HARD KNOCKS: Charlie Fox book three

by Zoe Sharp

  “So what did you have to do to get him to let you stay, Fox?” he muttered, his voice tight and nasty. “Give the old man a blow job?”

  I should have kept my mouth shut and my head down, I know, but in twenty-four hours Gregor Venko was going to come in here all guns blazing, and if he didn’t get his son back there was going to be a bloodbath. In the light of that I couldn’t find it in me to be diplomatic to the likes of Todd.

  “Why?” I shot back, “Is that how you got him to take you on?”

  The silence arrived along the table on a gasp of surprise that quickly turned to a splutter of astonished amusement.

  “Ah now, Mr Todd,” Declan said almost gently, shaking his head, “but you surely asked for that one.”

  The flush started just above Todd’s shirt collar and rose up past his ears like coloured smoke. He opened his mouth to drench me in vitriol, but the dining hall doors swung open again, and suddenly nobody was paying him any attention.

  Major Gilby walked in, smart and upright. By his shoulder was Sean Meyer.

  I told myself that I’d known Sean was coming. That I was the one who’d told the Major to call him, but the shock of his arrival still hit me like a mental and physical double blow. My brain reeled even as my body reacted, prickling my scalp, tightening my stomach, making my shins itch.

  I could hardly believe it was less than three weeks since we’d sat together in that little country pub in Yorkshire and he’d asked me to go to Germany. It was like none of the events of last year had ever happened and we were back in the army again, with all the baggage that implied.

  It didn’t help that Sean was wearing the old familiar garb, or something so close to it as to be almost indistinguishable. He had on a khaki T-shirt because he never had felt the cold, and neatly pressed camouflage trousers that sat snug around his narrow hips, secured by the same webbing belt.

  He’d even abandoned the expensive Breitling somewhere along the way. Instead he’d retrieved his plain battered old watch with the leather cover that snapped over the face. It was the sight of that watch, more than anything else, which sent a shiver through me.

  I recalled Madeleine telling me that Sean was coming to Germany, but I’d never actually got around to asking her about it. Why would he bring an old watch with him other than because he knew he was likely to be going into combat?

  Now he strolled into the room managing to convey the impression the Major was merely preceding him, rather than that he was following. He allowed his eyes to skate over the occupants with that same old flat scrutiny, the one that had so terrified me back then.

  His gaze passed over me just once. It was cold, indifferent, giving away no hint that he knew me at all, but I couldn’t prevent the stab of remembered fear.

  Even after we’d spent that first breathtaking weekend together, and I’d returned to camp dazed and not a little staggered by the depth of the experience, Sean had not allowed his control to slip, had not changed in his outward behaviour towards me. Most of the time, at any rate.

  Just occasionally, when we were alone together, or out of sight and earshot of anyone else, he’d launched one of those slow-burning smiles at me, or touched my face. I’d found those tiny unexpected gestures, coming after such a rigid adhesion to protocol, quite devastating in their erotic effect.

  And the next time we’d had the opportunity to be together, without fear of interruption or discovery, the release of that long over-wound tension had been both explosive and profound.

  I’d fallen for him utterly, without restraint, so that when he seemingly abandoned me I found I’d kept nothing in reserve to sustain me. Looking back, it was a wonder I survived the ordeal.

  Now, the Major took Sean straight through the middle of us and up onto the dais where the instructors were giving him the same suspicious appraisal as the students. He weathered their inspection with easy contempt. No defiance, just indifference. I know what I am, his attitude said, and I don’t really give a damn what you choose to make of me.

  Gilby turned to face us. By this time he didn’t really need to call for silence, but the impresario in him meant he paused a moment anyway.

  “If I might have your attention for a moment,” he said, needlessly, “I’d like to introduce a new instructor.”

  Sean stood alongside him, hands low on his hips, eyes raking over us as though in search of weakness. The students shifted in their seats and kept their gaze fastened safely on the Major.

  “This is Mr Meyer,” Gilby went on. “Those of you who’ve taken an interest in the close protection world will undoubtedly be aware of his reputation. We’ve been lucky enough to secure his services at short notice to come and join our team for the remainder of this course. I hope you’ll do your best to impress him with the skills you’ve already learned.”

  Gilby was nervous of Sean, I realised with surprise. If not actually afraid of him.

  Sean stepped forwards and nodded briefly to the Major, who relinquished control without a murmur, like we were watching the arrival of a new alpha wolf in the pack.

  “Good afternoon,” Sean said. It was as much of an introduction as he was going to give. “We’ll be picking up your unarmed combat training right away after lunch. You can forget everything you’ve achieved so far because now you’re going to have to prove how good you are all over again.” He paused, looked around the still faces, then added grimly, “The bad news is you’re going to have to prove it to me.”

  I’d heard him speak those words before. Exactly those words.

  I told myself that I’d been through this before, that I knew what to expect, but I found myself unconvinced. The time and distance since the last time did nothing to make me fear the prospect any less.

  ***

  I suspect that most of the students – the ones who hadn’t heard of Sean, at any rate – thought he was much too full of himself. Until we started the lesson, that is.

  For openers Sean set up a free-for-all scenario where he picked Declan as his principal and told the rest of us to try and get to him, any way we liked. It was a walkabout situation, a packed crowd, common enough. The only difference was that instead of just one of us being an assassin or a simple nutcase, all of us were.

  It was a brave gambit, but one I’d seen Sean play before. It was designed to expose the chancers, the ones who thought they’d show what a big man they were by going in hard, aiming for damage. Those with that kind of macho temperament could rarely resist the temptation.

  Sean dealt with all our efforts with the kind of casual grace that was an innate part of him. Nobody came close to grabbing hold of Declan, and after a few minutes the Irishman was grinning at the increasing wildness of our attempts and the apparently careless ease with which they were foiled.

  Where people went in quietly, Sean repulsed them the same way, but where others tried to hurt him he responded with instant violence, a mirror of their own aggression.

  Sex didn’t matter, he made no distinction. When Jan went for a nasty armlock, he flipped the positions and jerked her up short and tight with a painful lock of his own. He held her just long enough for her to recognise that he knew what she’d been trying to do, then released her.

  After fifteen minutes of failure, Sean called a halt.

  “OK, that wasn’t bad,” he said calmly. “But now it’s my turn.”

  A ripple of disquiet ran through the group. It was well justified, as we were soon to discover. For the remainder of the lesson he took on the role of attacker, calling forwards and defeating one after another of the students in their role as bodyguard. He made the small seem weak, the big seem merely clumsy. And he made everybody seem painfully slow.

  By the time the clock above the doorway was within a few minutes of time up he’d gone through just about all of us, except me. I stayed slightly back, grateful for the respite, assuming that Gilby must have warned him about my excursion on the assault course.

  And so, I was totally unprepared for what was to com
e.

  Sean finished evading Hofmann’s overreached defence, turned slowly, and his gaze landed squarely on me.

  “You,” he said. “Charlie, isn’t it? Step forward and let’s see how you get on.”

  No, Sean, I prayed silently, don’t do this to me. But, with limbs that felt leaden, I complied, moving onto the crashmat. He was staring at me with that unfathomable gaze, face set.

  “So, Charlie, I’m a threat to your principal, you’re between the two of us.” He smiled, but I felt no more reassured. He spread his arms, so arrogant that he needed to ready no defence against me. “Come on then,” he taunted. “Come and do your thing. Stop me.”

  For a moment I met Sean’s eyes. Why was he doing this? So I’d spilled the beans to Gilby, but surely if he hadn’t wanted to be here, on the inside, he would have refused to come? What did he have to gain by picking me out like this?

  Sean was so difficult to read accurately at the best of times, but now he was impossible. The other trainees stood and shuffled their feet. A few of the blokes were grinning like they were watching a Pit Bull terrier who’d been unexpectedly matched against a toy poodle.

  Before I could form a plan, Sean lunged forwards. I saw the blow coming, but did nothing to avoid it. I guess a part of me wanted to know how far he was prepared to go with this charade.

  I soon found out.

  A moment later I was levering myself off the mat and wiping a trickle of blood away from the corner of my mouth. If looks could kill, they would have been zipping Sean into a body bag right about that point.

  “Come on, Charlie. Your principal’s dead now. I’ve just disposed of you and I’ve stuck a knife in his guts. I let you out on the job and you’ll be dead inside a week. Get up. Do it again.”

  I made it to my feet slowly and took up a stance. Going down the first time had sparked my ribs into grumbling complaint. I’d no desire for a repeat performance, but I’d no idea of the game plan Sean had agreed with Gilby. Until he’d brought me up to speed I knew I was going to have to play by the rules I’d agreed. The injustice of it burned.

  Sean came at me again. This time I blocked him and slid out of harm’s way. Was it me, or did his movements seem more obvious than they once had?

  The last time I’d done any serious hand-to-hand with Sean, he’d walked all over me, but that was years ago. I’d learned some hard lessons since then. And a whole host of dirty tricks. It dawned on me that if I was prepared to really let rip, if I stayed on the ball, and I was lucky, I could probably take him.

  But what about the job I’d set out to do here?

  The prospect of imminent humiliation battled against the danger of exposure. One or the other. There had to be a loser.

  In the end, I let him take my pride.

  When I hit the mat a second time, he graciously gave me a hand up. Glanced at his watch as he did so. “OK everyone, that’s it for this time.”

  Nobody met my eyes as they filed out. As I went to walk past him, Sean touched my arm, but when he spoke, his voice was dispassionate, detached. “You should get that lip seen to,” was all he said.

  I nodded, swallowed the hurt and angry words that were bubbling to the surface, and moved away without speaking.

  Twenty-three

  There was a short gap before we had to be down at the ranges for the next lesson. It gave me time to go up and mop at the cut on my lower lip with paper towel from the bathroom, and grab my jacket.

  My lip seemed to have stopped bleeding anyway, but it was swollen in the centre like a collagen-enhanced starlet. I looked in the mirror and my pale reflection stared back at me, much bruised around the eyes. The sight of my own defeat annoyed me, put some steel back into my spine.

  Sod this! You can’t get away with treating me like this, Sean.

  What did breaking cover matter any more? Tomorrow, Venko was coming and if we didn’t work as a team we were going to be dead. Whatever game Sean was playing, when it came to the crunch I needed to know if I could trust him.

  After their earlier attention, Elsa and Jan seemed to be avoiding me, but I would have ignored them anyway. I made my way back downstairs with brisk determination.

  Sean was in the hallway, deep in conversation with Hofmann. If the hand movements and gestures were anything to go by, they were discussing some finer point of combat technique. It surprised me to note in passing from the big German’s body language that he was listening with an almost deferential intent. Neither man looked pleased when I stalked up between them.

  “Mr Meyer,” I said, forcing out a smile through gritted teeth, “I wonder if I could have a moment of your time?”

  Sean regarded me darkly for a second, then nodded with a show of reluctance that was a little too convincing. “If you’ll excuse me?” he said to Hofmann and followed as I marched out through the main doorway.

  I carried on walking round to the side of the house where we were out of immediate sight, then wheeled to face him.

  “Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” The anger forced a crack in my voice. I swallowed it back. Dammit, I would not cry in front of him!

  Sean dropped a shoulder against the stonework and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment he didn’t speak and that infuriated me all the more.

  “Come on, Sean!” I snapped. “You sent me in here. You wanted answers about how Kirk died. Well, I’ve done my part. I’ve found out what you wanted to know. What the hell have I done to warrant that kind of—”

  “You lied to me, Charlie.” His voice was so soft, so quiet, but it cut me down better than any shout.

  Oh. Shit.

  My anger backed and died, dragging my shoulders down with it. I didn’t need to ask him to explain any further than that. I knew exactly the lie I’d told him, if not in so many words, then certainly by omission.

  “How did you find out?” I asked in a small voice. I couldn’t entirely keep out the bite as I added, “Madeleine?”

  Sean threw me a warning glance. “No, as it happens,” he said and his grim tone told me that Madeleine’s silence on the subject had not met with his approval either. Then he let his breath out hard through his nose. “Does it matter how I found out? What matters is that I know and you should have been the one to tell me.”

  It was the note of accusation in his voice that did it. The pain in my body now extended right the way to my soul. Before I knew it I’d pushed Sean roughly against the stone at his back, with my arm across his throat and my face close in to his. He could have stopped me, but he didn’t do it.

  “What did you want me to tell you, Sean?” I hissed. I wanted to hurt him, like he was hurting me. I bunched my fists into his T-shirt at the shoulder, gripped until my hands ached.

  “Did you want me to just come right out with it? That the four of them beat me up, and then they held me down and they raped me, one by one?” I said, deliberate, my eyes fixed on his face. “When would have been a good time to break that kind of news, hmm? You tell me. Over a quiet drink perhaps? Dinner?”

  He made an impatient gesture, a shrug like a horse trying to twitch off flies, then he stilled and I felt his muscles give.

  “I don’t know how you should have done it, Charlie, OK?” he said, sounding unbearably tired, as though he’d been holding out some last slim hope that it had all been a mistake. “All I know is that you kept it from me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I let go of him, stepped back not meeting his eyes. It suddenly struck me how cold it was. My jacket wasn’t enough to keep it out and when I wrapped my arms around my body I discovered I was shivering.

  “How could I bloody tell you?” I said. “At the time I thought you’d abandoned me, and then later you thought I’d accused you of rape because they’d thrown me out of the unit.” My voice cracked again. “You actually believed that of me, Sean. The army fed it to you, and you swallowed it whole.”

  “I didn’t abandon you, Charlie, you know that,” he said in a perfectly reasonable tone.
“But how could I not believe them when all the evidence at the time was pointing that way?”

  The anger clawed back up my throat like bile.

  “Oh well, if you were working on evidence alone, I would have been twice damned, wouldn’t I?” I threw at him. “After all, the evidence was shown to prove that I decided to indulge in a gang-bang with the four of them, then panicked when things got a bit rougher than I was expecting. How’s that for fucking evidence? In more ways than one.”

  I swear I saw him flinch, but I could have been mistaken. He hid it fast and rounded on me.

  “So how did they explain you getting your throat half cut?” he bit back. “Did that not count against them, or was it just dismissed as part of some bizarre sexual game?”