Читать книгу The Rebel: The new crime thriller that will have you gripped in 2018 - Jaime Raven, Jaime Raven - Страница 22

He was on his second pint when Danny called him on his mobile.

‘I’m sorry for the delay, boss. The plane got stuck in a holding pattern over the airport for ages. Then we had to contend with the bloody rush hour.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘I’m just checking her into the hotel. What about you?’

‘I’m in the pub. Arrived about half an hour ago.’

‘Great. We should be there in ten minutes.’

It was why that particular hotel had been chosen. It needed to be within walking distance of the pub.

‘What about the second text message?’ Slack said. ‘Did it get sent?’

‘It did. I had confirmation a few minutes ago.’

The second message had been Danny’s idea. He’d come up with it late last night as a way of raising the fear factor even before the killings began. It was sent to those people close to the detectives whose phone numbers they’d been able to obtain.

‘Just so you know, boss, I’ve not had a chance to talk to Jack about the gear,’ Danny said.

‘Don’t worry. He’s taken delivery of everything and it’s all out the back.’

Jack Pickering was the pub landlord and he worked for Slack who owned the building. There was a yard at the rear with a lock-up garage that the firm made extensive use of. It was the perfect place to store the stuff that Rosa Lopez needed to do her job.

After hanging up, Slack sipped at his beer and looked out the window. The evening rush hour was over, but in this part of Lambeth the roads were still busy.

It had taken them almost an hour to get here from Dulwich – a distance of about four miles. On the way he’d told Mike to drive past the house where Terry Malone had lived and died.

It had made him feel sad and yet pleased with himself at the same time. Sad because of what had happened to Terry and pleased because he’d been able to avenge his untimely death.

He didn’t give a toss about that gun-toting copper or his family. The bastard determined his own fate when he shot a defenceless Terry in cold blood.

Just six months ago Slack wouldn’t have cared. He’d never met Terry and had no idea that he’d worked for the Romanians in North London before the gang’s leaders were snared by the task force.

But then, out of the blue, he got a call from an old girlfriend who was in Guy’s Hospital having suffered a severe stroke.

Chloe Malone had begged him to visit her, saying she had something important to tell him. So he’d gone along out of curiosity and she’d revealed that just after they’d split up twenty-six years ago she’d discovered she was pregnant. Eight months later she gave birth to a boy.

‘He’s your son, Roy,’ she’d told him. ‘I want you to know now because there have been serious complications and I might have only days to live. And Terry needs someone to look out for him, otherwise he’ll end up dead or in jail.’

She’d gone on to say that she didn’t tell him about the baby because their relationship had ended badly after he decided to dump her for another woman.

‘It would never have worked out,’ she’d said. ‘You would have wanted the baby but not me. I was sure that you would have made my life a misery or even taken steps to get rid of me.’

To say that he’d been shocked would have been a gross understatement. The revelation had shaken him to the core. He was angry with her even though he knew that what she’d said was true.

Their affair had lasted five months. It was fun but he’d never loved her and when someone better came along he dropped her like a hot brick.

Before he left the hospital she gave him a letter she’d written to Terry in which she disclosed that Slack was his father.

‘I’m not going to tell him before I die,’ she’d said. ‘That wouldn’t be fair, if you decide that you want nothing to do with him. But if you do want to be part of his life then show him the letter.’

Three days later she passed away and for weeks afterwards he wasn’t sure what to do or whether or not to even believe her.

So he made enquiries, found out that Terry was looking for work, and got the lads to recruit him onto the firm. Then he took steps to secretly obtain samples of his DNA, which confirmed what Chloe had said.

That was when it really hit home that he had a son. The effect on him was profound. Julie had never been able to conceive and he had always wanted a child.

So he came to a decision. He would promote the lad within the firm and get to know him. And then when he felt the time was right he would drop the bombshell and show him Chloe’s letter.

After that he would groom Terry to be his successor. The idea pleased and excited him, and suddenly he had a purpose in life other than making money.

But then something happened that changed everything and that was why he confided in Terry that night in the club.

He gave him the letter from his mother and told him that he wanted him to eventually take charge of the firm. And he told him why his plan had been brought forward.

Naturally the lad reacted as though he’d received a jolt of electricity. But Slack had assured him that he had what it took and that it was meant to be.

‘So go home and think about it, son,’ he’d said. ‘Your mother asked me to look out for you and that’s exactly what I plan to do. You and my grandchild will have a bright and prosperous future. And you’ll want for nothing.’

They were the last words he said to Terry. Hours later the lad was dead.

Rosa Lopez was not what he was expecting. The eyes of everyone in the saloon bar were drawn towards her as she came in ahead of Danny who held the door open for her.

Slack felt the urge to whistle as she walked towards where he was sitting in an alcove next to the window.

She was disarmingly attractive, with thick, lustrous black hair and naturally olive skin. Her face was smooth and narrow, and she moved with the sinewy grace of a catwalk model.

She had on a smart leather jacket with a fleece lining that looked brand new and probably was. It was open at the front and underneath she was wearing torn jeans and a tight brown sweater.

She was slim but endowed in all the right places, and it struck him that she was so unlike any of the contract killers he had ever come across.

Rosa Lopez was stunning, and he reckoned she probably stood out even among the beautiful sicarias in Latin America. He found it strange that someone so young and beautiful could be a sadistic killer. He wondered if she had been born a psychopath or whether events in her life had turned her into one.

As she approached, he held out his hand and introduced himself. She smiled and it lit up her face, but there was something unconvincing about it.

‘Welcome to London,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Not too much I hope,’ she replied.

She spoke perfect English with only the faintest trace of an accent.

‘Please take a seat,’ he said. ‘Danny will get the drinks in.’

‘Just an orange juice for me,’ she said, sitting down opposite him without removing her coat. ‘I never touch alcohol when I’m on an assignment.’

‘Very sensible of you,’ Slack said.

As Danny went off to the bar, Slack studied the woman who had come all the way from Mexico. Her eyes were the colour of dark chocolate and there was no emotion in them. In fact they quite unnerved him.

‘How was the journey?’ he asked.

‘Very pleasant. But then it usually is when one travels first class.’

‘And is the hotel to your liking?’

She shrugged. ‘Not really. It’s cheap and cheerful, but that’s OK because I understand it was chosen for its location. And anyway I’m not here on vacation.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Slack said. ‘And can I take it that your boss made you aware of how unusual this job is?’

‘It’s not that unusual, Mr Slack. I’ve taken out plenty of police officers over the years. Once I killed three in a single day and in different locations. I’m not in the least bit intimidated by the scale of this assignment.’

Slack was impressed. He could see now why Carlos Cruz had sent her and why she was so highly rated. She had the one essential attribute of all successful contract killers; she was not troubled by the conventional standards of morality.

Danny came back to the table with their drinks and Slack was struck by a jarring thought. To the other customers they no doubt looked like normal people, friends enjoying an evening out. But in reality they were the opposite of normal. Between them they had carried out scores of abhorrent crimes and were planning to commit many more.

Rosa suggested they steer clear of small talk and get straight down to business. So Slack told her about the organised crime task force and the text messages that had been sent to the detectives and their immediate family members.

Rosa raised her brow. ‘And do you really think that killing some detectives will stop the rest of them coming after you?’

He grinned. ‘Not at all. But that’s not why I’m doing it. This is just the opening salvo in a war I’ve declared against London’s police. I want to start by making them think it’s just about the task force. That’ll confuse and unsettle them before the real fun begins.’

At this point he took a mobile phone and a buff-coloured envelope from his pocket and handed them to her.

‘It’s an unregistered phone and you can use it to contact me and Danny,’ he said. ‘Our numbers have been programmed in and we have your number. The envelope contains the list of targets. Names, addresses and contact details of the detectives and their loved ones. There’s also a link to a website on which we’ve uploaded photographs of all the officers and many of the family members.’

‘Where did the information come from?’ Rosa asked.

‘There’s someone on the task force who’s working for us.’

Rosa picked up the envelope, folded it and slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket along with the phone.

‘The stuff you requested is in the lock-up garage at the rear of these premises,’ he said. ‘It’s in a secure position and you’ll be given a key to access it when you need to. When you’ve finished your drink we’ll show it to you. Now have you got any questions?’

She drank some of her juice, then wet her upper lip with her tongue.

‘I’ve got two questions,’ she said. ‘I’d like to know how long you expect me to stay and how many people you want me to kill.’

Slack leaned towards her. ‘Under the deal with your boss I have you for two weeks. I’d like you to carry out the hits at a rate of one a day, although I do appreciate that it might not be possible. And, if I’m not otherwise disposed, I might well ask Cruz to extend the contract. It all depends how much fun I’m having.’

The garage behind the pub was set back from the road. Danny unlocked it and raised the door, and Slack and Rosa followed him inside.

In front of them was a motorbike with leathers and a helmet on the seat. Saddlebags were attached either side of the seat.

‘We were told only that you wanted two wheels,’ Danny said. ‘Is this thing OK?’

She looked it over and nodded. ‘It looks perfectly fine.’

‘Good. There’s a bunch of fake stick-on number plates in the left-side saddlebag. Change them as often as you need to avoid street traffic cameras.’

On the table to the right of it there was an iPad, a takedown sniper rifle in an open briefcase, a pistol with silencer attached, a large knife, a garrotte with plastic handles, and five mobile phones.

‘These are all burner phones so you can dump them after you use them,’ Slack said. ‘It means you don’t have to use the phone I’ve already given you. The iPad has been set up so you’re ready to go online.’

Rosa stepped forward and ran her hands over the weapons.

‘You’ve been very thorough,’ she said.

‘That’s because like you we’re pros,’ Slack told her.

Danny then handed her the key to the garage. It was attached to a plastic keyring that enclosed a photo of the pub’s exterior and the words: Three Crowns, Vauxhall. They then stepped outside, and Rosa locked up.

‘Would you like another drink?’ Slack asked her.

She shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I need to go back to the hotel to start planning. And since this is my first time in London I have to get my bearings.’

‘Well, if there’s anything else you need you only have to ask.’

‘There is something I need to know,’ she said. ‘Do you want to be the one who decides who I target and when? Or are you leaving that to me?’

‘That’s your call, Rosa,’ he said. ‘You have the names and plenty of information on all of them. The only thing I ask is that you don’t hang around.’

‘No problem,’ she said. ‘All being well I’ll start tomorrow.’