The Game (Tom Wood)

THIRTY





Leeson led Victor outside. Dietrich and Francesca didn’t follow. The sun was bright and hot. There was an annexe separate from the main farmhouse as well as the newer barn.

‘The generator is in the annexe,’ Leeson explained. ‘Wait here for a moment, will you?’

‘Sure.’

The younger man approached the barn and Victor stood in the sun, pivoting on the spot to look out at the surrounding land. Wherever he looked fields of olive trees stretched into the distance. Green mountains rose in the east. Farmhouses littered the landscape, but the closest village was about five kilometres to the south.

Leeson opened a door and disappeared momentarily into the barn. He closed the door behind him. When he reappeared he walked back towards Victor, followed a few seconds later by a huge figure.

The man filled the doorframe. Victor had had to duck his head to avoid colliding with the farmhouse’s low doorframes, but this man had to bend his knees and angle his shoulders to walk out of the barn, and he ducked his head to one side so his ear almost touched one shoulder.

His head and hands were in proportion to the rest of his body, so Victor knew his physique had not been built with weights but was ingrained in his DNA.

Leeson said, ‘This is Mr Jaeger.’

Jaeger’s shadow fell over Victor and he extended his right hand. It was massive, fingers twice as thick as Victor’s own. The wrist was wide and dense. Knotty muscle bulged from the forearm.

‘You must be the new guy,’ Jaeger said.

The accent was German. He was about forty years old. He wore jeans stained with oil and a white undershirt dark with sweat. Hair covered his arms, shoulders and exposed areas of chest and back.

‘I’m Kooi,’ Victor said.

He shook the hand, maintaining an even expression despite the enormous force he felt in Jaeger’s grip. He had no doubt that if he so chose, Jaeger could break his hand without even applying his full strength.

‘From Holland, right?’ Jaeger asked.

Victor nodded.

‘I like your cheese.’

‘I don’t make it.’

Jaeger grinned and released Victor’s hand. It was red.

They stared at each other for a moment. Jaeger was evaluating Victor, and either he couldn’t hide that fact or he didn’t feel the need to. Victor returned the favour.

Jaeger said to Leeson, ‘I’d better get back to it,’ and then to Victor, ‘See you around, Kooi from Holland.’

‘What’s in the barn?’ Victor asked when Jaeger had angled himself back through the door.

‘My Phantom,’ Leeson said. ‘But the barn is off limits to everyone but myself and Mr Jaeger. Please respect that.’

‘Of course.’

They stood in silence for a moment. Leeson gestured to the red-tiled rooftops and church spire of the village to the south.

‘It’s a nice place,’ he said. ‘Lots of chubby little Italians going about their business as if the world had stopped turning the same time as the first motor car appeared.’

‘Nothing wrong with leading a quiet life.’

‘True enough, I suppose. But for men like you and I quiet is just not enough, is it? Otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here now.’

‘One day it might be.’

‘When you’re old and grey and growing fat from the spoils of a less quiet life?’

‘That’s the plan.’

‘If you live that long, you mean?’

Victor nodded.

Leeson patted him on the arm, then looked away, turning and tilting his head back so the sun shone on his face. Victor turned on the spot, memorising features of the farmhouse, the surrounding countryside, angles and distances and lines of sight. The village was about five kilometres away, downhill, but cross country because he wouldn’t be able to take a road and risk being spotted. A twenty-minute slow jog because he couldn’t afford to arrive at the village out of breath and sweating, and because he would have to run back uphill for thirty minutes. If the village was as rustic as Leeson described there would likely be a payphone. He needed to make contact with Muir as soon as possible. The farmhouse was old. There were no mod cons. No security measures. He could slip away tonight, update Muir, and be back within an hour.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel driveway. Too light for Dietrich or Jaeger. Too heavy for Francesca. Another member of the team.

‘Mr Coughlin,’ Leeson said as he turned around. ‘How good of you to join us.’

The man was slight of build, mid-twenties, dressed in khaki trousers and a white undershirt. His arms were thin and tanned brown up to a line where the sleeves of a T-shirt would reach, and pale beyond. His shoulders had reddened in the sun.

‘Is this Kooi?’

He was British, from the north of the country.

‘Mr Kooi,’ Leeson said, ‘meet Mr Coughlin.’

He was about five eight, about one hundred and fifty pounds. He wore a backwards-facing baseball cap and mirrored sunglasses. Three days’ worth of stubble covered his cheeks and neck and surrounded his mouth.

‘You any good?’ Coughlin asked.

‘You had better believe it.’

Coughlin nodded, but the stubble, sunglasses and hat made his face unreadable.

Leeson said, a little apologetically, ‘Mr Coughlin is something of an expert marksman.’

‘Royal Marine sniper.’ Coughlin pointed with his chin to a tattoo on his left shoulder. ‘Thirty-two confirmed between Afghan and Iraq.’

Victor said, ‘Only thirty-two?’

Coughlin’s back straightened. ‘A lot more unconfirmed. Obviously.’

‘The Marines must have been sorry when you left.’

Coughlin said nothing but his smile disappeared. ‘So, what action have you seen in the world famous Dutch military? I’m all ears here.’

‘Who said I’m ex-military?’

Coughlin sneered. ‘A civilian? Shit. You must be the designated driver then.’

‘Mr Kooi has proved himself very capable,’ Leeson interjected.

‘That right?’

Victor nodded.

Coughlin said, ‘Then I can’t wait to see you in action.’



When they were back in the farmhouse’s kitchen, Leeson said, ‘Do you know why I hired you?’

‘I don’t even know what you hired me for, so I wouldn’t even guess why you hired me.’

‘I hired you because you are careful. I hired you because you didn’t accept my offer to kill Francesca. You don’t act rashly. You do what is sensible.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I think you do, at least partly. For the job I need doing I need different people with different skill sets as well as different mindsets. For example, Mr Dietrich would brave a storm of bullets in order to earn his pay cheque. The man has no fear and no compunction, both of which are traits that are valuable to me. But I only require one Mr Dietrich. Now do you understand?’

‘I imagine one Dietrich is more than enough.’

Leeson smiled briefly. ‘I’m taking a risk telling you this, because perhaps you will react poorly to it, but had you agreed to kill Francesca for me I would have had Mr Coughlin shoot you with a high-powered rifle.’

Victor nodded. ‘Then I’m glad I declined.’

‘As I said, I needed a man who was careful and composed, a man who wouldn’t do something rash without weighing up the consequences. Alas, there are precious few ways to test such a thing. I hope you can appreciate that.’

‘I do. And what might have happened had I accepted your offer is irrelevant to me because I did not accept. Had I accepted I would now be dead and my understanding of what caused my demise would not be necessary.’

‘I’m glad you can see it like that.’

‘When do I get my things back?’

Leeson nodded, having expected the question would come; no doubt he had answered it already with Jaeger, Dietrich and Coughlin. ‘When the job is complete all your belongings will be promptly returned to you.’

‘How long will it be until then?’

‘Are you in a hurry to be somewhere?’

Victor shrugged. ‘Do I need to be in a hurry to wonder how long I’ll be here?’

‘You’ll remain here for more than a day but less than a year. That is all I will say on the matter for now. During that time you will be my guest and everything you might need shall be provided for you.’

‘Everything?’

‘You have a hand, don’t you? You are not permitted to leave the farmhouse grounds unless that is a requirement of your work. In such an instance you will be accompanied by another member of the team at all times.’

‘Sounds as if I’m more of a prisoner than a guest.’

‘You may elect to use whichever word you think is most suitable to the situation, but those are the terms of your employment and they will be obeyed without argument.’

‘Then I want more money.’

‘Of course, Mr Kooi. I would have not have expected otherwise. Shall we say a twenty-five per cent increase in your fee?’

‘Thirty per cent.’

‘Agreed. I am now your boss and you are my employee. This is your place of work and you will follow my orders and respect my decisions, and in return I will make you a very wealthy gentleman.’

‘You still haven’t told me what the job is yet.’

‘For now, Mr Kooi, the job is to wait. But tonight it will begin with a little excursion.’