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

“Just rewind a moment,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

She stepped forward and put her arms around him, rested her chin on his shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

“And you can see that Amanda Cunningham said all that in there both to undermine me, and to drive a wedge between the two of us?”

“Yes,” she said, she hugged him close. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” King said. He smiled, bent down and kissed her. A loving kiss on her lips, but not passionate or a prelude to anything more. “But I’m going to find out. Some bitch you’ve just met says I’m a shit investigator and you have me down for retirement already?” He pulled away from her and opened the door.

“Where are you going?”

King smiled. “The Director General’s office. I guess we shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”

42

King opened the door to Amherst’s office without knocking. He led the way, nodded to the director as he sat down. Caroline took her seat, looked at the director and nodded a thank you.

“Well?” Amherst prompted King.

“I think I have him suitably rattled,” said King.

“Well, we need him more than rattled,” Amherst said. “It’s going to take more than a pair of jeans and a text rescheduling a meeting.”

Caroline frowned. She leaned forwards, was relieved to see both Ramsay and Mereweather wearing similar expressions. “Sir?” she asked, then glanced at King. “What’s going on?”

“Alex and I met two weeks ago. He’s been working on something for me, reporting directly to me. He has been investigating Sir Ian Snell’s background. He discovered that Helena Snell’s cousin was not the man guarding her. That man has been living on the coast of the Black Sea, living it up in the many casinos and brothels. He came up in an ongoing MI6 investigation. When it was noted he seemed to be in two places at once, and MI5 were performing security background checks on Ian Snell’s employees, including Ivan Kerchenko, our friends across the Thames gave us a head’s up. Naturally, Kerchenko was a person of interest.”

Ramsay coughed. “Sir, is this to do with the gunman at King’s cottage?”

“Yes,” Amherst nodded. “Fill them in, will you?”

Ramsay nodded. “We have a positive identification on the gunman at King’s cottage. Director Amherst told me not to divulge that information during this morning’s meeting. The man in question was Ivan Kerchenko. Helena Snell’s cousin. We received the information this morning, from the Russian FSB. They want to extend us every courtesy after the incident last year near GCHQ.”

Caroline frowned. “So, Sir, what you said about the Russians not cooperating was…”

“A lie, yes,” Amherst said. “This is the Security Service, Agent Darby, do keep up,” he flashed her a rare smile, but it faded just as quickly. He looked up at Mereweather. “Anything on this chap who attacked King on the train?”

Mereweather shook his head. “DNA would suggest Russian or Eurasian extraction. But he’s a clean-skin. Nothing on any databases.”

“Unusual,” King said. “He looked the type to have form, at least. But the fact he was Russian and the fact that Ivan Kerchenko attacked me not five miles away, across country at least, from where his cousin’s husband was shot that same day, ties Helena Snell into this by association. Kerchenko was a former Spetsnaz operative. As was Viktor Bukov. Viktor Bukov is sleeping with Helena Snell. That’s a hell of a connection right there. But the attack happened before Amanda Cunningham and I went back to Sir Ian Snell’s property. Somebody wanted me stopped before it came to that. They wanted me off the investigation before it had begun.”

Caroline nodded. “So, what is this about?” she asked, looking back at Amherst. “Why were you keeping the Home Secretary out of this?”

King looked at her. He could see she had a different expression to that of a few minutes ago in the briefing room. She had all but given up on him then, now she seemed ready to hang on his every word. He was a little relieved. “I think the five were a rouse. I think that that three of the world’s wealthiest people on that list were sacrificed. I think Sir Ian Snell was the only legitimate target, and I think the last person on the list will be shot to cover their tracks. Anarchy to Recreate Society’s manifesto was a smokescreen, designed to hide the one person they wanted dead. And in doing so, public opinion of the super-rich dehumanised the people on that list, legitimised them as collateral damage in a war on wealth. So much money has been given away, helped so many causes, that nobody really cares that a few of the outlandish mega-rich have been killed,” he paused. “The list was bogus. If you analyse the rich lists, many of the rankings change weekly. Three of Silicon Valley’s tech giants and two social-media gurus never even featured on Anarchy’s list; no doubt because they give away millions and run education and reform programs. Snell was shoehorned onto the list because of various investments. A list of the rich should be taken on net worth alone.”

“So, what about the Home Secretary?” asked Caroline. “Where does he figure in this?”

“Sir Hugo Hollandrake and Sir Ian Snell were at university together. That’s common knowledge.” Amherst rested his elbows on the desk and steeped his fingers. “I doubt they were even friends, but nobody seems to know for sure. But what we have uncovered, is that the Home Secretary, invested heavily in Snell’s ventures soon after he went into politics. He continued to invest for the next three decades. These investments were well hidden, and it first came to our attention through an Inland Revenue investigation. He covered his tracks well, so did Snell, but there is evidence that Hollandrake is a silent, or rather,