No, this way, we get to kill you, then dispose of you in the right location. One we’ve checked thoroughly and are confident that nobody will see.”

Caroline could feel her pulse quickening. It was racing like she had sprinted to exhaustion, but she tried to remain calm. There may be an opportunity, but only if she was calm enough to recognise it. “Amanda,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to do this…”

“No, I do,” she said. “We can control this. Bukov and Giorgi can silence the chain. And besides, I really want to. I want to watch you die. You’re a sanctimonious, stuck up bitch. I want to see all that confidence, all that superiority wiped off your face.” She turned to Giorgi and said, “Let’s do this.”

53

 

King could hear Caroline screaming from upstairs. He had heard and recorded their conversation using the parabolic directional microphone he had been given by Randall. He had heard enough and was now outside in the darkness, studying the property and working out his best approach.

Intrigue had kept him listening to the live feed. And now he was worried he’d left it too late. He had wanted answers, needed them. But things had escalated quickly and now he could hear her desperation, and could only imagine what was happening. He had moved as soon as Amanda Cunningham had told Caroline what the dirty water was for.

The building was derelict. One of eight empty terraced houses that looked set of demolition. They were on the bank of the Thames, in an area that would have once thrived industrially. A vacant warehouse loomed behind the houses and he had noticed a property development sign on a security fence further up the road.

King tried another door. It was locked, but unlike the previous two he had looked at, this one was not battened shut. He put his ear to the wood, pushed so hard it almost made a seal. He could feel vibrations. He could hear muffled moans. This had to be it. This was the door. And then, ominous in its abruptness, he heard nothing. Stillness.

King stepped back and aimed a powerful front kick at the lock. Unlike at Amanda’s flat, the door gave way. He stumbled into the hallway and flicked on his torch. He could hear a scream above, and a shout. And then came heavy footsteps. He raised the torch and pistol expectantly.

The noise, when it came was devastating. He knew, as he dived out of the line of fire, that it was an AK47. He had heard enough of them to know. From both ends. He tore down the hallway, bypassed the stairs to his left and fired five shots into the underside of the staircase above his head. He heard a grunt, then the reply which came in twenty or so 7.62x39mm bullets. They tore through the wooden tread and down into the floor at King’s feet. King had nine rounds remaining, having left the other two magazines in the car. A stupid mistake, but he had been panicked at the speed in which Amanda’s decision had come. He could hear a magazine being changed. The AK47 was a rudimentary tool that was rough and tinny, sharp and hollow. It worked every time because of its simplicity, but it was a noisy and crude thing to work with. King was out from his position and running. He caught the bannister and swung round, took the steps two at a time. When he threw himself to the landing, he saw the man bringing the rifle up to aim. He fired. He wasn’t even close, new he wouldn’t be, but it was enough to make the man flinch and that gave King enough time to empty his weapon into the man’s neck and face. The man’s head snapped back, and he pulled the trigger in reflex. The AK47 rattled off and bullets tore up the wooden floorboards around King.

King braced, but felt nothing except splinters of wood and dust raining upon him. He pushed himself up and charged up the stairs onto the landing, slipping in Giorgi’s blood and briefly losing his footing.

There were a series of battery-powered camping lights placed at intervals, but the most light emanated from an open doorway to his left. He knew he should take his time, check for further threats, but he was also painfully aware that there was no time. There was