“Look, you’ve seen this guy’s capacity for revenge. You think being in a different prison is what’s gonna save you from him? No. If you’re going to live past tonight, you need to help me. And if you’re going to live after that, then you need Flex in the dirt.”
“Shit,” Herbert hissed, knowing that it was the truth. “Shit. What is it you need me to do?”
Morgan bundled Herbert into the back of the Focus. Already wounded, and with his wrists bound in tape, there was little Herbert could do to escape. A final piece of tape across his mouth had been enough to stifle the groans of pain—Morgan had not been gentle on the man.
The American scowled as he looked at the captive on the back seat behind him. In truth, he still had no concrete plan of how he would use Herbert to get to Flex.
Though it pained him to do so, Morgan knew he must take his foot off the gas, and allow thought to take over from action. He realized that the best place for him to do that would be in Private London’s headquarters, where he could draw on the minds of his agents.
As if his thoughts were being read, he saw a familiar name flash up on his phone’s caller ID. He took it on the second ring, his eyes in the car’s mirrors as he pulled out of the Wandsworth estate and headed toward London’s city center.
“Peter. I’m coming back to HQ. I’ll meet you there in ten.”
“No,” Flex’s voice answered him. “You won’t.”
Chapter 97
“DON’T DO IT,” a strange voice had said from outside of Peter Knight’s car, seeing his finger moving to redial. “I’ll put one in your head before your call goes through.”
Slowly, Knight had turned his head. He had not been surprised by what he’d seen, and had found himself looking into the barrel of a pistol. It was held by an ugly man in a dark hoody.
“You fuckin’ amateur,” the man had sneered. “Maybe you want to turn down the brightness of your phone next time you call in a sighting. Get out the car.”
Knight had obliged, furious with himself. The man was right—Knight had acted like an amateur. Thoughts of his children had clouded his mind, and on seeing Flex he had acted quickly, without thinking. Now that impulse would probably mean he would never see Luke or Isabel again.
“Flex is the only one who’s killed someone. You can get out of this if you turn him in.”
The ugly man had half smiled, as if he’d felt sorry for the Private agent in front of him. “You really should have stayed in the amateur leagues.”
Knight had heard a sound behind him. Then had come darkness.
He regained consciousness in the back of a van. His head covered, he had no concept of where he was or for how long he’d been unconscious. All he knew for certain was that he’d been abducted, and that he was in serious trouble.
The van stopped, and he felt the suspension move as a significant weight departed, opened the door and climbed into the rear. A second later, what must have been a meaty hand swiped Knight’s hooded head, sending it bouncing off the wooden floorboard.
“Are you awake?” Flex asked.
Knight said nothing. Flex hit him again. Already bruised from the hit he had taken in Mayoor Patel’s home, Knight gritted his teeth against the pain.
“I said, are you awake?”
“I’m awake,” Knight replied, tasting blood on his teeth. The hessian sacking of his hood smelled rank and musty as it pressed against his face.
“Morgan’s on the phone,” Flex told him. “Say hello.”
“Morgan?” Knight asked, raising his voice so that it would carry, “I—”
Flex finished the conversation for him, savagely punching Knight so that the man’s groans carried all the message needed. Then Flex stepped from the van’s rear doors and shut Knight alone in the confines of his misery.
Chapter 98
“STILL THERE, JACK?” Flex said, climbing back into the passenger seat and motioning for Rider to drive.
“I’m here,” Morgan growled down the phone. “Now what is it you want, Flex? You haven’t killed him. There must be a reason. How much do you want?”
“This isn’t about money, Jack. You should know that by now.”
“I’ll give you twenty million dollars.”
Flex laughed, but beside him Rider frowned, tuning into the conversation. Flex tried to silence the man’s piqued interest with a hard look, but it didn’t work.
“This isn’t about money,” Flex said again, as much for Rider’s benefit as for Morgan’s. “The reason he’s still alive is that I want to kill him slowly. And I want you to know all about it, Jack. I want you to see it. I want you to hear it. I want you to feel it. I don’t like my chances of getting you alive, but he’s close enough for what I’ve got planned. You I can deal with later.”
“Why wait?” Morgan asked. “Deliver Knight unhurt, and you can have me. You can have your fun with me.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, you dickhead.”
There was a moment of silence on the line. Flex felt Rider’s scowl—the man clearly unhappy that ￡20 million had been so quickly dismissed.
“Talk to him about the money,” the ugly man urged, only shutting up when Flex strained against his seat belt like an angry pit bull.
“Well, if we’ve got nothing more to talk about, Jack—”
“How do you like loose ends, Flex? Because I’ve got one of yours in the car with me, and he’s about to get dropped at Private HQ.”
“Bollocks,” Flex snorted.
“His name’s Chris Herbert,” Morgan announced, giving away the details of how, and where, he had taken the man. Flex’s face grew more angry with each piece of information. “He’s ready to roll on you. You may kill Knight, you may kill me, but this is solid evidence against you, Flex. You’ll be on the run for the rest of your life.”
It took every measure of Flex’s self-control not to dash the phone to pieces. He had never expected to stay in the UK after enacting his revenge, but there was a big difference between being a suspect who quietly slipped off the radar leaving only theories and no evidence, and one of the culprits testifying to his guilt.
“Fuck!” he finally shouted, losing the battle with his rage and the synthetic testosterone that coursed through his body. “I’ll give you your man back once you put a bullet in that useless bastard’s brain!”
“Do your own dirty work,” Morgan replied, the sounds of a panic-stricken Herbert coming from behind him as he strained against the tape on his mouth. “Herbert for Knight.”
“Done,” Flex spat. “Be in central London. The meet will be at zero five thirty.”
He didn’t need to tell Morgan that he’d hold back the location of that meeting place until the last minute.
“Make it public,” Morgan told him. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 99
JACK MORGAN SPENT the wait in an industrial area of Battersea, placing him close to central London’s many bridges, the Ford Focus pulled to the curb alongside steel fencing and litter.
“Flex wants me to put a bullet in your head and dump you.” Morgan eyed the trash on the roadside.
Herbert tried to speak through the tape. His eyes had calmed, and they pleaded with Morgan to let him talk.
“Don’t speak,” Morgan told him. “Just listen.”
The man ceased his movement and stifled words.
“You realize there’s a chance Flex just puts a bullet in us both the moment we arrive?”
Herbert nodded.
“I have an idea, but you have to play your part.”
The man raised his eyebrows.
“You’ll find out when we get there. Just do as I say. Flex is who I want, understand?”