Ryker checked around him and found the small slat of wood that he’d hidden beneath foliage. He used the slat to edge the corner of the window open at its weakest spot, then tugged sharply to snap the thin clasps which sat along the inner edges of the frame. The window opened two inches, enough to allow Ryker to release the handle. He pulled the window further open then slunk through the small space, slithering silently like a snake passing over rocks.
He crept forward to the shower, removed the weapon, and gave it a once-over. No problems. Moving with caution, he headed to the partially open door.
Ryker stole a glance before moving out into the bedroom, creeping in silence. His breathing was deep and calm, not even a murmur escaping his lips as he slowly inhaled and exhaled.
When he reached the bedroom doorway, he stood and waited. Listened. Nothing. No sound of movement from within his home. No sounds at all. He cautiously peered out over the open-plan space in front of him, index finger on the gun’s trigger.
Ryker spotted the solitary figure, casually sitting in an armchair. And he relaxed. A little.
Gun still held out, but the feeling of threat somewhat diminished, Ryker moved out from behind the door and toward the man. ‘You,’ he said.
The man looked up. Certainly he wasn’t the last person Ryker expected to see. In fact, of all the people who might have come looking for Ryker, this man – Peter Winter – was one of the most welcome. And least threatening.
‘Ah, you’re back.’ Winter got to his feet, a knowing smile on his face.
In his late thirties, Winter was similar in age to Ryker, and a similar height too at over six feet, but he was fresh-faced and scrawny and he had a knowing confidence that had often riled Ryker in the past.
‘How did you get in here?’ Ryker quizzed, the tone of his voice making it clear the visit wasn’t welcome. He continued to hold the gun out, pointed at the visitor. He didn’t believe Winter was an immediate threat, but he’d been through enough to know he couldn’t trust anyone one hundred percent.
Winter nodded over to the front door. ‘Not the same way you did, clearly. Good to see you’re still on your toes though.’
‘You’ve got no right coming into my home like this.’
Winter hesitated for a second. Ryker’s forthright tone and the fact he was still pointing a fully-loaded gun at Winter’s face had, Ryker could see, drained some of the confidence and ease from his former boss – a Commander at the secretive Joint Intelligence Agency where, in another life, Ryker had worked for nearly twenty years.
‘I’m not a threat,’ Winter assured him.
‘No. You’re not. If you were you’d have a bullet between your eyes already. How did you find me?’
‘By doing my job. Though I have to say, it wasn’t easy. You’ve covered your tracks well. Ryker? That’s your name now, right?’
‘That’s what my passport says.’
‘German?’
‘British.’
‘No, I mean the name, not your passport. It’s of German origin, isn’t it? From the German word for rich.’
‘If you say so,’ Ryker said, not hiding his disinterest in the analysis.
‘Almost seems ironic given what you left behind to come here.’
‘I figured I didn’t really need your money.’
‘You could have just told me that instead of disappearing.’
‘If I recall correctly, Ryker was also the name of a commander on Star Trek. So maybe the irony’s aimed at you, Commander.’
Winter huffed sarcastically. ‘That wouldn’t be irony, more of a taunt.’
Winter may have once been Ryker’s boss, but Ryker had never looked upon him as a superior. For starters, Winter had only assumed the role through default when the incumbent – Ryker’s long-time mentor – had been murdered outside a cafe in Omsk, Russia.
‘We set up a nice life for you,’ Winter said. ‘I’m not sure why you didn’t take it.’ He looked around the space he was standing in, turning his nose up at what he saw. ‘You certainly could have afforded a nicer place than this.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with this place. And I don’t need your money. Or you forever watching me.’
‘We gave you a new identity. A fresh start. We were helping you. Protecting you.’
‘Your idea was to keep me on a short leash should you ever need me. I’m sorry, but my idea of freedom is something different.’
Winter smiled. ‘So that’s what this is? Freedom?’
‘It’s the closest I’ve ever come.’
‘You’re partially right. I did always wonder whether I’d need you again. A man of your... skills is hard to come by.’
Ryker finally lowered his gun and stuffed it into his trousers’ waistband. ‘The answer’s no.’
Winter sat and looked pensively at Ryker for a few seconds. Ryker didn’t move, just waited for Winter to say what he’d come to say.
‘Look, Logan... Abbott, Ryker, whatever the hell your name is this week, I know you don’t want me here. I know you think you’ve earned your freedom. The right to live a life away from what you once were. But I never promised that. And I know deep down you never believed it. Part of me wonders whether you even want it.’
‘You know nothing about what I want or what I am.’
‘But I do. I’ve known you a long time. And you can’t just run away from who you are.’
‘It’s not me I’m running from.’
‘You sure about that? This isn’t a life. Hiding away like this, forever looking over your shoulder. And it’s not you. But I’m not going to sit here and try to convince you of that.’
‘Good. So I guess you’ll be leaving then.’
Winter got to his feet, and Ryker stepped to one side, giving his ex-boss a clear path to the front door.
‘But let me say this one thing,’ Winter added. ‘I found you. And you know I’m not the only person looking. I know you think you can deal with whatever or whoever is out there gunning for you, and I can guarantee you’ll give anyone who threatens you a damn good run for their money.’
‘Very flattering, Winter.’
‘Okay, look. This is beside the point. My real point is that I do still need you, Ryker.’
‘I won’t do it.’
‘Hear me out, please.’ Winter reached inside his jacket and Ryker couldn’t help but tense as he waited. The last thing he was expecting was for Winter to draw a weapon, but he could never rule it out. In the end, Winter’s hand emerged clutching some papers.
‘You know,’ Winter said. ‘You’re not the only person in the deep, dark world who wanted to get away from it all, who wanted to leave their past behind.’
Ryker raised an eyebrow.
‘I need your help, Ryker. It’s as simple as that.’
‘My help to do what?’
‘It’s about the Red Cobra.’
Winter stopped speaking and stared at Ryker. Ryker opened and closed his mouth, searching for the right words to describe the confusion that suddenly enveloped his mind.
The Red Cobra. A name from the past. A name forever burned into his memory. A rival, of sorts. A lover, more than once.
In the end, Ryker said nothing.
‘You remember her?’
‘Of course.’
‘We’ve found her.’
Ryker tried to betray no emotion, but Winter had him. Of all the possible bombshells, this had to be one of the biggest.
‘Where?’ Ryker asked.
‘In Spain.’