At midnight, Ryker took the opportunity to get some rest in the downstairs library where they’d earlier dragged some mattresses from the many guest bedrooms. He was alone in the room – a twenty-foot square that had two walls of floor-to-ceiling bookcases crammed with books and ornaments of various shapes and sizes.
The other men in the house were all on edge, clearly not used to being in such a dangerous situation. Ryker, on the other hand, was calm. He tried calling Lisa, but like earlier in the day, he got no answer. He left her another voicemail, a slight feeling of anxiety seeping into him as he questioned why it was becoming so hard to reach her. Was she really safe out there on her own? Winter had already found them. What if someone else had come looking too.
Barely two minutes later, Lisa called back and Ryker answered immediately. ‘Where are you? Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, of course. Why?’
‘I don’t know, I just thought... nothing.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I thought maybe you’d gone sightseeing or something.’
He knew she’d understand his words: Sightseeing Or Something: SOS. Given their lives on the run, they’d long before decided on numerous SOS word combinations to allow them to alert the other discreetly should they ever be in danger.
Lisa laughed. ‘No. I was taking a shower. Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah. It’s fine. It’s nice to hear your voice.’
‘I miss you. It’s so quiet here.’
‘I know. I miss you too.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘It’s late here. I need to get some sleep.’
‘Maybe next time we can chat properly.’
‘Maybe next time I’ll be home already.’
‘I hope so.’
They said their goodbyes and within seconds of lying down on the bare mattress, Ryker was asleep. He dreamt of Lisa. In the dream, they were having sex – bizarrely, in Andrei Kozlov’s sumptuous bedroom. Ryker was lying on the giant bed, with Lisa’s naked, supple body riding on top of him. It was one of those dreams from which Ryker didn’t want to wake up. So when he felt something cold press onto his neck, when his eyes suddenly shot open, for a split second he felt abject disappointment.
But only for a split second. Because that’s all it took for Ryker to figure out what was happening.
The room was dark. Not black. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, but the spotlights from the garden outside – usually tripped only by movement – had been set to stay on through the night and the glow from them seeped into the room through the thin curtains. It was enough light for Ryker to make out the black-clad figure that was sat on top of him on the mattress. And with the vivid and colourful images of Lisa’s naked body quickly fading, there was no mistaking the feeling of the object that was on Ryker’s neck.
Cold metal. A knife.
The figure wore a mask. Ryker couldn't see the face, but he knew who it was.
The Red Cobra held a finger up to her lips. Ryker remained still, though he was fuming.
‘Don’t call for help,’ she whispered.
Her smooth voice sent a shock of memories through Ryker’s mind. Where moments earlier he’d been dreaming of Lisa on top of him, he now had a flash of the Red Cobra, Anna Abayev, in Lisa’s place, back in the hotel in Berlin where they’d shared a bed.
‘It’s good to see you, Carl.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Then take the knife away from my throat.’
She did so, pulling the blade down by her side.
‘What do you want?’ Ryker asked again.
‘You can live. Or you can die. Time to make your choice.’
‘I’m not dying tonight.’
‘Then help me.’
‘Help you to do what?’
She leaned forward, moving to a few inches from Ryker’s face. When she spoke, he could feel her breath on his cheek. It made him shiver.
‘Kill them all.’ Her whisper was barely audible, somehow adding to the power of her words.
The Red Cobra moved back upright. She took off her mask. If there had been even a sliver of doubt in Ryker’s mind about whether it really was her, it disappeared in that instant. He could never forget that face.
Years had passed since Ryker had last seen the Red Cobra. He’d often wondered what had become of her, about how differently their meeting each other could have ended, and whether he could have helped her. Mostly, he wondered why she hadn’t killed him when she’d had the chance.
Strangely, it was good to see her face. Reassuring. The Red Cobra gave Ryker a knowing smile. She opened her mouth to speak. She never got the chance.
The Red Cobra’s appearance hadn’t changed. She was still pretty, and it was clear her body was still lithe and toned. And lightweight. Ryker grabbed hold of her wrist and thrust an arm around her back, pinning her to him, then sprang up from the mattress, the Red Cobra wrapped around him still. He drove forward, carrying her with him, and slammed her into the bookshelves.
The crushing impact knocked the wind out of her. Her body was suspended in the air, held in place against the shelves by Ryker’s weight. He crashed her hand onto the wooden shelves behind. On the third impact, the knife fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor.
Ryker looked into her eyes. For a second, he had a moment of doubt as she stared back at him. He imagined himself kissing her. Her kissing him back. How she tasted.
Then Winter’s words burrowed into his mind: You see her, you kill her. Don’t even think about it.
Ryker brought up his forearm, then pushed it into the Red Cobra’s neck and began choking her.
It only took a few seconds for panic to sweep across her face. She clawed at Ryker’s arm and flailed at him with her fists, then tried to punch him in the side. For all her mastery in the art of killing, she was simply no match for Ryker’s strength.
But Ryker was too angry at the situation he’d found himself in. With Walker. With Eva. With the Red Cobra – not just in Spain but in Germany all those years earlier.
Anger clouded his judgment. The man who’d first met the Red Cobra wouldn’t have made such a mistake. Long before, Ryker – Carl Logan – had been taught not to fight with anger. He’d learned to control it. Anger wasn’t needed for the mechanic operative he’d become for the JIA.
But he wasn’t that man now. He was James Ryker.
With Ryker distracted by his own determination to choke the life from the Red Cobra, she swept her arm up and sprayed him in the face. He knew immediately what she’d used: pepper spray.
The pressurised liquid burst onto Ryker’s skin and into his eyes. In an instant, it felt like his face was on fire, like his skin was melting, his eyelids bubbling and boiling. He couldn’t see a thing.
Ryker couldn’t hold on. He let go, stepped back, and heard the Red Cobra thud to the ground. He shouted out as the pain in his face consumed him. He still couldn’t see, but he poised for the attack he knew was to come.
He wasn’t up against an amateur, though. This was the Red Cobra. Only luck would have seen him block the unseen attack. It seemed he was all out. The blow from the Red Cobra to the back of his head caught Ryker unaware. He hadn’t heard a sound from her as she’d moved behind him.
Unable to muster a response, Ryker collapsed to the floor.
CHAPTER 44