The Alex King Series by A BATEMAN (free ebook reader for ipad TXT) 📕

“Wow!” she exclaimed, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it. “Have you seen them play, live, I mean?”

“I have,” he said proudly. “But not at Old Trafford.”

“My brother could set you up with a box. You and some friends. He does all sorts of corporate events with the club. PR work for his company. Other companies like the link, their managers enjoy a good box event with a free bar.”

Michael nodded. “I would like that…” he trailed off. “I have to go now,” he said.

“You said there were others here,” Caroline ventured. “Other women like me?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not like you.” He backed away and caught hold of the door.

Caroline watched him leave. There was a moment when she thought she had blown it, but now she felt confident she had successfully formed a human link.

26

There was enough pandemonium to escape the property through the vineyard, but not without coming under fire from the guards. But as King had reckoned when he had first envisioned and formulated his plan, they were not of the standard of the Russians. Luca’s men were comfortable. They were renowned through historical acts, a ruthless reputation. But there was a difference between tough and sadistic men outnumbering individuals and businesses, and highly trained ex-military recruited into the Russian brotherhoods. And this is what King had seen at their meeting in the mountain town. Not only a higher degree of professionalism, but the Russians were on foreign soil and would undoubtedly be ill at ease.

King hadn’t underestimated the Italians, but he had used them. He had reached the edge of the vineyard and the plateau carved out of the mountainside. He was now into the trees and traversing the steep gradient. The ground was uneven, loose and dotted with giant boulders that he had to dodge around. He had thrown the radio handset behind him, and as he crouched low behind a thick pine tree to get his breath and bearings, he ejected the magazine of the Uzi and checked. He was down to two rounds. He thumbed them out and checked the breach of the Uzi. It was an original design Uzi, in that it fired off an open breach bolt. There was therefore no chambered round in the weapon. He dumped it down on the ground and pocketed the rounds. He took the pistol he had captured out of his waistband and checked it over. It was a Beretta APX in .40 calibre. He had never used one before but looked over the features and the trigger safety and decided it was similar in design and working function to a Glock. He checked the ten-round magazine and the weapon’s chamber, then stood back up and checked the ground behind him. There was nobody on his tail yet, but he wasn’t about to give them time to get organised and brave. He stripped off the suit jacket, and then tore off the ridiculous gold chains and tucked the bundle between a tree stump and a boulder which looked to have felled the tree in a landslide at some time. He wedged the Uzi and its magazine in there as well. Then, he started to take the slope, gaining in speed and agility as he grew used to the ground and momentum. He was carrying a lot of speed and ended up charging through one of the huge tarantula webs. He shook his head and brushed himself off the best he could as he ran, slid and leapt across the terrain. He tried not to think about the giant eight-legged creatures as he ran.

He was hot and soaked in sweat, but he reached the first mountain road, hopped the barrier and ran across the tarmac, clearing the second barrier and dropping six-feet to the slope below. He lost his footing and sprawled. He slid and rolled and came to a halt some thirty-feet later. He was cut and would certainly bruise, but he checked himself hastily and was lucky to have not broken anything. He had lost the pistol. He looked quickly, but the weapon had been electro-coated with olive-coloured paint and he did not hold out much hope finding it in a hurry in this environment. He still had the large sheath knife and the flick knife in his pocket, but he left them where they were, not wanting to chance another fall. The gun would not fire unless he pulled the trigger - and he wouldn’t do that because his finger was nowhere near a trigger until he needed to fire – but he wouldn’t want to fall with a sharp blade in his hand.

He knew he was clear, but he just hoped they would not gather, regroup and anticipate his escape. He needed to get to his car and get away as fast as he could. Right now, he imagined they were in a state of shock. But Luca Fortez was a man who had risen in his world by acting fast and striking hard. King knew that both his appearance and questions, the way he had asked them, would point them towards the Russians. But had he done enough? Would they fall for it? He thought they would. Was banking on it. But it was how they would react that would matter. He doubted the Italians would simply go round for a cappuccino and work things out. This was their turf and their boss had been hit. His family terrified. Their colleagues injured, some killed. They were red-blooded, hot-headed men and they would go after the Russians with everything they had.

King just hoped it would be enough.

27

London

“Is that halal beef, then?”

“Couldn’t give a shit, mate,” Rashid spoke as he chewed through a mouthful of his cheeseburger. “Why do you feel you can comment on my religious practices?”

Ramsay seemed taken aback. He