The Red Cobra (James Ryker #1)

‘What? But–’

‘How many accesses to the loft?’ Ryker asked, standing on the landing and looking up at a hatch above his head.

‘Three,’ Green said. ‘That’s the main one. The only one with a direct access, a retractable ladder. No way she was up there, it would have been too noisy bringing that ladder down. Have you heard that thing?’

‘And the other two?’ Ryker asked.

‘A hatch in the master bedroom. Inside the wardrobes. But it doesn’t go into the full roof space. Just a cubbyhole for storage. Not big enough to fit a person.’

‘And the third?’

‘In here,’ Green said, turning around and walking along the landing.

He opened a set of doors that led into a linen cupboard. He pointed upwards, and Ryker looked at the small hatch. It was no more than a foot square. Ryker seriously doubted he could fit through there. But the Red Cobra?

‘I don’t know why it’s there,’ Green said. ‘Maybe access to pipes or electrics.’

‘Didn’t you check it? Last night?’

‘Of course,’ Green said. ‘But it’s sealed shut. I tried to open it but it’s been glued or painted in place.’

Ryker pushed past Green and climbed onto the first shelf inside the cupboard so he could reach the ceiling. He pushed the hatch. It lifted up in his hand. Inside was an empty storage space, no bigger than a cubic yard. Electrical wires snaked along one of the walls. Ryker looked down at Green who gawped in disbelief. His cheeks turned red.

‘It didn’t move,’ Green said, as though trying to convince himself as much as the others. ‘I tried it myself.’

Ryker shook his head. ‘She was already in there. Probably sat on the damn thing when she heard you moving around, so that it wouldn’t open.’

‘I can’t... but–’

‘And now we know why Cardo was pushed over the edge of that ravine,’ Ryker said, climbing down.

‘Time,’ Green said, finally getting it.

‘Yes. Which is what I suspected. I just didn’t know why.’

‘She didn’t want the police swarming this place to protect Walker straight away.’

‘She needed time to get from that hotel and over here into position first. By hiding Cardo’s body, she knew she was buying time before his murder was called in. Enough time to get over here, sneak in and lay low before we secured the damn place.’

‘She was here the whole time,’ Green said again as though he still couldn’t fathom it. ‘She could have killed us. She could have killed us all.’

‘She could have, but she didn’t.’

Five minutes later, the men were sat back in the kitchen. Green and Munroe were clearly shocked that the Red Cobra had been so close to them and they’d known nothing of it. But they didn’t need to be scared. Not unless they were hiding something. The Red Cobra was after Walker, not them.

Ryker kept coming back to the same point. Why hadn't she just taken the opportunity to kill Walker? Twice she’d been in the house. Twice she’d left without a scalp. Ryker could think of two reasons. First, Walker wasn’t a target. Yes, she’d attacked Walker, she’d left that note. But was it simply a clue, a message as to her real intention? The note certainly wasn’t a direct threat against Walker’s life.

The second reason was that the Red Cobra needed Ryker’s help. Whatever she had planned, she can’t have been sure she could see it through alone.

Either way, Ryker wasn’t scared, not like these two were. He was simply impressed at the tactical move she’d made, and slightly embarrassed not to have figured it out sooner. Hiding in plain sight. They’d never once suspected she was already in the house, lying in wait. More fool them.

Ryker downed the rest of his coffee which was by then only lukewarm. ‘It’s time I got going,’ Ryker said, looking at his watch. It was nearly eight a.m.

‘Going? Going where?’ Green asked worriedly.

Ryker debated for a moment whether to let Green in on his plans. In the end, he decided against it.

‘I’m going to try and save your skins,’ Ryker winked at Green then headed for the door. ‘You can thank me later.’





CHAPTER 48


The Sunday morning traffic was light on the motorway as Ryker made his way from Casa de las Rosas into central Malaga. The hotel he’d stayed at when arriving in Spain was his first stop. He wasn’t staying long though. As much as he felt he could do with some more rest, given the rude awakening he’d had in the middle of the night, now was hardly the time for sleeping. But he did want to pick up his belongings. His money. His passports. He didn’t know when he’d again be getting a restful night in the hotel so there was little point in leaving his few valuables there.

After checking out of the hotel, for which he paid in cash, Ryker made the short trip through the painful one-way system of the city towards the apartment block where Miguel Ramos lived. It was less than two miles from the hotel but took nearly thirty minutes, the irksome journey only adding to Ryker’s fractious mood, which wasn’t helped by the fact he’d barely slept the night before following the Red Cobra’s attack.

Ryker left his car in the closest public car park he could find – the cramped city streets left little room for on-street parking – then headed on foot to the apartment block. He didn't know the city well but from what he’d already seen, it had the distinctive enclaves of most large urban centres. The old town centre, packed with tapas bars and restaurants that spilled onto the streets, shops and charming buildings, churches and museums, was pleasant and extensive enough to draw in the locals and throngs of tourists. But the real life and soul of the city lay in the mainstay residential areas that sprawled out into the distance.

The area Ramos lived in was a far cry from the charming historic centre, despite its geographic proximity. It certainly wasn’t poverty-stricken but the many apartment buildings were all block-like, nondescript. The buildings weren’t in serious disrepair but the large cracks and blemishes in their rendered walls – some finished in white, some yellow, others red, blue – showed they were in need of better care. Quite a contrast to the ostentatious wealth Ryker had seen on display just a few miles west in Marbella.

The dirtied-yellow building that Ryker walked up to had an arched passageway that led into a central open-air foyer. There was no security of any kind, no guards or concierge. The inside was tidy and clean. Ryker headed to the tiled staircase.

An old woman approached. She carried a walking stick in her hand and wore a long skirt and woollen jumper that Ryker couldn’t fathom given the heat that was already building. She made eye contact with Ryker as she passed. He smiled at her. She just glared at him warily then carried on her way.

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