Whisper For The Reaper by Jack Gatland (best book series to read TXT) 📕

was another alternative; one that he considered as he walked to the bar. The landlord, a young man in his early thirties, was cleaning glasses as Declan approached. Declan knew that the glasses would have been washed en mass in a glass washer under the bar, and that this was more a drying of the glasses, but the traditional imagery wasn’t wasted on him.

‘Declan,’ the man nodded, taking the pint glass he was drying and placing it on the bar. ‘Guinness?’

‘Make it a half, Dave,’ Declan replied, looking around the bar, freezing when he saw Karl Schnitter sitting in the corner, reading a newspaper.

Realising he was staring, Declan looked back to Dave the landlord.

‘You using the function room at the moment?’ he asked casually. ‘I’m looking for a place to have a couple of meetings.’

‘How many meetings?’ Dave poured the Guinness as he spoke. ‘Ongoing usage or a couple of parties?’

‘Police business,’ Declan leaned in, speaking softly. ‘Got a team coming up from London.’

‘Oh aye, is that about the Chinese lad on the golfing green then?’ Dave passed the half pint over and Declan returned a five-pound note across as payment.

‘You know I can’t talk about an active case,’ he replied.

‘Your dad talked about them all the time.’

‘Dad talked about a lot of things that he shouldn’t have.’

‘Your dad was more fun than you, it seems,’ Dave grinned.

‘Maybe I’ll tell you about it when I’m further down the line,’ Declan took a sip of the Guinness and sighed. He wasn’t a drinker, and had avoided alcohol since the night with Kendis, but there was something to be said for a nice pint of Guinness. ‘Maybe you have a meeting room to hand? Just a few days, so anything you’re not using.’

‘We’ve got meeting rooms in the Malthouse, next door,’ Dave suggested. ‘Library’s not being used, it’s smaller than the rest but I’m guessing you won’t be paying corporate rates.’

‘What would I be paying?’ Declan didn’t really want to ask, but Dave thought this over for a moment.

‘If it’s only a couple of days, I’ll let you have it for free, civic duty and all that, on the condition that all food and drink is bought here. No sneaky lunches down at the Rising Sun.’

‘I can do that,’ Declan smiled, shaking Dave’s hand. ‘We’d need it from tomorrow.’

‘That can be arranged,’ Dave leaned closer, so that the other drinkers at the bar couldn’t hear. ‘Do you want me to let the Germans know?’

Declan stared at Dave in confusion for a moment. ‘The Germans?’

‘Well, I’m guessing it’s all connected, considering that they’re in the same business?’

Declan shook his head. ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about.’

‘Ah, so not then,’ Dave tapped his nose. ‘Well then, a word to the wise. Couple of weeks back we had a German couple arrive. Booked an open-ended stay, brother and sister, they claim, took a twin room. In their thirties, he said he was LKA, some sort of German police.’

‘Landeskriminalamt,’ Declan replied. ‘I worked with them twice when I was stationed in Germany. They’re like German CID.’ He looked around the bar. ‘I wonder why they’re here though?’

‘Well, the girl said that they were hunting someone,’ Dave was warming to the role of informant now. ‘Wondered if it was the same thing as you?’

‘Maybe,’ Declan mused. ‘Do me a favour, let me know if they pop in here. I ought to have a word with them, police to police and all that.’

He looked back to the corner of the pub now. Karl was staring up at him, the newspaper now placed on the table in front of him.

‘Give us whatever lager Karl’s drinking these days,’ Declan said, looking back to Dave, who pulled out a bottle of Belgian ale from the fridge, opened it and passed it across with the altered change from the five-pound note.

There wasn’t much.

‘Lucky I didn’t order a pint for myself,’ Declan mused as he put the change away. Dave had already moved on to the next customer, the conspiratorial conversation now over, so Declan took the half pint glass and the bottle over to the corner table.

‘Mind if I?’ he asked. Karl smiled, waving to a seat.

‘Only if that is for me,’ he motioned at the bottle. Declan nodded and passed it across as he sat.

‘I wanted to thank you,’ he started. ‘Again. For trusting me when nobody else did. When I was on the run for terrorism, you were pretty much the only person who helped.’

‘You would have done the same,’ Karl sipped from the bottle, smacking his lips and sighing with pleasure. ‘And I knew you were innocent. I know you. It is difficult to believe someone you have known for decades could be capable of such a thing.’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Declan replied, watching Karl. He couldn’t believe that Karl could be a killer. He’d known him all his life. But at the same time, there were questions that needed to be answered. He must have worn these worries on his face because Karl, noticing Declan’s expression, leaned in.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked. Declan leaned back; not intentionally backing away from Karl, but more so he could take in the man sitting opposite him.

‘Germans,’ he started. ‘I spent a lot of time with them when I was in the Military Police. Mainly helping them arrest pissed squaddies. I always found Germans to be blunt in conversations. Not as comfortable with the fancy language of a more British conversation.’

‘Is this a way of saying that Germans are rude?’

‘Not at all, the opposite in fact. I always found Germans to be refreshing. You can be blunt with them. You don’t need to dance around topics. You can just talk about them.’

‘And what topics are you dancing around now, Detective Walsh?’ Karl’s voice was softer now, the emotion drained out of it. Declan knew he was wary now, not sure where the conversation was going.

‘When I came to you that night, on the run and scared, you took