Outlaws by Matt Rogers (phonics books TXT) 📕

a question, so Donati hadn’t entertained him with a response.

King said, ‘So what exactly did I just prevent?’

‘Does it matter? You’re just going to kill me anyway.’

‘That’s not set in stone.’

‘Isn’t it?’

Donati injected skepticism into his tone, but King saw through the veil. He’d generated hope in the big man. A faint possibility that this might actually be reversible. That his career, reputation and life were all still salvageable.

King said, ‘Give me the truth, and I might let you live.’

Donati thought about it.

Behind King, someone stirred.

He turned to see the recipient of the second liver shot clambering to his feet. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide, but he had his wits about him. The other five were nowhere near coherent. King stepped in, steadied the guy by putting a hand on one of his shoulders, and then used his other fist to thunder an uppercut into the man’s gut.

He went straight back down, whimpering in pain.

King turned back.

Message received.

‘Okay,’ Donati said. ‘Fine. I used the CFO of Zima Group as a cover story because it was front and centre in my mind.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s not in the photo. The guy in the background is just a civilian. There’s no fetish club. But that girl…’

He trailed off.

His cheeks flushed.

It can be shameful to say out loud what you were going to do behind closed doors.

King said, ‘Say it.’

Donati said, ‘The CFO’s the one ultimately calling the shots in the forthcoming negotiations. And there’s a deadline. No matter the personal troubles, Donati Group and Zima Group need to leave these meetings with an inked agreement. It’s written into the contracts. So, I figured, if his daughter had an accident…’

King said, ‘Christ.’

‘Then he’d be pliable. The boardroom would be the last thing on his mind. We could have acquired the terms we wanted without difficulty. He would have signed anything.’

‘You honestly think that’s the way to go about it?’

‘You didn’t ask me for an apology,’ Donati said. ‘You asked me for an explanation.’

‘Jack said you were one of the good guys.’

‘Jack’s naive, then.’

‘Why are you being so upfront? You’ve got to know I’d never take your side on this.’

‘I respect you enough to not waste your time,’ Donati said. ‘That’s what happened. I’m not proud of it. Big business is something incomprehensible to most. It’s a whole different ball game up here.’

‘It doesn’t have to be like that.’

‘It does. That’s the way the game is played. That’s the level I have to stoop to.’

‘No,’ King said. ‘It’s not.’

He didn’t waste words. A lecture would prove pointless. Donati thought it was justified, and that was that. No amount of convincing would change his mind. And, frankly, King was sick of the endless loop he found himself stuck in. Thinking, Maybe this time they’re doing the right thing.

And then getting let down, time after time.

He was sick of it all.

Donati said, ‘Are you sure we can’t reach a compromise? My previous offer is still on the table.’

King stared. ‘Yeah, Sam. I’m sure.’

Silence.

‘Tell me one thing,’ King said.

‘Yeah?’

‘What do you mean by “accident?”’

Quiet.

King said, ‘I’ll know if you’re lying. Trust me.’

Donati said, ‘One of my independent contractors in-country was going to run her over.’

‘With what?’

‘A truck.’

‘How fast?’

‘Fast enough.’

‘Survivable?’

Donati hesitated, but that said it all. He seemed to realise it, too, and the realisation sank home that King could see through to his soul, so he shrugged and said, ‘Most likely not.’

King said, ‘Then you get the same odds.’

He clenched his fists and rounded the desk.

17

Three hours later, an ordinary civilian flight prepared for takeoff at Sheremetyevo International Airport.

King sat in a quiet corner of the boarding gate, a baseball cap pulled down over his features. He’d changed out of the formal attire suitable for someone carrying out Close Personal Protection work, switching to ordinary civilian garb. He’d purchased a size up in both the shirt and pants to mask his abnormal physique. At an initial glance he seemed shapeless, perhaps overweight, but definitely not packed with muscle from head to toe.

One false passport had been switched for another. He’d brought a spare for exactly these sorts of circumstances. Customs hadn’t found it upon entry to Moscow, and Donati hadn’t bothered to frisk him for his own personal reassurance.

Now King was Richard Baker, a self-employed investigative journalist returning home from Moscow after location scout work for an upcoming piece.

Boarding was estimated to begin in fifteen minutes.

That was enough time.

King slipped his personal iPhone from his pocket, giving silent thanks for the encryption procedures installed within the device. The phone had been modified free of charge by Violetta’s tech team, which made its security practically indestructible. He thumbed a familiar contact name and pressed it to his ear.

She answered almost immediately.

She still wasn’t happy.

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘I thought we already settled this,’ King said. ‘Why are you still angry?’

‘You told me exactly what you were going to do, and I didn’t have a say in the matter. You left me to explain to my superiors that out of the two experts they rely on to respond to critical incidents, one is running off to Mexico for a holiday and the other has started taking civilian gigs despite the fact he’s on call twenty-four-seven.’

‘And I remember telling you this was a once-off. Abnormal circumstances. I owe my life to Slater, and he owed a personal favour to an old military contact. Besides, I’m an independent contractor. There’s no exclusivity. There’s nothing in writing that says I can’t do my own thing every now and then.’

‘There’s nothing that says you can, either.’

‘There’s nothing in writing,’ King said. ‘Full stop. Realistically, I can do whatever I please. But I gave you due notice, and now I’m coming back. So relax.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘That’s why I’m calling.’

‘You’ve been in country for less than five hours.’

‘Things went south.’

‘Oh, Jesus. Are you okay?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you need extraction?’

‘No.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Sheremetyevo. I’m using the spare passport.’

‘If the authorities…’

‘My problem isn’t with the authorities. I’m unknown to them.’

She paused to compute. ‘Donati?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How’d it fall apart? Is he hunting you?’

‘He’s