Ryker clenched his fists in anger. At Kaspovich, at himself, at Lange. Had she lied to him the whole time? Tried to play him for her own benefit? Well, he’d kind of always suspected that, but he hadn’t suspected it was because she was in cahoots with Kaspovich, the sneaky prick.
But for what end?
Ryker couldn’t exactly say he hadn’t been warned. Elliott had told Ryker not to trust a word Lange said. What had Elliott known?
Ryker knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t going out to them. So only two options remained. Go to his car and fight those men off and drive away. Or run.
The helicopter’s rotors were slowly coming to a stop, the noise from them and the engine dying down by the second as Lange and Kaspovich remained standing, staring around them.
There was a call from inside the cabin. Both of them turned and headed in. No doubt they’d just found Elliott’s body.
Would Kaspovich try to pin that on Ryker too? Was that the game here? From the outside Ryker certainly looked to be in the shit. He’d been at Grichenko’s murder scene. He’d been with Weller hours before he’d been killed. He was here now, had even moved Elliott’s body and no doubt left forensic traces of his presence in the process. He was linked to four murders.
Yet what he’d seen in Lange’s files suggested they knew who the real culprit was. The female assassin. Surely they didn’t really believe him responsible. So were they trying to set him up, or was there an alternative answer?
Perhaps they were simply trying to figure out Ryker’s own agenda.
Seconds later a hissing noise penetrated through the quietening roar of the rotors, coming from Ryker’s right. One, two, three, four bursts.
The tires of his car being slashed.
So that was one of his options taken away. But Ryker still remained rooted as he thought through his next move.
Kaspovich, Lange, and two of the men emerged from the cabin. They spread out and stared across into the woods. ‘Ryker!’ Lange shouted. She was looking at a single spot in the woods as she called, but not where Ryker was crouching. ‘Ryker! Please come out. We’re here to help you. We know what’s happening now. Don’t make this harder for yourself. For us all.’
Ryker gritted his teeth in anger. Did she even believe the words that spewed from her mouth?
Ryker had seen enough here. Any moment they’d be coming into the woods after him. He turned and carefully, silently, edged away, further into the trees. He’d moved all of ten steps before he heard shouts behind him.
‘Ryker!’ Kaspovich now. His voice boomed through the trees. ‘I know you’re out there. This is your last chance.’
‘Don’t be stupid, James,’ Lange shouted. ‘You can’t do this on your own. Elliott’s dead. Weller’s dead. Salman too. We just found that out. He was in Dubai. Living a quiet life as a security guard. We’re all targets. There are only three of us left. We need to help each other.’
Ryker ignored her and kept on moving. Soon the helicopter’s rotors were starting up once again. He hoped that was simply because they’d had enough and were leaving already, but seconds later when Ryker heard rustling behind him, he knew that wasn’t the case. They were on his tail. Boots on the ground as well as an eye in the sky.
He picked up his pace. Turned off to the northwest, where he knew if he continued to head down he’d eventually get to a village, even if it was some ten or twelve miles of trekking over mountainous, snowy, and icy terrain.
He looked behind him every few steps. He was sure he could see the flash of one of the men’s coats, about twenty yards back. Were they gaining on him?
Ryker opted against caution now and moved more quickly, though the gradient of the sloping ground was becoming steeper, making it harder and harder to keep his footing.
‘I see him!’
No. It was no good. He couldn’t lose them like this. His only option was to lure them in and attack.
He looked over his shoulder as he continued forward. But he could see nothing of them, which made him feel all the more vulnerable. Were they already circling around him somehow?
Then the helicopter whooshed overhead. Ryker instinctively glanced upward, even though the craft remained unseen somewhere above the trees.
Big mistake. Ryker went to put his foot down, but with him staring up he misjudged. His foot slipped. He tumbled forward. He tried to place his other foot out to balance himself but that was already swinging wayward as he toppled.
Before he knew it he was on his side, sliding down a steep, icy verge. He smacked into a tree trunk but rather than stop him it simply spun him around and he was on his back sliding head first and down. Down, down.
He scrabbled with his hands, trying to gain a grip on something, anything other than snow.
No use. He slid out over a rocky ledge and was in free fall.
Ryker plummeted. Cold air whistled. He tried to adjust his body. Tried to see how far the ground was below him.
Too late.
Smack.
* * *
Cold. That was the first sensation he was aware of after he crashed down with a jolt. Wet. That was the next sensation as the blood dribbled from a gash at the side of his head.
Black. That was the final thing he could grasp as he drifted into unconsciousness.