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

relishing the ride. He wished things could be different but couldn’t see how he could change the facts. He didn’t doubt Caroline’s love for him, but he could see a dramatic shift in focus. He never drank much alcohol as a rule, but he had found himself accepting it more and more of late. The Courvoisier in Amherst’s office had dulled the ache, and normally he would never have accepted the offer, and tonight he was well towards the end of his second beer and thinking about a third. He had ordered a couple of vodkas on the plane, too. It wasn’t much by most people’s standards, but it was out of character.

King picked up the map and laid the acetate on top. He could see that his contact had been thorough. The next marking showed the spot where the MI6 handler’s body had been found. Nothing else. Simply three points on a map to aid his investigation. He had no contact methods for the person who had provided him with his car and equipment. No way of using them to further his investigation and mission. He would need to find out more about the second defector if he were to chaperone them back to Britain. Technically, once the defector got clear of Russia, then Finland and Norway were safe zones. The Russians ignored the borders regularly, operated throughout Scandinavia, but there were places with a good infrastructure for a Russian specialist with a secret to hide out safely. But they valued Britain for both what they would make of their wares, and the life it could give them. Which meant that what they had would benefit a world power more than a quiet Nordic country with a pleasant way of life.

King wasn’t happy with the arrangements. If he needed more from the MI6 liaison officer and he could not contact them, then he would undoubtedly be contacted himself. And that put King at a disadvantage. He liked to call the shots; not look forever over his shoulder and be a step behind. However, he did not need help looking into the MI6 handler’s death. He could do that with the Finnish police officer. The female sheriff of a frozen town on a lake famed for a witch.

8

 

King nodded a greeting to the waitress, who ticked him off a sheet and showed him to an occupied table. She asked whether he would like English breakfast tea or coffee, and he thought about the milk last night and asked for a black coffee. He looked at the woman seated at his table. Having ditched the snow suit and now dressed in a tight-fitting silk blouse and jeans, Lena Mäkinen did not look like a fourteen stone power lifter. He never really suspected she would, but it had been fun guessing. She was slim in a sporty, outdoorsy way. Small-busted, with toned arms and a flat stomach, she looked like she ran a lot. Or perhaps skied. Running wasn’t a pursuit to be practised this far into the Arctic Circle.

She smiled up at him, stood up and held out her hand. “I thought I’d join you for breakfast,” she said as King clasped her hand and shook it warmly. “I hope you don’t mind?”

King shook his head. He could make out a distinctive perfume over the aroma of her steaming cup of coffee. He was surprised at himself, feeling a mild attraction towards her. “Why would I mind?” he asked. “You don’t look dressed for a trip across the lake.”

She shrugged. “We’ll go and see the body first,” she said. “Then get changed and head out to where he was found. I have to warn you though; it is an arduous journey.”

King nodded. “How far?”

“One hundred kilometres. That’s tough on a snowmobile.”

“Tougher on skis,” he said casually. “I’ll be okay.”

The waitress came with King’s black coffee and took their orders. Lena chose porridge with cloudberries while King chose smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and potato pancakes. He ate some rye bread with unsalted butter while they waited and spooned some sugar into the coffee.

“So, what does the Home Office do?” she asked.

King had decided to be vague and not go into his Security Service status. “My department provides security for the government,” he said.

She nodded. “What was Mister Fitzpatrick doing this far north?”

“He was a nature lover,” King lied. “I gather he was up here to see the Northern Lights.”

She nodded. “Did you see them last night?”

King felt foolish. He’d forgotten to look outside his window. “No.”

“They will be better tonight. A clearer sky,” she said. “They are quite captivating.”

“I can imagine.”

Their breakfast orders arrived, and King could already see the salmon was different to anything he’d eaten before. It was flaky and covered with lemon and dill. It looked like cooked fish, as opposed to the bright red, gelatinous texture he was used to. He tried some with a little of the egg.

“Good?”

“Delicious,” he said and meant it.

“I find it interesting that you are not a police officer.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

King shrugged. “Just protocol.”

“We have the internet,” she said. “Even this far north.”

“Can’t escape progress.”

“Or common sense.”

“Meaning?”

“It is easy to search,” she said flatly. “If a British citizen is murdered, in extraneous circumstances, then Scotland Yard may get involved in a supervisory or financial capacity. Like that little girl in Portugal, or the missing boy on one of the Greek islands. But Finland has a competent police service. We are more than capable of dealing with our own crime scenes.”

“I have no doubt,” King agreed noncommittally. He ate some of the potato pancakes. They were a little like a blini and worked well with the scrambled eggs. “I can see a point where we’ll just be going around in circles,” he said. “You’re an intelligent woman…”

“Police officer,”