The Game (Tom Wood)

FORTY





Lazio, Italy

Victor found the Rolls-Royce waiting for him a couple of kilometres south of the parking garage. It had been too much of a risk to have such a recognisable vehicle in close proximity to two crime scenes and a heavy police presence, so Victor had told Leeson to drive it away while he took care of the last Georgian. The limousine sat along the kerb of a quiet road, out of the direct glare of any streetlights, as Victor had instructed. As he neared, Leeson climbed out of the driver’s seat and greeted Victor with a smile and a handshake.

‘Thank you, Mr Kooi. Thank you so very much.’

‘All part of the service.’

Leeson gripped his hand tightly with both of his own. ‘You saved my life. I don’t know how the hell you pulled it off, but you did. Six of them against the two of us, but here we are, alive and breathing and nothing but some sweat and a few scratches to show we’ve ever been in battle. I really think that—’

Victor opened the rearmost cabin door and gestured. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you think on the way back?’

Leeson smiled, in a different way. ‘Yes, of course, Mr Kooi. Anything you want. Any problems with the last one?’

Victor shook his head.

The younger man climbed into the back and Victor shut the door before getting into the driver’s seat. Leeson pulled open the partition window and then slouched back in his seat.

‘Did you call Dietrich and Coughlin?’ Victor asked.

‘Yes. As you said, I told them to stand down and head back to the farmhouse.’

Victor pulled away from the kerb and set about taking a circuitous route out of Rome. He saw Leeson was smiling and drumming his fingers on the console next to him.

‘Happy to be alive?’

Leeson nodded. ‘I’ve never experienced anything quite like this.’

‘Post-battle elation,’ Victor explained.

‘It’s exhilarating.’

‘Don’t be alarmed if you find yourself experiencing strong sexual desire.’

‘Wouldn’t that make me a psychopath?’

‘That’s not exactly how one is defined, but regardless, it’s nothing to be concerned about. The violence doesn’t cause it. You came close to death. Your subconscious wants you to reproduce while you still can.’

Leeson laughed. ‘I’ll remember you said that if I find myself with an inexplicable erection.’ He fixed himself a drink. ‘Now I understand why men like yourself can do what you do. For the first time in my life I’m actually happy – no, ecstatic – just to be alive. It’s more satisfying than anything I’ve ever experienced. I would happily do it all again just to recapture this sensation.’

‘It diminishes each time.’

‘Do you still feel it?’

Victor shook his head again. ‘I don’t even remember what it really feels like.’

‘Then what do you feel after something like this? What do you feel right now?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No joy?’

‘No joy.’

‘Then I feel sorry for you, Mr Kooi. I really do. Aren’t you glad to be alive?’

‘Of course,’ Victor said. ‘Life is always preferable to the alternative.’

‘Ah, so you are a man who believes there is nothing waiting for us beyond the grave.’

‘No,’ Victor said. ‘That’s the problem.’

‘Then why do what you do?’

‘It pays well.’

Leeson laughed.



He barely stopped smiling for the entire journey back to the farmhouse. He also barely stopped talking. He wanted to relive the experience. They talked through what had happened, their individual roles and how they worked as a team. Leeson described every detail of when he had shot the Georgian attempting to flank them. The panic he had shown in the restaurant was long gone and didn’t seem likely to return in the dead of night, tearing him from sleep and drenching his body in sweat. It wouldn’t be long before he believed he had been fearless.

Victor stopped the Rolls-Royce on the driveway in front of the farmhouse, but kept the engine running.

‘You need to open the barn,’ he said.

‘The barn is off limits—’

‘It doesn’t bother me who does it,’ Victor interrupted. ‘But you need to hide this vehicle. It’ll have been picked up on CCTV and witnesses don’t forget seeing a Rolls-Royce limousine. It’s a bull’s-eye to any aerial surveillance. And you don’t want another visit from your Georgian friends, do you?’

‘Why not?’ Leeson asked with raised eyebrows. ‘We dealt with the last lot easy enough.’

We. Easy.

‘And what about the authorities? Are we going to easily deal with a police helicopter spotting the Phantom and a tactical team knocking down the farmhouse door?’

Leeson nodded. ‘Okay, you win. Sensible as always. I’ll have Mr Dietrich do it.’

Victor nodded too, wondering why Dietrich was allowed to take the limousine into the barn and he wasn’t.



Inside the farmhouse kitchen Francesca, Dietrich, Jaeger and Coughlin were waiting. Jaeger sat eating a sandwich, the rest stood around the table – Francesca closest to the door, the other two men at the far side, leaning against the countertop next to the sink. Dietrich’s arms were folded in front of his chest, defensive. Coughlin looked bored.

Francesca smiled. ‘The warriors return. All hail.’

She spoke while looking at Leeson, whose back instantly straightened in a rush of pride and arrogance. Francesca knew exactly how to play him.

‘My dear,’ he said, and embraced her.

Victor made sure not to make eye contact as she glanced his way.

‘Well?’ Dietrich spat.

Leeson released Francesca. ‘Do you want to tell the story, Mr Kooi, or shall I?’

‘Be my guest.’

‘Though first, Mr Dietrich, would you be so kind as to house the car in the barn?’ Dietrich nodded and Leeson handed him the keys as he passed. ‘And I think before I begin, a glass of vino is appropriate.’ Leeson motioned to Francesca. ‘Pop down to the cellar and fetch a bottle, there’s a good girl.’

Francesca nodded and smiled and left the kitchen. Victor got himself a glass of water. She returned after a minute and poured everyone a drink. Victor shook his head when she came to him.

Leeson waited until Dietrich had also returned before he recounted the events of the last few hours. He was a good natural orator, who did an excellent job of underplaying his own role just enough to encourage clarifications and enquiries for more details. Details he was only too happy to embellish under the veneer of false modesty.

Francesca gasped and exhaled at every chance and when Leeson had finished, said, ‘I didn’t know you had it in you, Robert,’ with wide-eyed rapture and a little excited clap of her hands. Leeson was a good orator, but Francesca was his perfect audience.

Jaeger nodded with raised eyebrows, reserved but impressed.

Dietrich and Coughlin were not.

‘So, His Majesty here pinged five of this crew, right?’ Dietrich asked, doubt creasing his forehead.

Leeson nodded. ‘That’s correct. Mr Kooi was truly formidable.’

‘He kills a bunch of amateurs and I’m supposed to be awed? Don’t think so.’

‘Your evaluation of the quality of the opposition is immaterial here. Had Mr Kooi not been present I would now be a corpse and you, Mr Dietrich, would be without an employer.’

Dietrich scowled. ‘There’s nothing this guy could have done that I couldn’t have myself. And easier. I wouldn’t have needed a civilian to help me get the job done over a bunch of amateurs.’

Victor tried – badly – to hide a laugh.

‘Got something to say, Your Majesty?’

Victor remained silent. But he smiled at Dietrich. Just a little smirk, but enough to further antagonise the man. There was nothing Victor could do to make Dietrich reverse his opinion of him, and there was a good chance they would eventually find themselves as enemies. Victor was happy to let Dietrich go into that potential future encounter with the disadvantage of genuine dislike and hatred.

Dietrich stared. ‘Too afraid to talk, are you?’

‘I’m afraid if I do I might use words you don’t understand.’

Dietrich took a step forward. ‘You won’t be talking so tough when I gut you and leave you in the basement for the rats to gnaw on.’

‘Good luck with that.’

Francesca laughed. ‘Such pathetic displays of testosterone-fuelled arrogance. Who are you both trying to impress besides each other? Because it’s not working.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Dietrich said.

She laughed again. ‘Do you think anyone cares who could have killed more or done so easier? Is that the only way you can measure yourself against him?’

‘Why don’t you shut the f*ck up?’

Her eyes widened.

‘Don’t talk to her like that,’ Victor said.

‘I’ll talk to her however I wish.’

‘Try again.’

Dietrich stared at him. ‘Mind your own business or maybe I’ll start minding yours.’

Victor stared back. ‘You say that like it actually means something.’

‘Better for you if you don’t find out what that something means.’

‘I can’t wait to find out.’

Dietrich smiled at that and inched away from the countertop. There were two metres between them. His back straightened and his fingers curled towards his palms. He was strong. He was dangerous. But he couldn’t hide what he was about to do if his life depended on it.

Which it did.

But Leeson saw what was coming and held out a hand. ‘Let’s leave this posturing right there, shall we? You are both valuable men to me in different areas. Whoever harms the other will lose that value. Do I make myself clear?’

Dietrich’s eyes were locked with Victor’s. Neither answered.

‘Well?’ Leeson asked. ‘Do I need to start looking for replacement personnel who will actually do as I ask?’

‘No,’ Victor said, because he knew Dietrich would rather fight to the death right there than answer first.

Dietrich smirked at him – satisfied at this perceived victory – and shook his head at Leeson.

‘Very good,’ Leeson said. ‘When you two are no longer in my employment you can settle your differences in whatever manner you see fit. For all I care you can beat one another until what remains is not enough to fill a bucket. But for now, you behave yourselves. If you cannot be respectful, be silent. And Mr Dietrich…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I don’t ever want to hear you speak to Francesca like that again. Apologise, immediately. And need I remind you of the potential consequences of such discourtesy?’

Dietrich stared for a moment until he did understand, then nodded. He looked at Francesca and said, ‘Sorry.’

‘Accepted.’

Coughlin, who had been silent since their return, asked, ‘How exposed are we?’

‘Minimally,’ Victor answered when Leeson didn’t right away. ‘The crew were competent enough not to have any ID on them or other identifiable evidence, so they are unlikely to have left an obvious trail elsewhere. The restaurant has Leeson’s name.’ He looked at Leeson. ‘But I assume that’s not a problem. The parking garage had CCTV, obviously, and the recordings will match witness descriptions from the restaurant, but there won’t be recordings of our faces.’

‘And how can you be so sure of that?’

‘Because I’m good at what I do.’

‘Then let’s hope you’re right, because you’ve left a trail of destruction through a city all of thirty miles from this position.’

‘Way to go, putting us all at risk,’ Dietrich added.

‘It’s not a problem,’ Victor said.

‘That remains to be seen,’ Coughlin said.

‘It’s not a problem,’ Leeson repeated after a moment’s thought. ‘We’re still good here,’ he said after another pause, and Victor wondered what conclusions he’d come to and why the involvement of the two of them in a firefight in the middle of Rome didn’t compromise whatever it was they were here for.