[James Ryker 01.0] The Red Cobra

by Rob Sinclair

  High up in the Sierra, the location was a remote and unusual position, and Ryker couldn’t fathom why Inspector Cardo had chosen to stay there.

  It was ten a.m. when Ryker arrived and already the temperature was steadily rising towards thirty degrees with another unblemished blue sky above. There were three marked police cars in the hotel’s car park. Ryker also spotted Green’s car. He parked next to it. As Ryker stepped from his Ford, he saw the detective approaching.

  ‘Ah, sleeping beauty,’ Green said. ‘Glad you could join us.’

  Ryker said nothing.

  ‘This is not good, Ryker,’ Green said. ‘Not good at all.’

  ‘What is this place?’

  Green stopped walking. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why was Cardo staying up here?’ Ryker looked out over the landscape down to the coast. The morning sun cast a warm orange glow over the hills and valleys that were dotted with white villas and small villages, and swathes of pine, orange and lemon trees. ‘I mean it’s picturesque, but it’s the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at,’ Green said. ‘It’s hardly the most relevant detail to be concerned about right now.’

  ‘So you don’t know the answer is what you’re saying.’

  ‘No, I don’t know the answer.’

  ‘So it might yet be relevant.’

  ‘Could be. Probably isn’t. This way,’ Green said, turning.

  Ryker followed Green through the car park and past the hotel building. The smell of freshly cooked meat and vegetables came and went as they walked by the kitchen for the hotel’s bar and restaurant. Whatever was on the day’s menu, it smelled amazing. Perhaps that was why Cardo had chosen the place.

  They walked by Cardo’s car. A police officer was standing next to it. The driver’s door was open. Ryker glanced inside as he and Green headed to where a low metal barrier separated the car park from a wilderness of rock and pine trees that dropped into the valley below.

  As Ryker approached the edge, he saw a gaggle of uniformed policemen plus a team of forensics – dressed head to toe in white coveralls – gathering around a small white tent about thirty feet below. Ryker looked down at the scene, then around at the car park. At Cardo’s car.

  ‘He was pushed over the edge?’ Ryker asked.

  ‘I don’t think he was going for an early morning hike,’ Green replied.

  Ryker noticed the blood spatters on the tarmac, leading from the car to the barrier. ‘He was attacked up here.’

  ‘Well done, Einstein. Let’s go and take a look. Before you burn out your little detective brain.’

  Ryker didn’t react to Green’s taunt. He was too busy thinking. Green stepped over the barrier and then cautiously scrambled down the rocks to the tent. Ryker followed, noticing that a few of the policemen had turned their suspicious eyes onto him.

  When they reached the scene, Green introduced Ryker to the policemen, but Ryker took little notice. He moved over to the tent and lifted the flap to peer inside. He didn’t flinch as he stared down at the twisted and bloody form of Inspector Cardo.

  The body was pressed up against the stump of a tree. From the outside, Ryker had seen that beyond was an almost sheer drop at least another fifty feet. One of Cardo’s legs was bent awkwardly underneath him, clearly snapped. An arm too looked like it was dislocated. The fall down the rocks had caused quite some damage.

  But it hadn’t killed him. No, it was a knife that killed him.

  Cardo’s lifeless body was fully clothed but each of the three stab wounds he’d suffered were noticeable from the small rips in his shirt and the patches of thick blood around them. Two wounds were in his chest. One in his side.

  ‘I don't know if he was alive or dead when he was pushed over the edge,’ Green said, from behind Ryker, ‘but those wounds would have killed him either way.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ryker said without turning to face Green. ‘That was the intention. Anything of interest found on him?’

  ‘His phone. Wallet. ID. Car keys were on his driver’s seat.’

  ‘Anything else in the car?

  ‘Nothing that stands out.’

  ‘His room?’

  ‘We haven’t got there yet. An officer is outside making sure it’s not touched.’

  ‘Let’s go then,’ Ryker said, turning around.

  ‘That’s it? You’re done down here?’

  ‘What else can we do here? He’s dead. And we just said how it happened.’

  ‘Did we? Perhaps take a step back for my benefit then. What exactly happened here?’

  Ryker stopped and turned to face Green. ‘Cardo was going to his car. The killer grabbed him before he got in, probably taking him by surprise from behind. The three stab wounds were delivered in quick succession. The two to the chest first, each intended to puncture a lung. Two attempts to make doubly sure. There’s a lot of bone around there. Two lungs, two attempts. The third in the side was a kidney strike. Enough on its own to be fatal.’

  Green nodded, apparently impressed with Ryker’s words. Or maybe just his confidence.

  ‘Why in that order?’ Green asked.

  ‘The knife was left in the third time. To limit blood loss. You catch the renal artery and blood leaks everywhere. Leaving the knife in helped to counter that. But it also made Cardo easier to move.’

  ‘You think he was still conscious at that point?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Either way, the knife in the side gave the killer some leverage to pull him along. The stab wounds were chosen deliberately, fatal blows that wouldn’t draw much blood immediately. The killer could have slit his throat and let him bleed out by the car.’

  ‘But there is still blood on the ground. That’s how he was found.’

  ‘I know. Unavoidable when you’re stabbing someone. The wounds were intended to be fatal but also relatively clean, to prevent mess on the killer’s clothes. The attack was out in the open, in daylight, in a hotel car park. It needed to be quick, clean. A few blood spots is fine. Blood spraying here there and everywhere, not so much.’

  ‘So what was the point in throwing Cardo over the edge then?’

  ‘Simply to make our job more difficult. Through bad luck or judgment, the body got stuck on that tree stump. Otherwise he’d have been nearly a hundred feet down that ravine. We’d have had a hell of a time getting down to him, if the body had been spotted at all. Good for us. Bad for the killer.’

  ‘Yet the blood trail was there and the door to his car was wide open. Pretty obvious he was around here somewhere.’

  ‘The body catching on the tree stump was a mistake. It sent her off track. Once she’d killed him and dumped the body, she chose to get the hell away rather than attempt to clean anything up. She’s good. And ballsy too, attacking someone – a policeman – in the open like that. But clearly she’s a bit out of practice.’

  Green raised an eyebrow. ‘She? So you know who did this?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure, yeah.’

  ‘That old friend of yours? The Red Cobra.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Why Cardo?’

  ‘Good question. Let’s go to his room.’

  Ryker and Green hauled themselves back up the rocks to the car park.

  By the time they reached the top, Ryker’s hands were scraped and aching, covered in thick dust, as were his clothes. Green had fared similarly and looked less than impressed.

  They each dusted themselves down as best they could then headed over to the hotel.

  They entered through the main entrance. Ryker turned round to Green who indicated he should keep going. They reached a staircase and walked up to the first floor where the hotel’s few rooms were located.

  ‘Room five,’ Green said.

  Ryker had already guessed that. There was after all only one room with a uniformed police officer idling outside. The officer stood straight and held his ground when he saw Ryker and Green approaching. Green pushed in front of Ryker and did the talking ne
cessary to get the two men inside. The policeman glared at Ryker as he stepped into the room. It seemed everyone could sense he was the outsider. Not one of them.

  Cardo’s room was basic. The floor was covered in red terracotta tiles. There was a rickety old wardrobe and a mismatched set of drawers with an old portable TV on top. On the opposite side was a single bed and accompanying table and lamp. The room was clean, the bed made up. No sign of Cardo’s belongings anywhere.

  ‘He was already staying here?’ Ryker asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And he hadn’t checked out?’

  ‘No. Put these on.’ Green handed Ryker some blue plastic gloves.

  Ryker pulled on the gloves, then explored. ‘Was this guy anal or did he just not own anything?’

  ‘Anal,’ was Green’s response as he walked into the bathroom.

  Ryker opened the wardrobe door to reveal two suits and two shirts, pressed and hung. Underneath was a spare pair of shiny black leather shoes. Ryker left the doors open and went to the drawers, pulled each of them open. All he found were neatly folded black boxer shorts and socks. He moved back to the wardrobe and searched inside the small case that was next to the shoes. Empty. Next he went through the pockets of the suit jackets and trousers. He found a mobile phone.

  ‘You said Cardo had a phone on him?’ Ryker said as he took the phone out of the pocket and looked it over.

  ‘Yeah,’ Green said, coming out of the bathroom. ‘Why?’

  Ryker held the phone up for Green to see.

  ‘Don’t open it,’ Green said. ‘That needs to be bagged up. Searched properly.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’ Ryker tossed the phone over to Green, who caught it, then Ryker carried on his search. This time he found what he was looking for. He took out the folded piece of paper from Cardo’s suit pocket. ‘Come here.’

  ‘What is it?’ Green asked.

  Ryker unfolded the paper and stared at the red-inked words and the symbol underneath. The message was simple; I’m coming. He held the paper out for Green to see.

  ‘Shit. So it really was her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Cardo knew she was after him?’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t know what it meant. Or didn’t believe it was real. Either way, he never said a word. More fool him.’

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’

  ‘I’m not sure. But I know a man who might.’

  ‘Walker.’

  ‘We need to speak to him.’

  ‘But Munroe–’

  ‘Screw Munroe,’ Ryker said. ‘This time I’m not taking no for an answer.’

  Green opened his mouth to speak then stopped when Ryker’s phone vibrated. Ryker took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. He didn’t recognise the number. The country code was Spain.

  ‘Hello,’ Ryker answered with suspicion in his tone.

  ‘It’s Eva. Eva Kozlov,’ came the smooth voice down the crackly line.

  ‘This is a surprise.’

  ‘I need to see you.’

  ‘And why’s that?’

  ‘There’s something you need to know. About Inspector Cardo.’

  Ryker only thought about the proposition for a couple of seconds. ‘Tell me where.’

  31

  Eight years earlier

  The Red Cobra walked up the steel stairs of the apartment block, her backpack tight on her shoulders. Her footfalls were barely audible, even in the thick black boots she was wearing, and despite the rickety stairs she was treading on. Moving with caution and stealth was second nature. Her breathing quickened as she assuredly ascended, though it was well within control. She was taking it easy. Always better to take your time, leave something in reserve. Just in case.

  When she reached the top floor, the Red Cobra pushed open the thick metal door and exited the stairwell into the hallway. The apartments of the building – a post-war block that was in some need of modernisation – were largely occupied. Its central location in the heart of Berlin meant it remained a popular building despite its current state, particularly for early twenty-somethings with little money.

  The Red Cobra approached the door to apartment 1515. With her gloved hand, she reached into a pocket and drew out a key, turned it in the lock, then pushed open the door. She would leave the tight-fitting leather gloves on as long as she was inside the apartment. No point leaving evidence.

  It was dark inside. She didn’t turn on the lights, just carefully closed the door behind her. The studio had two windows to the outside world. Through them, the Red Cobra could see the glittering orange lights of the Berlin skyline, broken up by large patches of black from the nearby Tiergarten – Berlin’s largest inner city park.

  The Red Cobra slid the backpack off her shoulders and moved through the bare space to the right-hand window. She kneeled onto the floor and unzipped the main pouch of the backpack. She took out a granola bar. She’d not had breakfast and she didn’t plan to eat again for a number of hours and felt like she needed the energy. Gently, she tore off the end and pulled the bar out of the packet, being careful not to break off any crumbs. Then she stuffed the empty packet in her jeans pocket before pushing the whole bar in her mouth. Cheeks bulging, she chewed.

  When she was finished, she rummaged in the backpack, pulled out a water bottle, and took a swig before setting it down on the floor. Next she took out a tripod and her spotting scope. She propped the tripod in place, attached the scope, then got her sights aligned and focused on the building rising tall into the sky two hundred yards away – the Waldorf Astoria hotel.

  She found the windows of the suite she was looking for and took a few seconds to make sure she was happy with the focus. The curtains in the hotel room were closed, and the lights were off. It was six a.m. and the target was still in bed. This was the third morning the Red Cobra had been here and she was beginning to notice a routine in the target’s movements.

  The Red Cobra reached into the backpack to retrieve the digital camera and the coupler that enabled her to attach the camera lens to the eyepiece of the scope.

  When the device was set up and ready to go, she sat and waited.

  Sunrise came an hour later. The Red Cobra was awake and alert. Another hour had passed when she noticed the faintest twitch of a curtain. She turned on the camera and hit the red record button. The target’s wife opened the bedroom curtains first, then a minute later in the large lounge area.

  During her two previous visits to the studio, the Red Cobra had gathered more than thirty hours of recordings that she’d transmitted over the internet to her employer. So far there had been nothing notable in the recordings she’d taken, but this was what she’d been asked to do. She knew little of whom the target was, she didn't much care. She was certain that before long her orders would change. After all, operating a digital camera and scope was hardly her main skill-set.

  Three more hours passed. The target and his wife showered and dressed – he in a smart grey business suit, her in tight-fitting jeans and a blouse. Then they ate a belated breakfast in the room.

  Not long after that the target’s assistant arrived together with the usual small entourage. Then the target and his crew left, leaving the wife to her own devices. She too eventually left, on her own. Perhaps another shopping trip to the nearby designer stores, the same as yesterday.

  About twenty minutes after that, the door to the suite opened again and in walked the assistant. He wasn’t alone. Two men were with him. The Red Cobra didn’t recognise either. Her attention was grabbed. The two men, one dressed smartly, the other casually, roamed through the room. Searching, checking. The Red Cobra knew what they were looking for. Threats. Bugs.

  The men spent the best part of half an hour scouring the suite. Then the casually dressed man came up to the window and peered outside across the Berlin cityscape. At first he looked down, then across to the left, past where the Red Cobra was stationed.

  Then he turned his gaze straight ahead. He stared across at the R
ed Cobra.

  She pulled away from the camera and looked straight out of the window. Two hundred yards. She could make out the windows of the target’s suite at that distance but no detail of what lay beyond. She could barely even make out the figure of the man, even though she knew he was there.

  He couldn’t have spotted her, surely?

  She focused back on the small screen on the camera. ‘Shit.’

  The man had a pair of binoculars up to his face.

  The Red Cobra threw herself to the floor and pulled the tripod on top of her. It crashed down and the camera went scuttling across the floor, the little red recording light still on. She lay there, still, for five minutes, thinking.

  When she finally moved, she stayed low. She crawled across the floor, pulling one of the legs of the tripod with her. She grabbed the camera along the way and continued moving until she was up against the door of the apartment, as far from the window as she could get – some twenty feet. She could only hope there was enough shadow in the apartment and glare on the windows to keep her presence obscured, if the watcher was even still there and had eyes on her windows.

  Either way, she had to know.

  As low to the ground as she could get, she lifted the scope and peered into the eyepiece. She adjusted the focus slightly. It had been knocked out of position when she’d pulled over the tripod. When it was properly adjusted she stared over to the Waldorf hotel and the suite of the target once more. The assistant was still there. Sat in an armchair.

  The other two men were gone.

  The Red Cobra only took a few seconds to decide what to do. The risk was simply too big. She needed to get in touch with her employer, ask what was happening. And what they wanted her to do next. First, though, she had to get out of there.

  32

  Less than a minute later, the Red Cobra was descending the stairs, her bulging backpack over her slender shoulders once more, a baseball cap pulled down firmly on her head.