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

“I know, Alex told me all about you. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally? What, after two days?” Caroline frowned.

“He talked a lot,” she said. “Over dinner.” She turned to King, then looked at Director Amherst. “I’ll stand by my findings. Sir Ian Snell was killed by a massive head trauma from a gunshot wound. You are hunting a sniper. That is the MO from the previous three killings. American software giant William Hoffman killed in California by a point-fifty bullet through ballistic glass, at a range of one-thousand metres. American social media guru Steve Gaits killed in Paris by a seven-point-six-two at five-hundred-metres. British television and media mogul Max Blackwell killed in Liverpool by a point-three-three-eight, and I can confirm, the same point-three-three-eight that killed Sir Ian Snell in Cornwall.”

“Why the change in calibres?” Ramsey asked.

After it was clear nobody had a satisfactory answer, King said, “Tool’s for the task. The fifty used to kill Hoffman needed to punch through ballistic glass. Hoffman’s ranch had a long approach and his security detail would be able to see anyone getting near. The one-thousand metre range was on the cusp of the point-fifty punching through the glass, but the sniper would have known this. The seven-point-six-two was good for five-hundred metres and easily obtainable in France. Nobody heard the shot, so the rifle would have been suppressed. That calibre works well with a suppressor.” He reached and picked up his cup, took a sip of tea and held the cup on his thigh. “The sniper has a three-three-eight in this country. He’s used it twice already. He’ll carry on using it here.”

“Why?” asked Amherst.

“Practicality,” said King. “Guns are heavily controlled and licenced in the UK. This won’t be legally owned, most likely stolen. If you’re a member of a suitable range, have experience and pass the criteria, you can own calibres of this power, or more. The rifle will be bolt-action operated, not semi-auto. And unless they have a licence with the relevant ammunition authorised, then the ammunition will have been stolen too.”

“Okay, thank you,” Amherst nodded. “Tell me, why do you feel the need to doubt the pathologist assigned to this investigation, Agent King?”

Sir Hugo Hollandrake turned and stared at King. “Yes, do tell. I would love to know why a man of your…” He looked King up and down distastefully. “… stature, feels he can disregard the work of an esteemed pathologist.”

Caroline touched King’s arm and stared at him. She whispered, “Are you sure about this, darling?”

King looked back at Sir Hugo Hollandrake and to Amherst in turn. “I was sent down to look at the crime scene because of my experience.”

“You barely found your way around the crime scene!” Amanda interrupted. “You were a rank amateur, didn’t know what questions to ask. I had to guide you, prompt you even.”

“Is this true?” Amherst asked incredulously.

“Yes!” blurted Amanda.

“Director Amherst, I feel you may not have your best team investigating this matter. Either that, or MI5 isn’t best placed to continue with this.” Hollandrake shook his head. “The police have plenty of senior detectives who could do this.”

Simon Mereweather held up his hand. “I’m sorry, Home Secretary, but I chose to send King down to investigate. That decision was on me. And I still stand by that. Alex has invaluable experience that nobody else in this room has. He has spent years in the field and done more for his country than we should ask of anybody. The sniper skills demonstrated by these people have been remarkable. Shots fired, and people killed at tremendous distances, and I assumed when I looked at the property on Google Maps, that this would be no different. Sir Ian Snell’s nearest neighbour was over two-thousand metres away and the ground looked open with little cover for a gunman to get near their target. I assumed this was a massively long shot and thought King would be able to contribute his expertise.”

“It’s fine, Simon. You suggested King and I concurred,” Amherst said gruffly. “So, let’s have it.” He looked back at King, who seemed unperturbed, sipping from his cup. Then he glanced at Amanda Cunningham as he said, “Without further interruption?”

Unperturbed, King shrugged. “As I said to Ms Cunningham, it was a long shot and on the cusp of what a point-three-three-eight can achieve. But I later found two missed attempts. Two bullets in the wall. My first instinct was that it would have been too noticeable. Snell would have heard the sonic wave and the bullet strikes. If the weapon wasn’t sound moderated with a suppressor, then he would certainly have heard these two shots from across the valley.”

“Even from so far away?” asked Hollandrake.

“Especially so. Because of the valley and the echo that it would generate,” King answered. “When we returned to the property the next morning…”

“Who?” Amherst interrupted.

“Ms Cunningham and myself. We discovered Snell’s wife in bed with her bodyguard.”

“No crime there,” Amherst said dismissively. “Morally reprehensible, but not a crime.”

“Viktor Bukov is Helena Snell’s bodyguard, but he is posing as her cousin, Ivan Kerchenko. That’s the name he’s working under. We don’t know where Kerchenko is.”

“So, Snell’s wife is having an affair, is in bed with her lover just hours after her husband’s death,” mused Amherst. “Nothing tangible. What do you make of King’s theory of multiple shots, Ms Cunningham?”

“It’s not a theory. The bullets were there.”

“But only one shell casing at the house the shot was taken from,” Amherst said, looking at a sheet of paper in front of him. King assumed it was Amanda’s report. “Why leave a shell casing at the house, if they took three shots?”

“Snell was killed by a gunshot. Anarchy to Recreate Society murdered him, as they said they would,” Amanda said emphatically. She was flushed, and King noticed her hands were shaking, causing