Ryker drove on for only five miles before he dumped the van. His only intention in taking it had been to get away from the men; he knew he couldn’t stay in the vehicle for long if he wanted to evade whoever it was that would undoubtedly now come looking for him. The police? MI5? A government hit squad?
When Ryker had first driven off he’d been on a quiet back road on the outskirts of Swindon, and after leaving the van, he headed the couple of miles into the center of the town on foot. On his way, he used a simple hack to gain access to the stolen phone, and once in the town was further able to use the stored card details to buy a change of clothes and some food. In a quiet café he spent some time browsing the device for clues as to the identities and loyalties of his captors, but there was nothing that jumped out at him on there, other than confirmation of the man’s name, and from his social media profile that he was indeed ex-army – that in itself was of little help.
A quick search through breaking news and social media didn’t pull up anything of interest. There were no reports of Ryker being a wanted man. No reports of his violent escape from custody. That was good. It meant there wasn’t a full-on nationwide manhunt for him.
The big question though, was why not?
He left the phone behind in the café. He had no further use for it, and before long Kaspovich would be able to trace Ryker’s whereabouts if he kept it on him.
Instead, Ryker found a Western Union shop, and after using one of their terminals to transfer five hundred pounds to himself, he was soon on his way back to Gloucestershire to pick up his belongings. A risky move perhaps, but a necessary one under the circumstances as Ryker was now officially on the run, and he wouldn’t get far without quick access to cash or his collection of IDs.
It was a risk worth taking, and one that went without any hitches, and Ryker was soon on the move again, heading out of Gloucestershire in another newly rented vehicle. His trip to the Cotswolds had gone far from plan. He still knew little about the circumstances of Grichenko’s murder, and he knew little about how and why Kaspovich was not just involved but had Ryker in his sights as a suspect.
Turning the tables and tracking down Kaspovich himself, and putting some pressure on him, was an option that Ryker seriously considered, but it was an alternative route that he decided on eventually.
Grichenko had survived the assassination attempt ten years ago, despite Ryker’s crew confirming he was dead. Whoever had killed the Russian days ago in England, the simple fact remained that at least one of the team from Doha had lied to Ryker. The cover-up of the failed mission had to have some connection to Grichenko’s new life, and his eventual death.
It was time to go back to the beginning.
* * *
The drive north and east took three hours and it was deep into the night before Ryker made it into Lincolnshire. After the day he’d had he needed to rest up, but he decided against a hotel, and, instead, spent the night huddled in the car by the side of the road next to a farmer’s field. He shivered through the cold night and woke up with the sunrise the next day with a splitting headache and a grumbling belly. But at least he was only a couple of miles from his destination.
The converted barn was a good half mile from the next nearest building, nestled among rolling fields that were barren in winter and dotted with patches of white where previous snow and sleet hadn’t fully melted. It remained cold outside, though at least the sun was shining for once.
Ryker parked up on the road outside the property, scaled the gate, and headed along the driveway on foot. Smoke plumed out of the single chimney pot to the stone-built structure. There was one car on the drive – a battered Land Rover Defender. An almost omnipresent vehicle choice in these rural parts.
He moved cautiously, not knowing exactly what to expect from the owners if they spotted him approaching. He reached the oak door without seeing or hearing anyone and knocked three times then stood back.
Footsteps inside. Ryker braced himself. The door was opened and two timid eyes stared out at him.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman said.
‘Mrs Aldern?’ Ryker said.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m an old friend of Wes’s. Is he in?’
She looked even more apprehensive now.
‘Is he home?’
‘An old friend, huh?’
‘We worked together.’
‘Did you? Then I’m surprised you don’t already know.’
Ryker slumped a little. He understood. ‘He’s dead.’
* * *
Not the introduction he’d hoped for. Yet Ryker still found himself sitting in the cozy lounge minutes later. Paula Aldern was in the kitchen next door, as the kettle boiled away. Ryker looked around as he waited. Several pictures on the wall were of Aldern in his military uniform when he’d been a much younger man. There were also pictures of two children, although there was little sign of them in the house. Aldern was only a few years older than Ryker, but perhaps the kids had already left the nest.
Paula came back in carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. Ryker wanted to smile at the hospitality, but the mood of his host was understandably somber.
‘What happened to him?’ Ryker asked.
She placed the tray on the coffee table then perched herself on the edge of a threadbare armchair.
‘Straight to it, right?’
‘I’m sorry, I just—’
‘It’s fine. I know the type. The truth is, I don’t know exactly what happened to him. They didn’t tell me.’
Certainly work then, rather than natural causes, Ryker could only assume.
‘When?’
‘Three years ago.’ An awkward pause. ‘You say you worked with him? I’m guessing not in the army.’
She looked at Ryker with something between pity and disgust as she said that.
‘No. Not in the army. I was never in the army.’
‘Those were his best years. He was a good man back then.’
Ryker nodded.
‘Until he became… like you.’ She wasn’t making any eye contact with Ryker now.
‘Like me?’
‘I know what you are. I see it in you. Your eyes. Just like his at the end. It was like living with a ghoul. A shadow with no soul.’
Was that how some people saw Ryker? Given the things he’d seen and done in his life, it wouldn’t be a surprise. The trauma he’d suffered, the trauma he’d inflicted, it all took its toll. Though it was unusual to be called out on it so openly, and so soon after meeting someone for the first time. And it didn’t make him feel good in any way to know that that was the way some people saw him.
Was it justified?
‘We worked together just one time,’ Ryker said. ‘In Qatar. Ten years ago.’
She did make eye contact now, though showed no particular reaction to Ryker’s words.
‘He’d only been in the job two years at that point,’ she said. ‘There was still some of the old him left.’
Another interesting comment. Ryker hadn’t known Aldern well, but what he had known of him was that he was loud and boisterous – in a jovial way. A strong-willed man who said what he meant, and was as tough as nails. But they’d only ever worked together on that one job, and it had been far from perfect. Aldern was supposed to have been a lookout. He’d strayed from position, gone to that wooded area having been spooked and had been attacked there, likely by the same men Ryker had grappled with when he’d gone looking for his crew member. The next Ryker had seen of Aldern was in the back of the van as the crew made their escape. Grichenko dead. Mission messy, but complete.
The team had taken the boat to Oman and had separated on the docks after a perfunctory debrief. Ryker hadn’t seen or heard anything from any of them since. He’d moved on to his next mission, as he expected the others had – doing whatever, for whoever. Yet Ryker had always had a qualm in the back of his mind as to exactly why that night had strayed from plan. Why Aldern had left his position and ended up incommunicado. Who’d opened fire first indoors, and why. Who the mystery men were who’d attacked Aldern and Ryker.
‘Did he ever talk about Qatar? About what happened there?’
‘I didn’t even know he’d been there. He never talked about any of it. I take it you’re not married?’
Ryker shook his head.
‘No, of course not. Who could be married to someone like that? So many secrets. So many lies.’
A tear rolled down her cheek. They sat through a few moments of silence. Ryker could tell her brain was racing. He waited for her to open up.
‘The thing is, to start with I got the sense that he wanted to talk to me about it,’ she said. ‘He was so excited when he was approached to join. He wanted to tell me about it all. But he couldn’t. His hands were tied. He was too loyal. I got that even from when he was in the army. I knew the new job was for the government, and that that was all I’d ever find out. But…’
‘But?’
‘But after a while, he… just became numb to it all. His whole being was numb. He said nothing, felt nothing.’
Ryker closed his eyes for a few seconds. He knew exactly how that felt.
‘And then came the call.’
Ryker held her eye now. Again waited for her to expand. She didn’t. ‘The call?’
‘All they told me was that there’d been a problem. Abroad. He was dead. They were working hard to repatriate his body. They’d put on a ceremonial funeral when he was home.’
‘And did they?’
She nodded.
‘So they got him home?’
She nodded again.
‘You saw his body?’
She screwed her face in disgust. ‘What is this?’
‘I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.’
‘Who sent you?’ Paula said. Her tone was stronger now. The accusation all too clear. She saw Ryker as a threat, not a friend.
‘I don’t work with anyone. I left that life. That’s the truth. I’m not a threat here.’
‘No. Everything and everyone from that life is a threat. Even if you don’t see it, you bring it.’
He felt he knew what she meant by that.
‘I needed to ask about that night in Qatar, that’s all,’ Ryker said. ‘And I needed his help. But I can see you’re not comfortable with me being here. I’ll go.’
Ryker made to get up. That was when he noticed Paula’s eyes flick behind him. Ryker followed her line of sight, then jerked upright, spun around.
He was staring into the double barrel of a shotgun. The guy holding the weapon had snuck up quiet as a mouse.
‘Time for you to leave,’ the young man said.
All of twenty years old, he was tall and beefy. Well, chubby, and looked exactly like a younger but fuller Aldern.
Ryker held his hands up and glanced back to Paula. The tea and biscuits lay untouched still on the coffee table. Clever. To offer that, trying to keep Ryker at ease while she awaited her savior.
‘I’m not a threat to you two,’ Ryker said. He sounded way more calm than Aldern’s son had. The shotgun quivered in his grip now. Which actually made Ryker all the more nervous. One twitch and he’d have a bunch of shotgun pellets in his chest. This was a time for treading carefully.
‘You don’t want to shoot me,’ Ryker said. ‘And you don’t want me as your enemy. Believe me.’
‘Just go,’ Paula said.
‘I think that’d be best.’ He stepped to the side. The gun barrels followed him. He remained staring at the metal as he continued to step sideways, then backward toward the door. He opened it without looking then backstepped outside. The gun and Aldern’s son followed him out.
‘I don’t want to see you here ever again,’ the guy said.
That was fine by Ryker. ‘You won’t.’
There was nothing for him here anyway.