Читать книгу Any Means Necessary - Shane Britten - Страница 5

Slumped in the hotel shower, I sighed. It was a far messier job that I was used to with plenty of opportunity for compromise. Proper reconnaissance would have shown the second man to be present, and perhaps sign of a dog as well. Yet it wasn’t more caution that I reflected on, but less. If I had acted on the first visit, the girl would still be alive. Even if I couldn’t make it look like an accident or suicide, the exposure would have at least saved a life.

My reflection ended at the same time as my shower. Drying off, I shrugged on a hotel robe and looked over the muted TV’s news headlines. No mention of a fat greaseball self-asphyxiating or a man being killed by a girl he had beaten so badly she’d subsequently died. Thankfully, no mention either of a suited assassin who had killed two criminals in the heart of the capital, rescuing six girls and a dog.

I gave another sigh and leaned into the low-backed lounge chair in my hotel room. A glance at the side table showed a crystal decanter full of an amber fluid, a crystal glass and a hand-written card next to the decanter: ‘Valen Tyler, with compliments, Philip.’ I couldn’t help but shake my head. Old dogs, new tricks – I had been trying to build Philip’s security awareness and attention to details like the use of our names when not required for some time now. Apparently unsuccessfully.

I poured the liquid into the glass, the strong smell catching my nostrils and removing any trace of annoyance. A healthy sip of the liquid and the accompanying burn proved what I suspected: William Larue Weller bourbon. A silent glass-raise to Philip, forgiving his indiscretion for the cost of a rare, superb bourbon that happened to be well and truly my favourite. It was a beautiful, smooth taste that lingered on my tongue.

I replayed the conversation with Philip in my mind, looking for things I may have missed at first. The head of ASIO’s son and the Prime Minister’s daughter embroiled in, using Philip’s words, some manner of NERE group. His serious focus was characteristic of the political scheming and manoeuvring that had shaped his career. But to what end?

We would be very exposed, far more than ever before. There would be a good reason for it, I had no doubt. My faith in Philip and his motives had been built over almost five years of working with the old man and he had never put me in a situation I couldn’t handle or that wasn’t worth the risk. But most of our cases were selected with due consideration of how publicly exposed we would be, avoiding cases that made headlines, had extensive police involvement or were under investigation by the country’s various investigative agencies.

I pushed aside the small seed of doubt with another sip of exquisite, expensive bourbon. I glanced at the case on the other end of the lounge. Not yet. If I opened it, sleep would vanish as surely as the remainder of the bottle.

I stretched, standing up with a tired groan befitting someone 20 years my senior, twisting a bit to see how much damage had been done to my side and back. Bruises, but nothing that wouldn’t soon heal. I played with the air-conditioning dial until a satisfying 16 degrees Celsius and full fan was displayed, my preferred sleeping temperature. I checked the double safety lock on the door, grabbing the wedge that served as a door stop and jamming it under the inside of the door to prevent it from being opened. I normally slept with a pistol next to the bed but I hadn’t taken it on the job, so as I climbed into bed, I put the taser on the bedside table and crawled between the sheets.