by Rob Sinclair
Logan sat next to her. ‘Fair enough. But do you really want to risk everything for a lowlife like Gazinsky?’
‘You are?’
‘No. There’s more at stake than just him. The man we’re after is the man you’re working for. Potanin.’
The Red Cobra remained silent. Logan certainly knew far more about her than she knew of him. She had to admit that worried her. Her choices of next step were becoming fewer by the second. One of those options was killing Logan there, in the street. Not a bad option in many respects, she mused. At least it would give her a chance to get away and regroup.
But what then? She’d only create more problems for herself, add unneeded enemies to the list. And she was intrigued as to why Logan was speaking to her like this. Did he really not see her as a threat?
‘Potanin? Never heard the name,’ she said.
‘That’s a lie. You’ve heard the name. Whether or not you actually knew that was who you were working for is a different question. I’m not an idiot. I know how these things work. Clients, brokers, middlemen, drop boxes.’
‘I said I’ve never heard of him before.’
‘So it’s a him now?’
‘An assumption.’
‘No. A lie. Let me ask you this. Do you trust Potanin?’
‘I don’t trust anyone.’
‘A good mantra to live by. But you can stop pretending now. I found your messages to him.’
She looked over at Logan and caught the glimmer of a smile. It pissed her off.
‘Last night,’ he said. ‘You were asleep. I was bored.’
‘My computer?’ she said, thoughts crashing through her mind. ‘I don’t think so. I checked it this morning.’
‘Checked what? Did you know you can download an entire hard drive without even having to turn a computer on? It’s called imaging. You make a replica. Easy if you know how.’
‘I’m not dumb. I know how it works.’
‘Good. Then you’ll also know we can piece together deleted data, as long as it’s not already been overwritten on the drive.’
‘Depends if you have the right drive.’
Logan laughed. ‘Well, yes. So when you use messaging that’s routed through a server in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it does cause a slight problem. But then again, there’s a solution to every problem. And we had the resources to crack this one. The data on your hard drive told us where you’d been at least – the web addresses you’d visited. A deleted internet cache isn’t too difficult to piece together. Then it took a bit more work to find the server those messages were sent through, and retrieve them.’
She let the words sink in. She knew what he was saying was true. Plausible in theory at least. But had he and whoever he worked for really managed to do all that in just a few hours? For starters he would have needed equipment to do the initial imaging, and he certainly hadn’t been lugging anything with him at the bar. Then she felt her cheeks flush at the thought that a third person might have been in the room stealing her data while she lay naked in the bed.
But even if that was the answer, surely they couldn’t have reviewed and pieced together everything on her computer in such a short space of time? And how would they have identified the host server, accessed it and retrieved the encrypted messages so quickly, never mind deciphered them and linked the user account to Potanin?
She didn’t buy it. Logan knew about Potanin from another source. It was the only answer. His words were aimed at belittling her and making her feel like she’d made mistakes.
Not that his bullshit made her position any less precarious. He still knew far more about her and her job than she was comfortable with.
‘Did you know Potanin’s with the SVR?’ Logan asked.
‘No.’
‘Does that bother you?’
‘No,’ she lied. In reality she hated anyone who was loyal to Moscow. After what they’d done to her father, that would never change. ‘He’s paying me. That’s what matters.’
‘Last night you said something different.’
‘Maybe I did.’
‘Okay, let me lay my cards on the table. I don’t want to hurt you, Anna. I don’t know why, but I don’t think you deserve it. You’ve got yourself caught up in a situation that’s much bigger than you imagined. This isn’t one rich man killing off a rival. This is governments waging dirty wars against each other. And every person in that war is nothing more than a pawn. We’re all expendable. Especially you.’
‘And you?’
‘Yes. Me too.’
‘Then why don’t you run too?’
‘I’m not asking you to run.’
‘If I turn my back on this job, on Potanin, that would be my only choice.’
‘No it wouldn’t. You could stand and fight.’
‘Stand with you?’
‘Yes. Forget about Gazinsky. He’s just a gateway to take us onto bigger things. We’ll go after Potanin together.’
‘And then?’
‘And then you've got nothing to worry about. I’d say it’s the only way for you to come out of this without a pack hunting you down.’
When he put it like that, she could see the path she had to take: the path of least resistance. Neither Gazinsky nor Potanin meant anything to her. Self-preservation was more important.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll help you.’
CHAPTER 37
Present day
Ryker made his way along twisting country roads towards the location Eva had given him. She said she had information on Cardo. Ryker had to find out what that was.
The inspector’s death was a shock, no doubt about it, not just because of how he had been killed but why. Ryker was increasingly coming to the conclusion that Kozlov was involved with the Russian mafia. Or was it the Georgian mafia? And Walker, too, had perhaps become embroiled in the criminal underworld, whether wittingly or through coercion. Was Cardo part of it too? If so, that was potentially a big worry for Ryker. If the mob’s reach stretched that far into the police then he wasn’t sure exactly whom he could trust.
And that certainly included Eva, whom he was about to meet. He could only prepare himself for the worst, expect that she was about to set him up.
The biggest question still was: how did everything link back to the Red Cobra? Why had she killed Cardo? Why did she want to kill Walker?
Ryker called Winter as he drove.
‘Inspector Cardo was murdered,’ Ryker said when the commander answered the call.
‘I heard.’
‘I thought you didn’t know what was happening out here?’
‘I don’t. But the murder of a policeman connected to your investigation is the sort of thing that gets tongues wagging.’
‘What did you find on Kozlov?’
‘Not much. Clean record. He’s not on any watch lists.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve seen too much out here already for Kozlov to be squeaky clean. You’ve got the wife of his business partner murdered. The henchmen sent after me at that construction site. His daughter’s babysitter is a Vor from Georgia–’
‘Georgia? You don’t think–’
‘Maybe. Somehow this all links to the Red Cobra. One way or another, everything’s leading me to think the mafia are involved in this mess.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Absolutely. Russian, Georgian, both, I’m not sure. But if they have the ear of not just the local but national police too, then it’s not a big stretch to figure why Kozlov has never been under suspicion.’
‘Okay. I’ll keep digging into him, see if I can find a connection to any known criminal gangs operating in Andalusia. Russian, Georgian, the rest.’
‘I’m off to meet his daughter now.’
‘His daughter?’ Winter asked, a hint of knowing in his voice.
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Of course not. You’re shacked up these days, right?’
‘Right.’ Ryker couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt toward Lisa who he’d again missed a call from earlier.
‘Did you get the package?’
‘Yes. Thanks.’ Ryker moved his hand down to the bulge on his waistband where the Colt M1911 semi-automatic pistol was stashed. Winter had come up trumps organising the drop so quickly – Ryker had only had to make a short detour to pick up the weapon, together with three magazines of ammunition. The gun was an old model, probably as old as Ryker, but in good condition nonetheless.
‘Just go easy with that. I’m not giving you carte blanche to go all Rambo out there. That weapon is for life and death situations. Nothing else. You get yourself in trouble with the locals because you couldn’t keep your pistol in your pants, then it’s up to me and no one else as to whether or not we get you out of jail again.’
Ryker understood Winter’s warning. Even if he’d still been an official JIA agent, the situation would have been much the same. One of the main purposes of the JIA’s set-up being secretive was so they could easily disavow all knowledge of an agent’s operation should it go pear-shaped and should they feel the need.
‘Have I made myself clear, Ryker?’
Ryker gritted his teeth at Winter’s forthright tone. ‘Yeah. I get it.’
‘Good. I’ll let you know if I find anything on Kozlov.’
‘Thanks.’
Ryker ended the call. He made a point of calling Lisa but she didn’t answer. He left a brief voice message assuring her he was okay.
An hour later, he turned his car off the road into a small park on the outskirts of the town of Ronda. He continued along the yellow-gravelled path and parked his car under the canopy of the many carob trees.
Even though he’d had the air conditioning on full blast the whole way, the shade from the fierce sun was still a welcome relief. Ryker had travelled inland to reach Ronda and the temperature had risen every few miles as he left behind the cooling sea breeze. The thermometer on the car dashboard was reading thirty-nine Celsius. When Ryker opened his door and felt the blast of super-heated air against his skin it took him a couple of seconds to adjust.
But thoughts of the debilitating conditions were soon at the back of his mind when he spotted Eva just ten yards away, hanging off the rear-end of a black SUV that was no longer shining but covered in yellow dust from its journey from Marbella.
She wore a tight-fitting summer dress, the same designer sunglasses as the previous day, and a large sunhat that shaded her head and shoulders. She strode up to Ryker, her hips swaying seductively. Ryker remained unimpressed with what he saw. Eva was a trickster, her look designed to tempt and deceive. Ryker wouldn’t fall for it, no matter how hard she kept trying.
‘You alone?’ Ryker asked. ‘No chaperone today.’
‘I’m alone right now.’
Ryker noted the ambiguity in the answer. There was no sign of Sergei or anyone else. But he wouldn’t trust that she’d really come out here by herself.
‘What’s this about?’
Eva smiled. ‘This way. I want to show you something.’
They walked side by side across the park. Coming out of the treeline, Ryker squinted as the sun hit his skin. Soon they came upon a black metal railing beyond which was a sheer drop down a cliff-face to the valley below.
‘It’s incredible isn’t it,’ Eva said. ‘You can see why this place was settled, with views like that.’
‘Yep,’ Ryker said, without feeling.
Privately, he admitted that the vista across the valley and beyond was spectacular. From their prominent perch, they had an unobstructed view over miles of farms and olive groves that trailed into the distance, enclosed by sweeping hills and mountains. The whole landscape was scorched yellow and orange from the unrelenting sun.
‘It was Celts who first put a town here,’ Eva said as they began walking again. ‘Maybe your ancestors.’
‘Maybe.’
‘They didn’t last long though. The Romans soon took over. Then the Suebi, then Visigoths. Finally the Arabs conquered it. This town has incredible history. Such a clash of cultures over the centuries.’
Ryker was finding it hard to read Eva. He was sure she wasn’t simply all about seducing men – she was too intelligent and complex for that. But quite what her true agenda was with him, he didn’t know. She seemed to flip so suddenly from sultry to sweet, from chatty to withheld.
‘Why are we here?’ Ryker said, starting to sound as irritated as he felt.
‘You’ll see.’
They walked on in silence, passing through streets, until they came to an old stone bridge spanning a deep gorge that cut the town in half. The two sides of the town were perched dramatically on the edges of the canyon, and it looked as though the buildings could crumble into the abyss at any second.
Ryker peered over the side of the bridge as they crossed, down into the depths below. The spiked rocks lining the canyons walls – which stretched down at least a hundred yards – made it feel like he was staring into the wide open mouth of a gigantic monster.
‘The El Tajo canyon,’ Eva said.
‘Impressive,’ Ryker couldn’t help but say.
‘Ernest Hemingway wrote about this town.’ When Eva got no response from Ryker she added, ‘You’ve heard of him, yeah?’
‘I’ve heard of him.’
‘There’s a scene in one of his books where the town’s people throw fascist sympathisers off a cliff to their deaths. Many believe it relates to actual events he saw in Ronda at the time.’
Ryker knew the book well. For Whom the Bell Tolls. As he looked downwards he could well imagine the horror of the people who had been so ruthlessly hauled over the side.
‘Did you bring me here for a history lesson?’ Ryker asked.
‘No. But I thought you might be interested. I told you before: I’m passionate about this region. I like to share my passion.’
‘Okay. Let’s stop the games now. You said you wanted to talk about Inspector Cardo. He’s dead, you know.’
Eva tutted. ‘Yes. I heard.’ Eva appeared to be finding it hard to keep eye contact with Ryker.
‘So let me ask you this. Do you know why he was killed?’
Without any word of response, the glint Ryker saw in Eva’s eyes told him the answer.
CHAPTER 38
Eva remained tight-lipped as they carried on their walk. Ryker was becoming more suspicious of her intentions by the second, but he was also intrigued to see what would unfold. Was she really about to reach out to him about what she knew of Inspector Cardo’s murder? Ryker hoped so. It wasn’t unthinkable that Eva was caught up in a murky and dangerous world simply because of who her father was, and that she was looking for a way out.
But it was equally likely that Eva was simply leading Ryker straight into an ambush.
One thing he knew for sure: he was glad he was now armed.
They came to a stop outside a back entrance to the town’s bullring.
‘Bullfighting?’ Ryker asked. ‘Let me guess, you want me to experience some more culture.’
‘There’s no bullfighting at this time of day. It’s too hot. But I do want to show you around. Maybe you could stop being such an arsehole?’
She really was a piece of work. Here he was in the midst of a murder investigation that was very likely in some way linked to her family, and she wanted to chat about the history of Andalusia.
‘Whatever you think my father is involved in, that’s not me,’ Eva said, her tone harder. ‘It’s really not. I didn’t ask for any of it.’
‘Maybe not. But if you really want to help, you can stop playing games and tell me what you know.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Why not.’
‘Don’t you think there are consequences?’
‘You mean like Cardo?’
Eva stared at Ryker for a few seconds and he saw a sliver of vulnerability in her eyes. Perhaps this escapade really was a cry for help.
The l
ook was gone a moment later when her features quickly softened again. ‘Come on, let me show you around.’
The security guard on the door smiled for Eva then moved to the side to let her and Ryker through. They walked along narrow corridors before coming out into the stands of the theatre itself. Despite Ryker’s scepticism, he felt slightly awestruck as he looked out across the arena. It was every bit what he would expect to see of a gladiator’s amphitheatre from ancient Rome: bright yellow dust bowl in the middle, steep, sweeping terraces all around, with a strutted and tiled roof overhead.
‘See,’ Eva said with a warm smile. ‘I told you it was worth seeing.’
Ryker looked out into the middle of the bullring. Several boys – teenagers – were there, dressed up as matadors in tight-fitting and sequinned outfits. There were also two men. One was barking instructions. The other was standing by what looked like an oversized wooden wheelbarrow with bulls’ horns attached to the end.
‘They’re from the local bullfighting school,’ Eva said, answering Ryker’s unspoken question. He and Eva moved away from the stairwell and took a seat in the shade on the stone bleachers. ‘Usually they train in the school, on the farms. As a special treat every now and then I organise for them to come here and experience what it’s like to be inside the bullring.’
‘You organise it?’
Eva shrugged. ‘My father’s friend owns the bullring now. And more than one of the ranches in the region where the fighting bulls are reared.’
Ryker huffed but didn’t say anything in response.
‘I like to help people,’ Eva said.
It was as though the more times she said it, the more she truly convinced herself of those words.
‘And what about your father? And his friends? They like to help people too?’
‘They do good things. They make a lot of money for this region.’
‘Yeah. In the end it always comes down to money.’
Ryker watched as one of the young matadors moved away from the group. He was taking deep breaths, readying himself for action. The man with the cart moved to one side, giving himself some space from the young man who let down his red cloth that was attached to a long stick. In his other hand was a mock spear.