“Who are you? The police?”
“No,” Kaine said, “not the police. My men and I have slightly more latitude than the police.”
She crushed the sodden tissue into a tight ball and frowned.
“Danny and Stefan call you Captain. Are you soldiers?”
Kaine tilted his head to one side. “Something like that. Although we’re mostly self-employed these days.”
“Self-employed. You mean, mercenaries?”
“No, Marian. Not at all. That term has rather negative associations. Those people in your kitchen—and the ones who worked for the Patakis—they are mercenaries. Hired hands. My men and I are different.”
“What are you, then?”
Good question.
How could he describe himself and his men? If not mercs then … what?
“We’re volunteers, Marian. The good guys who can do what the police can’t. We take on cases like yours and deliver proper justice.”
“Volunteers?”
“Yes, that’s right. And we’re volunteering to sort out this mess for you and your baby.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
Kaine paused and swallowed, almost unable to speak.
“It’s what … Danny would have wanted.”
“But there are so few of you. What can you do against a mob like the Patakis?”
“You’d be surprised at what a few good people can achieve, Marian. And, trust me, we are very, very good at what we do.”
Stefan stiffened and jerked his head up. His gaze focused on a spot beyond Kaine’s shoulder, but he relaxed when Lara emerged from the kitchen and hurried towards them.
Kaine patted Marian’s hand and jumped to his feet. “Don’t worry. It’s the medic.”
“A woman?”
“She was, last time I looked.” On this occasion, Marian did return his smile. “Stefan, would you mind taking Marian upstairs to gather some belongings? We’ll be away as soon as we can.”
“I packed earlier, remember?”
“Yes, I know. But you have a little more time now. Don’t bother with too many clothes, just pack the ones you’re most comfortable wearing. Take the most important, sentimental stuff. Photos and the like. You won’t be able to return here. Never. No need for passports or wedding certificates, either. We’ll organise some new ones for you later.”
The blow showed on her pale and bruised face as her changed situation struck home.
Kaine was sick of seeing women who carried bruises and suffered broken bones at the hands of angry and entitled men. Melanie Archer had been beaten both recently and throughout her marriage, and now Marian Prentiss stood before him, damaged by the fists of a thug. Would it ever end?
He turned to Lara, whose own facial bruising—the legacy of her meeting with a South African bigot—had only recently faded.
So much pain, so much brutality.
And now Danny.
Christ, what a world.
After Stefan had escorted Marian from the room and they’d reached the stairs, Lara lowered her bandana to reveal a concerned expression.
“You were right,” she said.
“Really? Makes a change. What about?”
She tutted and shook her head. “The two minor casualties will need hospitalisation, but Lajos Pataki is the most serious case. He’ll need more treatment than I can offer him, especially if we want to try and save that arm.”
“Who said anything about saving his arm? If it keeps him alive long enough to get him home, you can chop the bloody thing off for all I care.”
“Ryan!” she snapped, and shot a glance over his shoulder for fear of having shouted his name too loudly.
He stared her down hard. “You’ve never heard of a battlefield amputation?”
“No, darn it! That’s out of the question!” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “He needs an operating theatre and an experienced orthopaedic surgeon.”
“Not a chance. If you don’t operate, I’ll do it myself. Either that, or I’ll release the tourniquet and you know what happens then.”
They both knew.
Earlier, in the kitchen, Kaine checked Lajos’ wrist below the tourniquet. He’d found no pulse. No pulse meant tissue death and a build-up of both toxins and blood pressure. Releasing the tourniquet would allow those same toxins to flood through Lajos’ circulatory system and cause all sorts of damage. Damage including acute renal failure along with a load of other medical conditions, none of which would end well for the patient.
“Really? You’d do that?”
For the first time since they’d met, Kaine scowled at the only woman he’d ever really loved. A reluctance to demonstrate exactly what he was prepared to do to exact vengeance had been one of the reasons he didn’t want Lara around.
“In a heartbeat. You know who these people are and what they’re capable of doing, right? They killed Danny and Robert Prentiss, for God’s sake!”
“I know that, but he’s my patient and I have a responsibility to do my best for him—for them all.”
Kaine took gentle hold of her upper arm. “Do whatever you can for him. Either amputate, or not, I don’t care. But whatever you do, we’re out of here within the next half hour.”
She tore her arm away. “For pity’s sake, Ryan. I’d need more time than that.”
“You have all you need in your bag, right? And you know what’s entailed?”
Lara blanched as the implications of what he was forcing upon her hit home.
“Yes, I … removed a dog’s shattered leg once, but that was in my clinic, under sterile conditions. Not in a farmhouse kitchen. And it was a dog, Ryan, not a man. I mean, we don’t even have access to hot water, for God’s sake!”
“Lajos Pataki’s not a man! He’s a murdering monster. Remember that, and remember what happened to Danny! Do it, Lara. Keep him alive if you can. Now, what about the other two?”
She shook her head as though finding it difficult to concentrate.
“I-I made them comfortable and patched them up as best I could. Sterilised their wounds. They’re in no immediate danger. One will probably lose his hand. There’s too much damage. And no, I won’t be amputating it, no matter what you say!”
He smiled in relief as Lara showed her mettle.
“As for the other one,” she continued, “the one with the scalds. He’ll probably need skin grafts for his hands, but his face isn’t too serious. Boiling water, Ryan? Really?”
Kaine held up his hands. “Don’t waste your sympathy on him. He did that to himself while trying to kill me. Right”—he stood up straighter—“better get on and treat Lajos. The minute you’re done, we’re out of here—whether he’s ready to move or not. You can call an ambulance for the other two when we’re on the road.”
“Ryan,” she said, tears forming, “I don’t know if I can do this. It’s all too … awful.”
“Think of him as an animal in pain. You’ll be easing his suffering. Does that help?”
“No. Not one little bit.”
Kaine shrugged. “Apparently, back in the American Civil War, a decent surgeon could remove a limb in less than ninety seconds.” He raised an eyebrow, but decided not to add a cheeky grin. “I’m giving you a full thirty minutes. What are you complaining about?”
“Ryan, this isn’t funny.”
“That bastard had a hand in Danny’s death. No single part of this is funny, Lara.” He took a breath. “Need any help with the operation?”
“Yes please. Someone should hold him down. I’ve given him ketamine for the pain, but it will be a while before the full effects kick in.”
“Ask Cough to lend a hand.”
“Cough? I thought you might …”
Kaine looked aghast. “Me? Hell no. I’m far too squeamish to take part in a medical operation. I’d probably faint away on you.”
“Ryan, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Do your best, Lara. And hurry.”
“And while I’m hacking
a man’s arm off, what are you going to be doing?”
“Me?” he said, glancing at one of the bloodstains decorating the floor in the hall. “I’ll be planning a little road trip. After all this mayhem, I reckon the gang needs a holiday.”
Lara gulped. “I’m really going to do this, aren’t I?”
He cupped her cheek. “Sorry, love. If there was another way, I’d take it. You know that, right?”
She closed her eyes and leaned her face into his hand.
“I know, but it’s too horrible.”
“You’re using ketamine, you say?”
“I am.”
“Isn’t one of the side-effects possible memory loss?”
“Yes. One of the reason it’s sometimes used as a date-rape drug. Why?”
“Maybe Lajos will forget some of what happened here. We might be able to use that.” Kaine remembered the idea that had struck him earlier and dropped his hand from her cheek. “By the way, how’s his ankle? He was limping and there was blood.”
She shook her head, her expression dismissive.
“Looks much worse than it is. Plenty of blood but it’s little more than a scratch. All he needs are a few stitches.”
“Hmm.”
“Why?”
“Do me a favour, will you?”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Another one?”
“Yes please.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“After you’re done lopping off his arm, can you bandage the ankle heavily. Make it look like it’s broken?”
“Ryan, what on earth for?”
“We might need it as a convincer.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“And you’re wasting time.” He checked his watch. “You now have less than twenty-seven minutes.”
“Darn you, Ryan Liam Kaine. The second we’re out of here, you’re going to tell me what you have in mind, okay?”
“Yes, I promise. Now, go. Do your stuff, Doctor.”
Frowning, she turned and hurried away.
Kaine watched her go, silently wishing her well and hoping she’d learn to forgive him. When she disappeared into the kitchen, he stepped deeper into the front room and tapped the earpiece. “Alpha One to Control, come in. Over.”
“Corky here, Mr K. And don’t worry, the comms unit you gave the Commando is offline. You and dear old Corky are alone in hyperspace. Whatcha need next?”
“Everything check out with Commando and Merc? Over.”
“So far, yeah. They ain’t nothing but hired guns. Don’t have a Scooby ’bout the big picture, but they did give Corky a line on the Pataki family’s operation in the UK. Pretty small potatoes, by the way. More or less one cousin and ’is dog. Want me to shut him down?”
“Might well do. After the dust settles a little, I was going to take a bunch of the lads and pay a house call. When news gets out about Danny, there won’t be any shortage of volunteers baying for Hungarian blood. Over.”
“You can do it like that, of course. But Corky has a cleaner way in mind. More clinical, you know?”
“Care to explain? Over.”
“Yeah. Although Cousin Pataki’s here legally, he’s selling drugs and women in Hull. Only small scale right now, but it’s a growing business. Corky can set him up for a police raid any time you fancy it. And since he’s part of an organised crime gang, the National Crime Agency will want to be involved.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me, but hold off for a while. We don’t want to tip our hand to Papa Pataki. Over.”
“You mean the ‘Giant of Győr’?” Cork asked, his voice bubbling with sarcasm.
“Yes, the very man. I’ll let you know when you can drop Cousin Pataki in the mire. Meanwhile, do you mind running one of your world famous deep dives on the Pataki family’s operations in Győr, please? Over.”
“Already on it, Mr K. You’ll have the first level rundown by the time you reach the farm.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Control. Did you find anything interesting on the phones or on the tablet I liberated from the deceased in the BMW? Over.”
“Yeah. Quite a bit, actually. Corky will include the important stuff in the report. That gizmo, though. Brilliant. Really clever bit of kit.”
“Was it responsible for blocking our comms earlier? Over.”
“Sure was. Corky can’t wait to get his hands on it. Might help develop a work-around to stop something similar happening to our comms system again. Wouldn’t mind having a chat with the inventor if you can arrange it.”
“Doubt that’ll happen anytime soon. I suspect he was the second fatality in the BMW. Over.”
“Shame. The guy was one clever dude.”
“Do you have Viktor Pataki’s phone number to hand? Over.”
“Sure do, Mr K.”
“Just a sec”—Kaine pulled out his mobile and navigated to the contacts screen—“ready. Fire away. Over.”
Corky dictated the number and Kaine tapped it in for later use.
“Okay Control. Here’s the final request for the moment. Can you start building a legend for Marian Prentiss. We can hide her away in a hotel for a few days with Cough and Stefan for protection, but that’s only ever going to be a stop-gap. Over.”
“Whoa. This helping you lark is becoming a full-time job, Mr K.”
“Sorry, Control. Am I asking too much of you? Over.”
“Nah. If that ever happens, Corky’s gonna let you know sharpish.” Corky laughed. “Or maybe he’ll just stop answering your calls. Laters, Mr K.”
“See you, Control. And thanks again. No idea where we’d be without you. Alpha One, out.”
Kaine tapped the earpiece into silence and took a breath. He looked down. His hands were still stained with Danny’s blood. They shook with the adrenaline washout and he formed fists.
Oh Jesus. Danny. I am so sorry.
A gut-churning scream from the kitchen echoed through the whole house. Clearly, Lara had started the operation. Kaine shuddered and swallowed the bile bubbling up from his gut.
Confessing to being squeamish about medical procedures hadn’t exactly been a total lie.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wednesday 3rd May – Viktor Pataki
Pataki Compound, Outside Győr, Hungary
Viktor Pataki, the all-powerful Giant of Győr, stood with his hands clasped behind his broad back, staring through the open window and breathing deeply of the cool evening air. The wide valley, his valley, stretched out below him to the west, the shadows thrown long by the setting sun. He had built the compound to protect his legacy. His powerful legacy, and it was being threatened on all sides.
Born in poverty, Viktor had ripped the awful power he wielded from the very core of the land by the pure driving force of his will. He protected that power with the fury of a jealous God. No one would take it from him. No one!
Men with rifles patrolled the grounds, a testament to his strength and influence. They would repel any attack. They would willingly give up their lives to protect their leader, their Giant. He inhaled another deep breath of the sweet, pure air of his Hungarian homeland, but it felt wrong. A bitterness fouled his nose hairs, the bitterness of anger, frustration, and curiosity.
Where are they?
From England, he had heard nothing since early that morning. Something bad had happened. He sensed it deep within his bones.
Viktor turned to face the room. The men cowered beneath his baleful glare. As well they might. With one simple dismissive wave of his mighty hand, he could have any one of them gutted, skinned, and eradicated from the Earth, and no one would lift a finger to protect them. Police would enter the compound at their peril. If necessary, his brave men would defend their Giant from an army division. He was impregnable. Unstoppable. All-powerful.
So, what had happened in England?
“Not one word from either of them?” he growled at Peder Torok, who shuddered under the onslaught, as was the way of such a cre
ature.
“I-I am afraid not, főnök,” Torok answered. He swallowed deeply, wrung his hands, and gave that sickening, fawning half-bow, half-smile of his.
Hateful insect.
A sycophant of the worst order, but as the chosen man of Lajos, Viktor let him live. Without Lajos, the insect would have been “disappeared” long, long ago.
“And Cousin Ido?”
“He has heard nothing, főnök. I spoke to him one hour ago, when both Vadik and Lajos failed to make contact.”
Things were turning to dirt. What was the point of having the terrifying reputation of the Giant of Győr when nobody trembled and no one replied to his calls?
Viktor had planned the operation with the precision of a military strike. A little intimidation, minimal bloodletting, nothing serious. Money had even changed hands. Every section of the plan should have been accomplished by now. The money transfer had completed on time and without challenge. Even now, the Pataki family should be in legal possession of a new business operation, but something had gone wrong.
“I paid good money to that little blond geek for his fancy toys!” he howled and thumped his chest. “I even let him tag along as he begged. Now, I cannot even talk to my sons. What the fuck is happening in that vile backwater of a country? What of Robert Prentiss?”
Again, Torok wrung his hands. Much more of that, and he would lose them, finger by finger.
“Has it not made the BBC news?”
“No, főnök. I have been watching the local and national reports via the internet, but there has been nothing related to the … operation.”
Viktor’s angry roar rolled around the room like thunder.
“By now, the body of Robert Prentiss should have been found, apparently dead by his own hands. Do so many prominent people commit suicide in England that it is no longer newsworthy?”
“Perhaps the body has yet to be discovered, főnök. As you know, part of the plan was to have the workforce sent home for the afternoon.”
“Idióta!”
Viktor picked up a nearby tumbler and threw it at the useless fuck. The coward ducked, showing surprisingly good reflexes. The glass smashed against the wall, and the pieces fell to the carpet.
On the Hunt Page 20