Hunter Killer - Alex King Series 12 (2021) A BATEMAN (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📖

remained unchecked and while he was moving, he knew there were simply too many tactically superior vantage points from which he could be viewed. He backtracked, broke left, and ran down the side of the area, pounding at a sprint until he worked his way around the unfenced compound. Around two-hundred metres later, his heart pounding and lungs heaving with the effort of breathing the cold air, King saw a rusted and broken tractor abandoned next to a single shipping container. He slowed to a walk, checking the open ground and when he reached the machine, he climbed up onto the fragile bonnet and precariously used it as a mounting block to pull himself up onto the top of the container. King rested on his stomach and surveyed the area. He saw the figure in an instant, lying prone and aiming the rifle in the direction of the Toyota, its bonnet only in view to them, the shooter waiting for some movement. A patient man, but ultimately too patient. And then, as if he read King’s thoughts, he turned and stared right at King, uncomfortable that he had waited too long and that his quarry may try to flank him.

King fired the pistol. Not to realistically hit the man, but to put him under duress and stop him from getting the crosshairs of the rifle scope on him. He watched the bullets spark on top of the container, adjusted his aim, and sent another two bullets near enough to the man for him to flinch and recoil. King pocketed the pistol, reached for the rifle strapped on his shoulder, but realised that with the bulky clothing he was too slow and clumsy in his efforts, especially when up against a man whose kit was all laid out in front of him. He watched the man roll with well-practised grace, hugging the rifle close to his chest. When he had changed position, the rifle came out and up to the man’s shoulder ready to aim and fire in an instant. King still did not have the rifle off his shoulder, so he dodged left and saw the muzzle flash of the rifle and the roar of the gunshot followed almost at once. He could see the man adjusting his aim, and he turned and leapt off the container, feeling the force of the bullet in his back and the sound of the gunshot reverberate through the containers as he fell. He landed heavily, his back on fire and curiously, a feeling of numbness filling him inside like icy water. He tried to move, but his head felt ready to explode, and his eyes started to close. He knew he was checking out, and his last thoughts were not of Caroline, nor of Jane, but that he was genuinely shocked that luck and fate had cashed in their chips. He had always won, always survived. But then he guessed that everybody else did, too.

Right up until they didn’t.

Chapter Eleven

Dorset, England

She had moved the cross trainer into the lounge, butting it right up against the window so that she could look out towards the sea as she built on her physio routine. She missed their home in Cornwall, having taken a year’s let on the cottage in Dorset while she rehabilitated, and they both re-evaluated. The Cornish property had been repaired and recently sold; too much had happened there to consider staying. They had made a little money on it and moved on. And now that she had time to reflect, she doubted their lives would ever reach a point where solid roots could grow. The risks were simply always going to be too great. The fact made her sad, but conversely it had made her realise that there was more to life, and that escaping the country with their yacht pipe-dream may be a step closer and not actually a pipe-dream at all.

She was up to fifteen-minutes, twice a day on a light setting with the cross trainer. The movement not only helped with her cardiovascular system, but with her  back, legs, and arms, which had all suffered from fractures, breaks and contusions. Not only did she have to rebuild wasted muscle and increase flexibility, but she needed to mend mentally, and for that she needed to be able to control her body once more and get back to full strength.

Outside, walkers were heading for the steep, crumbling cliffs of the Jurassic Coast and the horseshoe bay below. Caroline had earlier attempted to walk the cliffs but had tried too soon. King had bought her the cross trainer and she now felt close to attempting another hike, but it was far too early to venture outside without the pair of crutches. She yearned to get outside and feel normal again, but now with King on assignment, everything felt far from normal.

Caroline watched the black Jaguar saloon pull into the side of the road and felt a pang of anxiety wash through her stomach, her heart beating faster in a few seconds than it had for ten-minutes on the cross trainer. She stopped pumping her arms and legs, stepped off the machine and felt her legs wobble, not through the exercise or pain, but because of what could now unfold. King had the luck of the devil, but she knew deep down that luck couldn’t last forever. She wiped the perspiration from her face and watched as Ramsay stepped out of the passenger seat. Big Dave remained behind the wheel and she felt the anxiety grow further. She couldn’t wait for Ramsay to make his way up the pathway and steps, and headed out to meet him halfway. Taking a deep breath and wiping a tear from her eye, she opened the door and looked at Ramsay expectantly. Holding herself against the wall and keeping the weight off her right leg.

“Caroline…” Ramsay said, surprised at the ambush.

“Is it Alex?” she managed to say,