CHAPTER 19
Ryker had learned little of substance from his escapade to the Kozlov residence. What he did know was that everyone knew more than they were telling. Kozlov and Walker were in bed together, in a manner of speaking. Both were rich men, developers. Eva was quite literally in bed with Walker, sleeping with her father’s business partner. And Walker’s wife had been murdered.
Ryker was barely scratching the surface but there was already a lot about the situation, the relationship between those four people, that Ryker didn’t like. So far no one had welcomed Ryker’s presence. Nor did they seem genuinely enthused at the prospect of getting to the bottom of Kim Walker’s murder.
If they had something to hide, neither Walker nor Kozlov appeared particularly afraid or even perturbed by Ryker’s sudden appearance on the scene. Both were arrogant and cool men, certainly, and both had the weight of an expensive legal team behind them – apparently – but still their actions suggested something else to Ryker: that they thought they were above the law. And in Ryker’s experience, there were only a few reasons why people would come to believe that.
Ryker headed back to his car. The few minutes inside the air-conditioned Kozlov mansion had cooled him nicely, but by the time he neared his vehicle, with the heat of the afternoon sun on his back, he was a sweaty sodden mess again. Together with his tiredness from the long haul travel and lack of a good night’s sleep, he felt rotten and made his mind up to call the day short and head back to his hotel.
He was five yards from his car when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Ryker took it out and saw he had a missed call and a text message from Lisa, apologising for not answering his earlier call. Ryker was about to hit the button to ring her back when movement ahead caught his eye. He looked up and spotted two men ahead of him. His instincts screamed: the men didn’t belong there.
Both men were tall, broad-shouldered. One was wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt that bulged from the muscles underneath. He was olive skinned with jet black locks of hair that fell around his face. The other man – older, fairer skinned with a heavily lined face and an army style buzz-cut – wore a jacket. A crazy choice of clothing given the heat. Perhaps that was normal for some of the hardened locals, but this guy didn’t look much of a local. And Ryker could think of only one good reason someone would choose such clothing: concealment.
The men walked toward Ryker with purpose, their lips moving as they murmured instructions to each other. Ryker held his ground, waiting to see what would happen. His initial suspicion was confirmed a couple of seconds later when the man on the left – Buzzcut – reached into his jacket and brought out a foot-long monkey wrench. These two were hardly out for a quiet afternoon stroll.
The men were more than ten yards from Ryker. He could rush for his car and hope he had the speed to get inside, fire up the engine and race off into the distance before they accosted him. Unlikely.
Then there was the other option. The one Ryker chose. It’d been a long time since he’d been out in the field. Nearly a year had passed by since he and Lisa had ended their previous lives and headed off into the sunset. Ryker was rusty. Perhaps these two lumps would provide some much-needed practice.
Ryker caught the eye of the black-haired man – Rambo. The look on his face told Ryker he was the leader. It wasn’t clear whether he was armed. He could have been carrying a knife or a gun stuffed behind his back. Ryker was sure he'd soon find out the answer.
He looked up and down the street. It was quiet, but still this was no place for what was to come. It would only take one random passerby to scupper Ryker’s plans. He needed space. He needed time. He had to find out who these men were, why they’d been sent there, and by whom. Kozlov was Ryker’s immediate guess but he wasn’t ruling out other possibilities.
Ryker moved purposefully off to his right, towards the derelict construction site. He spotted the two men stop – obviously contemplating their next move. Ryker didn’t hesitate to see what they chose . He strode up to the rickety metal fence that ran around the site and hauled himself up and over, then moved off toward the not-so-glorious holiday homes.
The row of apartments were in various states of build. At the near end the concrete and brick shells were almost complete, just awaiting a render finish, interior stud walls, plastering, doors, windows. At the far side they were in a much earlier stage of construction with nothing more than concrete pads, out of which hundreds of rusted steel rods protruded haphazardly into the air.
Ryker moved with purpose to the near side, where the more complete buildings gave better cover. He glanced behind, confirming that the men had followed him inside the complex, then moved around the back of the buildings and in through the front doorway of one. He pulled up on the inside wall and readied himself.
From there he had a good view through the apartment to a small window at the back which gave a glimpse of where Ryker had come from. And if the men chose to come at him from the opposite side, snaking around the far side of the buildings, he’d spot them coming a mile off: in front of him was a clear view to the front along the whole run of apartments – at least a hundred yards.
Ryker spotted Rambo first. He was alone, edging around the same way Ryker had gone. And Ryker had been right about his choice of weapon. A handgun. Black. Looked to be a Glock. Ryker was pleased about that. He didn’t like not being armed on the job and was grateful for the opportunity Rambo was about to present him.
Ryker ducked down and held tight, waiting for Rambo to approach. Ryker strained his hearing for any indication of the man’s movement. He heard nothing. Ryker wondered whether Rambo had stopped moving, or even gone back on himself.
But then, with Ryker staring out into the open, he spotted the slightest shadow appear in the doorway in front of him. Just an inch.
It was gone again a split second later. This guy wasn’t dumb, he’d at least spotted his error. But it was too late to take it back. Ryker now knew exactly where he was.
As stealthily as he could, Ryker moved across the room to the bare concrete staircase and ascended to the first floor, hoping Rambo was quietly waiting for his friend to catch up before springing an attack.
On the first floor, there was a gaping hole in the breeze-block construction. Ryker assumed an impressive floor-to-ceiling window had been planned, to take advantage of the stunning sea views. It was exactly what Ryker needed. He crept to the edge and carefully peered down below. Sure enough, Rambo was right there, pressed up against the wall, waiting for his moment of attack.
But still no sign of Buzzcut. Where was he?