The Alex King Series A BATEMAN (summer reading list txt) 📖

is Simon Mereweather, and I’m director of operations in MI5.”

“Head shed.”

Mereweather smiled and nodded. “I suppose,” he said, picking up his coffee. “I’m joint deputy director. MI5, or the Security Service to use its proper title, has a director and two deputies. One deputy oversees administration, while the other oversees operations. That is what I do. And that is why I want to talk to you about Alex King.”

“Like I said, I don’t know anybody called King.”

Mereweather shrugged. “When I said, no charges will be brought against you, I meant that is if I had your cooperation. Without that, then Special Branch can have you, and the rifle you were bringing in, and Christ knows what else they can get to stick to you.”

“You going to charge me for the coffee too?”

“Please, take this seriously, Rashid,” Mereweather said plaintively. “I need to find King. I need to help him get our agent back. You are aware that Caroline Darby, an agent with MI5 and also King’s fiancé, was abducted by a suspect in an operation the two of them were investigating?” He looked at him, studied his eyes carefully as he let the silence envelope them. “Of course, you are. I can see you’re in a quandary. Well, Captain. I can smooth over the heavy mob at Hereford, give you a cover story, black-ops stuff. They’ll welcome you back, get you off that desk you’re riding, put you back in the field. If you don’t go shagging the nineteen-year-old daughters of commanding officers, that is.”

Rashid smiled. “I still don’t know this King bloke.”

“Yes, yes. All very admirable.” He opened the file in front of him. “Good shot, are we? Must be to be in the SAS.” He took out a series of photographs. They were of a body and a crime scene. “Your handiwork?” He pushed the photographs towards Rashid.

Rashid looked at the photographs. He recognised the body, had seen it through the scope of his sniper rifle about a month ago. He looked up and shrugged. “No.”

“I don’t want a confession, Rashid. Just hear me out. Okay?”

“Not going anywhere, by the looks of it.”

“You’re friends with King. You met on separate operations that merged. You kept in contact, or whatever. Perhaps you bonded in the brief time your paths crossed. I don’t know. But I do know that your bond was strong enough for you to take out a sniper for King during his last operation. There’s enough CCTV in London. Don’t play me for a fool. As it is, nobody is looking for the killer of a killer. The case is never going to be solved, because nobody is looking into it. It’s been black-bagged. End of. The only thing that will open up that particular can of worms is if pictures of a serving SAS officer linking him to the killing of a man on a London rooftop find their way into the public domain.”

Rashid looked at Mereweather. “And you think threatening me will get you my cooperation?”

“I don’t have time for appealing to your better nature,” Mereweather said, his tone clipped and harsh. “Or rather, my agent, my friend even, doesn’t have time. Caroline Darby has been abducted. To get her back requires more than playing into her captor’s hands. King has gone on a self-destructive mission to get her back. He is singing to their tune. He is doing what they require of him, and hoping he finds an in. A way to get close to them. It only takes one mistake, one run of bad luck, and King is dead and Caroline is gone forever. I’m not prepared to take that risk. Not for her.”

“You’re sweet on her?” Rashid smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t let our mutual friend know about that.”

“I like her. She’s a long-time colleague, and now comes under my command…”

“Whatever,” Rashid shrugged. “Not my business.”

“I can get you out of here, Rashid. I can get you out of here, paint a picture of your shenanigans in France as a black-ops mission for MI5 to the regiment, even keep a lid on what you did in London. But I need your help in return.”

“I’m not selling out King,” he paused. “Firstly, because he’s my friend. Secondly… well, he isn’t the sort of man you sell out. You may want to remember that.”

“It’s nothing to do with selling him out. It’s a contingency. And it’s a second prong attack. King is haring around trying to buy some time while he gets a handle on this, and it’s quite possible the man will slip up. I want to search for Caroline, use what we’ve found so far to get to Helena.”

“Helena?”

“Christ, you don’t know a thing, do you,” Mereweather paused and sipped some coffee. “Look, agree to help me. Agree to help find Caroline, and in turn, help King. Let’s agree that King is not infallible. Let’s agree that he needs help with this.”

Rashid nodded. “I can see where you’re coming from,” he said. “But right now, I’m still under arrest and AWOL from base. You can really make all of that go away?”

“Like it never happened.”

“Well, let’s talk some more,” Rashid said. “But I want to see you pull a few strings first. When I’ve seen that, I’ll listen to what you’ve got to say.”

20

 

Tuscany, Italy

 

The vineyard was expansive. It surrounded three sides of the mansion’s gardens and took up an area of what King estimated to be four football pitches. The rear of the mansion was laid to lawns and gardens, dominated by an elaborately constructed swimming pool that was all swirls and nooks and fountains, with barely an area for proper swimming. A place where drinks could be taken, and conversations whispered, and groups of people could disperse into couples.

There were two children playing in the pool. Even