The Assassin King

There was a moment, as the Twin Otter came to a stop, when de Bruin was possessed by a wild urge to release himself somehow from his seatbelt and make a run for it. Then everything went crazy. Six police officers in body armour and glass-visored helmets came storming into the cabin with handguns drawn, yelling at everyone to stay where they were and to raise their hands above their heads – which presented quite a problem to de Bruin, what with his wrists still taped together behind his back. But thankfully they realised the plane was free of threat and everything quickly calmed.

The squad leader went to the hatch to give the all clear to someone out of view, then stepped aside to allow them aboard. Trevor Wharton. He took a moment to assess the scene. ‘This man needs urgent medical help,’ Elias told him, putting his hand on Victor’s shoulder. ‘But keep an eye on him. He’s one of them.’

‘Thank you,’ said Wharton coolly. ‘I’ll be making the decisions from now on.’ But then he undermined himself by nodding at his squad leader.

‘He’s the one you really want,’ said Elias, pointing at de Bruin. ‘Be careful with him, though. He’s dangerous.’

Wharton smiled thinly. ‘I think we can manage.’

‘I’m just saying—’

‘You’d be well advised not to say anything further,’ Wharton told him. ‘A man just died up there, as I understand it. That means an automatic referral to the Independent Office for Police Conduct, as you must very well know. And while you were under suspension too. What the hell’s got into you? Running out of HQ this morning after I asked to see you. And going to see Lady Samantha de Bruin, of all people! Don’t you know who her father is? I’ve had the Chief Constable chewing me out all morning.’ He shook his head. ‘How could you be so stupid? If you’ve undermined our case—’

‘Your case!’ scoffed Elias. ‘You had no case.’

‘You’ve no idea what we have,’ snapped Wharton. ‘For the very good reason that we can’t trust you any more.’

‘Sure,’ said Elias. ‘I’m the problem.’

‘Finally he sees it!’ mocked Wharton. ‘Yes, you are. I’m having you taken back to Nettleham to wait for me there, before you can make the situation even worse.’ He turned to his squad leader and gestured at de Bruin. They unstrapped him and hoisted him to his feet with his wrists still bound behind his back. They helped him down from the Twin Otter and over to a waiting paddy wagon, its sliding side door already open. Half its rear was taken up by a steel-barred prisoner cage. They unlocked it and made to put him inside. The indignity was such that de Bruin fought against it, but the policemen were far too strong. They locked him in there then left. He sat on a cold steel bench consoling himself with dark thoughts of revenge. He wasn’t alone long. Trevor Wharton soon stepped up inside, followed by one of his armed officers who slid the panel door closed behind him, leaving the three of them in there alone.

Wharton unlocked the cage and came inside. He sat on the bench across from de Bruin then nodded at his officer who banged the end wall as a signal to the driver to set off. They bumped across uneven ground before reaching the relative smoothness of the airstrip. Wharton leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘So what the fuck happened up there?’ he asked quietly.

‘You think I’ll tell you that?’ retorted de Bruin, flickering a warning glance at the armed officer outside the cage.

‘Don’t worry about Anton,’ said Wharton. ‘He’s one of us.’

‘Yes. One of us.’

‘Fine,’ said de Bruin, turning to offer Wharton his taped wrists. ‘Then get this shit off me.’

‘Forget it,’ said Wharton. ‘You brought that on yourself. Now answer me. What the fuck happened up there? How much did you tell Elias?’

‘I told him nothing.’

‘That’s not what he said over the radio.’

‘Then he was lying.’

Wharton shook his head. ‘What the hell’s got into you? Going back to the farm the other night. Abducting the Warne woman. Have you gone mad?’

‘I needed my ring back.’

‘Then tell me, for god’s sake. I’d have found a way. It’s what I do.’

‘Good. Then find me a way out of this.’

‘Too late,’ said Wharton. ‘You’ve gone too far. Jesus. Even if you’d managed to… I don’t even want to know what you had planned for that poor woman. But taking off with a policeman on your fucking wing. How did you think that was going to work out?’

‘I have resources.’

‘Plastic surgery?’ scoffed Wharton. ‘A false passport? A new name?’

‘Like I say, I have resources. Including the head of Lincolnshire’s Special Operations Unit in my back pocket.’

‘In your dreams. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t work miracles.’

‘You’d better start praying, then. Unless you want the cell next door.’

‘Don’t be an idiot. You need me on the outside.’

‘What for, if you won’t help? I’ll be better off making a deal. How much do you think they’ll offer me for the name of their mole? For receipts for all the payments I’ve made into your Cayman account over the years, the one you bought your lovely Tenerife villa with? Talk about stupidity! And then there’s Colin Vaughn, serving time for your crimes. I bet that will go down well. So find a way. Undermine your investigating team. Taint the evidence. Scare off the witnesses. Pin it all on Andrei. I’ll leave the how up to you. Just get it done, or I talk.’

They glared at each other across the cage until a noise like ripping paper startled them both. De Bruin looked around to see that Anton had undone his Velcro holster strap to draw his handgun. Now he fed its barrel through the bars of the cage. ‘The prisoner managed to free his hands without us realising,’ he said to Wharton, while aiming at de Bruin’s face. ‘He threw himself at you while you were conducting an interview. I had no choice but to shoot.’