The Red Cobra (James Ryker #1)

Ryker caught a taxi back to Walker’s house to pick up his car. He took the opportunity to call Lisa. He’d sent her a text message the previous evening shortly after landing, but hadn’t spoken to her since leaving her at home almost three days earlier.

In the nearly twelve months they’d been living together, he hadn’t been away from Lisa for more than a few hours, and he was missing her. But the fact was, he was still getting used to being in a meaningful relationship. He loved Lisa, he really did. Hell, look at how he’d fought for her, the things he’d done, the people who’d been hurt and killed while he saved her from the clutches of the FSB, the CIA, and the JIA who were all gunning for her. In doing so, he’d salvaged a life for them both. But still, the nuances and expectations of being in an adult relationship were alien to Ryker.

He felt bad for not having called her sooner, but he’d quickly become engrossed in the job. His work had been his life for so many years and it was a hard habit to break – even though he was no longer an official JIA agent, and never would be again.

It was more than that, though. He’d been distracted by the resurgence of old memories of the Red Cobra. And as he dialled he felt a pang of guilt over that.

As it was, the call went unanswered – the large time difference not helping, she was probably sleeping. Ryker left a brief voice mail before putting the phone away and getting his mind back on track.

When he arrived at Casa de las Rosas, the maid opened the front gates to let Ryker in. He hopped into his car without seeing or speaking to Walker and drove the short distance back down to the coastal road, then headed west and on to Marbella – one of the wealthiest and most fashionable areas of Andalusia.

Marbella – largely overrun by non-Spanish – was a town awash with fast cars, luxury boats and expensive playboy pads. Walker’s wealth was one thing, but what Ryker saw in Marbella was on another level. At least Walker seemed to have some taste to go with his money. His house was glorious and sympathetic to the surroundings. Or maybe that had been Kim’s doing. Much of what Ryker saw in Marbella, though, was simply money without sense.

Ryker headed toward the address Green had given him, using his mobile phone’s GPS map to guide him. The exclusive housing complex was located on a small stretch of coastline where several huge mansions stood directly in front of the beach. The gated entrance to the estate was manned by two security guards. Ryker didn’t want to go in that way. He could only assume that the whole area beyond the gates was covered by CCTV cameras too.

Ryker drove on for a couple of minutes and parked his car on the road next to a half-built run of apartments that looked as though it had been mothballed. Huge signs proudly displayed the site as being one of the finest luxury spots on the sunlit coast. The grey breeze-block shells of the reality were a far cry from the artist’s colourful impressions. Ryker had noticed several similarly abandoned developments already on his short stay in Andalusia – clear evidence of the recent bust that had followed the boom.

Ryker headed on foot to the beach, then traipsed across the soft sand back towards the millionaires’ row. Or was it billionaires’?

The beach was secluded, quiet. Other than two joggers and a dog-walker there wasn’t a soul in sight. The Costa del Sol was vast and although numerous pockets of it were heavily built-up and the beaches routinely crammed, it wasn’t difficult to find quieter stretches like this one.

Ryker held out his phone, using its precise GPS tracking to locate the house he was looking for. It was monstrous with a stone-effect finish, and ten sets of windows stretched across each of the home’s three floors. Large columns gave the building an old-world colonial appearance, though it seemed from the immaculate condition of the stonework, and the finish of neighbouring properties, that the house was almost brand new.

Satisfied that he wasn’t being observed from the beach, Ryker moved toward the house and scaled the small wall that separated the landscaped gardens from the sand.

Keeping low as he moved between bushes and trees, Ryker approached the back of the property, looking for any signs of life as he went. He saw none: no pool cleaner or gardener or anyone else around. All the doors and windows were shut tight. The glare from the sun made it difficult to see what lay beyond the many panes of glass, and it was possible that someone was sitting a few yards inside the house, watching Ryker’s every move, but the thought didn’t deter him.

Ryker continued moving, as stealthily as he could. He came up against the back corner of the house, then he slid along the wall. He approached the first set of windows, beyond which he could make out a large home office. Neat bookshelves were crammed with old tomes. In contrast, the large desk that sat in the middle of the room was scattered with loose papers. Ryker kept on moving.

Next he came upon a grand sitting room, then an open-plan kitchen diner that looked to be about the size of Ryker’s entire house. As well as a large window in the kitchen, the dining area had a set of bi-fold doors leading out into the back garden. Ryker tried the handle. Locked. Not a problem: the type of lock was one of the simplest to pick.

Ryker was reaching into his trouser pocket for the small torsion wrench and picks that he’d brought with him when he suddenly spotted movement inside the house.

A figure walked into the kitchen, initially none-the-wiser to Ryker’s presence. Eva. She was red-faced, dressed in a skin-tight running top and shorts, and bright green trainers. Ryker was about to scuttle away, out of sight of the window, when she looked up.

She saw Ryker immediately. For a split second, a look of panic swept across her face. Then came a knowing smile. Ryker relaxed and Eva moved toward him, released the lock and opened the door. A waft of pleasantly cool air escaped.

‘You again,’ she said in English. Her foreign accent was barely recognisable.

‘I was hoping you were home.’

‘You were? The easiest way to find out would have been to knock on the front door.’

‘I prefer to catch people off guard.’

‘Yes, I get that impression about you. Why are you here?’

‘We need to talk.’

‘About what?’

‘About the man you’re sleeping with. And why someone would murder his wife.’





CHAPTER 18


‘Come in,’ Eva said. She stepped to the side and Ryker walked into the house, scanning the opulent expanse in front of him.

He’d rarely seen such an overt display of wealth. Marble covered both the floor and the seemingly never-ending worktops in the kitchen. Sleek chrome appliances glistened. A large chandelier dangled overhead in the dining area above a grand table that would probably seat a couple of dozen people. Large artworks hung on the walls and expensive-looking ornaments did their best to further fill the extensive space.

‘Nice place,’ Ryker said, not entirely convincingly.

‘Who are you?’ Eva said.

Ryker turned to face her. She was breathing heavily and her face and top were wet with sweat.

‘Good workout?’

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