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

her in. He had not involved himself with any contact with children in almost twenty years of service in the intelligence services. He had never considered them to be collateral damage, had gone out of his way and risked the outcome of entire operations to keep children coming to harm. Now, with the woman he loved taken as leverage, he had barely considered taking the girl hostage, of terrifying her, of using her as a pawn.

King walked across the room and eased at the edge of the duct tape covering Anna Sergeyev’s mouth. He pulled at it gently, her lips stuck, but she did not have enough facial hair to make the process too uncomfortable. He said nothing, decided to leave Dina Sergeyev sleeping as he walked through to the open-plan kitchen and fetched a glass of water for the woman.

She watched him as he returned. He held the glass to her lips and she sucked some of the water off the top.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She pulled away from the glass having slaked her thirst. “You are going to kill us…” she said quietly.

“Your husband didn’t go for it,” he said. “I gave him the chance, but he barely considered it.”

“You expected him to?”

“Of course.”

“Then you know nothing of the Russian mafia. The brotherhood.”

“So, it would seem,” he said.

“Stupid man,” she said, her accent a mix of thick Russian, guttural, with a hint of American. A woman who had grown used to watching and listening to popular culture, but couldn’t quite shake off the motherland.

“Who? Him or me?”

“Both.”

“Fair enough.”

“Bastard.”

“Me?”

“Him,” she snapped. “How much did he ask about us?”

King shrugged. “Nothing.”

“He sacrificed us?”

“In fairness, he was set on torturing me to death to find you.”

“How far did he get?”

“He made a start,” King said. “Drove me out to the forest, told me to dig my own grave.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, when she opened them again, her eyes were moist. “How did he die?” she paused. “How did you kill my husband? My daughter’s father?”

“It was quick and painless,” King lied, thinking of the man’s exploded liver and that dark, unmistakable blood. He wasn’t feeling unhappy about it. He hadn’t been a good man. He felt something for the woman in front of him, the child asleep in the easy chair. “He was a big boy and he was playing big boys’ games. He died by big boys’ rules.”

“How will you do it,” she asked. “How will you kill us both? My daughter is sleeping…” she said, her voice catching in her throat. Tears had formed in her eyes. “You could do it now… while she’s asleep,” she paused. Her brow was perspiring suddenly, her face pale and her breathing more rapid. “Oh, God, no…” she said urgently, as if changing her mind in an event she had no choice over. “I don’t want to die…”

King looked at her, took out his knife and opened the blade. “You fucking Russians are hardcore,” he said. “My car is a hire car. I took it under an alias, so knock yourself out.” He bent down and sliced through the bindings. She pulled her hands away and rubbed her wrists. “I have no way of knowing what will happen with your husband out of the chain, but a powerplay will put both you and your daughter at risk. Can you get to any money?”

“Enough,” she said. “Enough to disappear and live well.”

“That sounds good enough,” said King. “This place is taken for two weeks. You can stay here, make your plans and be invisible. There are shops in the village for food and clothes, nobody will disturb you here. You’ll be just another tourist.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “But why?”

“Why, what?”

“Well, why let us go?” she rubbed her face, then took the glass of water off the table and drank most of it in a few large mouthfuls.

“You were leverage, nothing more. I’m sorry I scared you,” he paused. “And your daughter too. I was desperate.”

“Why?” she asked, seemingly interested, though she was sad. King suspected not so much by the death of her husband, but his willingness to sacrifice them to save face.

“Someone is holding my girlfriend, my fiancé. They want me to perform certain tasks. Killing your husband was one of them.”

She stared at him. “Well, you stand to get her back then,” she paused. “You win, my husband loses.”

“And so do you. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll survive. Possibly longer now that he’s dead. There have been many attempts recently, many betrayals. He has driven to those woods many times. He was scared. So, if not you, then somebody else. Somebody even more ruthless. Perhaps you have saved me, my daughter too.”

“I hope so. It wasn’t my plan, but perhaps some good can come from it.” He folded the knife, slipped it back into his pocket and tossed her the keys to the hired BMW. “Your husband seemed to know the woman behind his death, the woman holding my fiancé.”

“Her name?” Anna peeled the remainder of the duct tape from her wrists, slipped the keys into her pocket.

“Helena…”

“Milankovitch…” she interrupted.

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But your fiancé is as good as dead.”

10

 

“I thought you were going to slot them both.”

King looked at Rashid as he drove. “Really?”

“Well, you’re pretty hardcore.”

“Says the man who just took down the Bratva Mafia.”

“Needs must,” he paused. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

King shrugged. “That sort of thing isn’t my style.”

“Complaining?”

“No, you tit. Collateral damage.”

“Not yet, at least.”

“Meaning?”

Rashid negotiated the slip road and accelerated to join the D817. “I just don’t think you’ll stop at anything to get Caroline back.”