“Jawohl! Yes, sir. I drove Grady and the body to the quarry, under his directions. It was not a place I had visited before. He said it would be deserted at that time in the evening, but when we removed ... the body from the car, a dog barked.”
“The mutt you shot?”
“Ja. That’s correct. A woman of middle-age, maybe forty, was walking her dog around the lake. It was brown and white, and stood about so high.” He raised his hand about two and a half feet from the carpet.
“This ain’t Crufts, fuckwit. I don’t give a damn how big the fucking dog was. Get on with it!”
Teddy jerked his hand and some of the expensive whisky spilled onto his fingers. He licked them clean. Strike one for the Kraut. Any more and he was out. This wasn’t baseball. No second or third strikes in his organisation.
“Grady yelled at me to get her. He can’t run with his bad knees and one of us had to guard the body. So I gave chase.”
“How far away was this old bird?”
“Across the lake on the other bank. No more than thirty metres straight across.”
“So this little old lady was only a few yards away, but she was too fast for you and you let her escape?”
Teddy squeezed the glass so hard, he worried it might shatter in his fist.
“It was not like that, Mr Tedesco. Thirty metres in a straight line, but the shore was curved and she ran into the woods. I tried running straight, but the wasser was too deep and so, I had to run around. The woman was faster I expected, but I was gaining upon her.”
“And you had a gun, right?”
“Yes, sir. I was close enough to shoot her without missing when the dog attacked. Vicious. Look!” He rolled up his shirt sleeve and showed the bandage covering his forearm. “I shot the animal in the chest, but it landed on me. Took me down to the ground. By the time I threw it off, the woman had disappeared. It was dark and pouring rain, and I had no taschenlampe, ah, flashlight. And then I heard a car engine start up and roar away.
“All this time, Grady was yelling at me to come back, so I picked up the dog and carried her back to the car.”
“You took the dog?”
“Yes, sir. I thought it best not to leave any evidence. You know, the bullet in the animal?”
Teddy took another sip. Collecting the dog showed initiative. The Kraut had just earned back his first strike. He might have earned himself the chance of a reprieve, too. Although it was too early to tell.
“Also,” Schechter continued, growing more confident, his voice firmer, “the rain was very heavy. Heavy enough to obscure our tracks, I thought. And there was one other thing, Mr Tedesco.”
“Which was?”
“The dog was in good condition. Despite the rain, I could tell it was professionally-groomed. Properly-looked after. Expensive collar.”
“So?”
For the first time since his arrival, Schechter’s shoulders relaxed. A smile stretched his thin lips. He reached into his pocket. Timothy and Ginger stiffened and started moving forward, but Teddy raised his glass and shook his head to settle them back. In his other hand, the one not holding the tumbler, he gripped a Sig Saur P226—the weapon of choice for the US military. Teddy would never be without it and, with Schechter on the other side of the desk, a distance of less than two metres, he wasn’t going to miss.
Despite the state-of-the-art gizmos protecting his office, the body scanners, the x-ray and infra-red cameras, the metal detectors, and the other electronic countermeasures, Teddy was never one to drop his guard. Too many high ranking ‘businessmen’ had grown lazy thinking they were Teflon coated and died as a result. Well, not Teddy Tedesco. Nobody was going to catch him with his trousers around his ankles.
The Kraut’s hand came out of the pocket holding a white plastic disk, no bigger than the lid of a jam jar.
“If that’s a bomb …”
Teddy set the tumbler on the coaster, racked the Sig and pointed it at the Schechter’s head. The Kraut’s eyes bulged.
“No, sir. It’s a microchip reader. I thought it a possibility the dog had been microchipped and bought this device at a pet shop this morning.”
With his thumb, Teddy pressed the gun’s de-cocker to lower the hammer and make the weapon safe, but he kept it in plain view and Schechter’s eyes stayed locked on the muzzle. Hardly a surprise. Teddy’d been on the wrong end of a gun a few times in his life and there were few things in the world more terrifying than seeing the black hole in front of you, especially when it was held by a nut job with evil in his heart.
“And was it?”
“Chipped? Yes, sir,” Schechter said, drawing his eyes back to Teddy. “It was, and I now have the name and address of the owner.”
He turned the scanner to let Teddy read the screen:
Mrs Angela Shafer. #3 Railway Cottages, Goldfield, Hants.
Teddy nodded and allowed himself a smile. The kid had done well. Saved his own life even if it did upset Timothy, who looked as though someone had opened his last Christmas present by mistake. Not to worry, Teddy’d be able to feed the murder monkey someone else soon enough. There were always plenty of people around who tried to put one over on Teddy Tedesco. So far, none had succeeded. At least, not for long.
“Nice one, Schechter. What’s your first name? Grady told me you were smart, but never gave me your full name.”
“Hardy, sir,” Schechter said, swallowing after Teddy slid the Sig into his top drawer. “My mother named me after the actor, Hardy Kruger. She had a girlhood crush on him.”
“That’s enough of the back story, son. Don’t get too comfortable. You’re still a fuck-up. All you’ve done with that”—he pointed at the scanner—“is bought yourself a little grace period.”
The grin fell from Schechter’s face.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“I assume the old biddy went screaming to the filth?”
Schechter worked a finger between his shirt collar and his neck and pulled. Fucker must have found it difficult to breathe in such a tight collar and tie. Well, sod him. He needed to show some respect and all Teddy’s employees knew the dress code. Professional attire at all times. The Kraut should have bought a shirt that fitted better.
“Also, I have been following the investigation on the police scanners,” Schechter managed to say. “As I expected, they found nothing at the quarry. They have closed the investigation, more or less.”
“Any press coverage?”
“A single report on the local radio and in the local newspaper, but nothing national.”
Teddy paused for a minute before retrieving the glass.
“Okay, that’s satisfactory. What happened with Tubby’s carcase?”
“Grady knew the location of a different quarry with a lake. Apparently there are many such abandoned workings close by. We weighted it down with rocks, sliced it open from here,”—he pointed to a spot below his navel and ran his finger up to his sternum—“to here, to vent the accumulated gasses, and threw it off the cliff into the water. It sank like a boulder. No one will ever see Tubby Malahide’s mortal remains again, sir. I promise you.”
Teddy took another sip. It tasted good again.
“They’d better not, Hardy. You won’t survive for long if they do.”
Again, the Kraut made with the nervous smile.
“You want me to go pay a visit to Mrs Shafer? Make sure she doesn’t speak to the police again?”
Teddy shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary. I have a better idea. Pony can have some fun with her.”
For the first time since entering the office, Schechter’s expression showed what it should have done earlier: wide-eyed, open-mouthed fear mixed with horror. Ginger shuffled his feet and shot a sideways look at Timothy.
Timothy didn’t move. He knew better.
“Pony?” Schechter asked, his voice hoarse. Colour had drained from an already pasty face.
“You’ve met my little brother?” Teddy asked, already knowing the answer.
/>
“No, sir. But I know him by reputation.”
“Not surprising. I only let him out of his cage on special occasions like this one.”
Teddy laughed and drained his glass. His eyes watered as the rich heat scoured the back of his throat.
“You’ve heard the stories?” he asked the Kraut.
Schechter dipped his head. “I have, sir. Yes.”
“All true. Every single one of them. But the stories out in the open aren’t the half of it. I could tell you some that would turn your hair white, if you weren’t already an albino.”
Schechter raised his right hand and smoothed his hair into place in an inadvertent action he probably didn’t realise he was doing.
“But if you really want to know, I’ll get Pony to tell you himself. Would you like that?”
Schechter shook his head emphatically. “No thank you, sir. That will not be necessary.”
“That’s a shame. He loves an audience. A special case, my baby brother. Now bugger off, but keep your mobile powered up. I might need you later today. One of my tenants is a few days late on his rent.”
Schechter jumped to his feet, clearly unable to leave the room fast enough. While the Kraut’s back was still turned, Timothy looked at Teddy, a question formed in an arched eyebrow.
Teddy shook his head. The trick with the microchip scanner had saved Schechter’s life—this time. Timothy nodded, but couldn’t hide the disappointment. Spending the first fifteen years of his life under the apartheid regime, the big South African had every reason to hate blond white men, but he’d have to pull in his horns, for the moment.
Timothy opened the office door and Ginger escorted Schechter from the room, probably telling him how close he’d been to meeting his Maker.
Teddy grinned inwardly. No point hiding the truth from the men. They needed to be kept on their toes.
“Don’t worry, Timothy,” Teddy said, reaching for his phone. “There’s a little action on the cards in Lymington. A couple of trawler men are starting to grow sticky fingers. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to flex those big muscles of yours.”
“Thanks, Mr Tedesco. Looking forward to it. Want me to leave the room while you talk to you brother?”
“What do you think?”
The big kaffir tapped a finger to his forehead in the nearest action he could make to a salute.
“Be right outside when you need me, Mr Tedesco. Don’t forget your dinner reservation tonight. You asked me to remind you. Mrs Tedesco will turn purple if you’re late again.”
Fuck. He had forgotten. So many things to think about.
“Thanks, Timothy,” he said, punching buttons on the number pad. “I did remember. And my mother can damn well wait.”
Sorry, Mother. Didn’t mean it.
Timothy closed the door quietly behind him and the call connected.
“That you, Teddy?”
“And who else would be calling you on this line, baby brother?”
“You got something interesting for me at last?”
“Fancy taking a little trip into the country with that arsewipe boyfriend of yours?”
“Which one?” Pony asked, his high-pitched giggle squealed down the phone line. “I have so many.”
“I was thinking of the one with the muscles, Pavlovic. You still seeing him?”
For that, read, “is he still alive?”
“No. I have a new special friend. Johnny Ashby. Sweet boy, needs educating though. So, what’s the job?”
Teddy gave him the outline.
“Any constraints? Want me to make it look like an accident?”
Teddy snorted.
“Don’t care what you do so long as the cow doesn’t talk to the filth again. You can make it quick if you want but, knowing you, it’ll be slow and …”
He allowed the sentence to trail off, waiting for Pony to jump in. It didn’t take long.
“You know me so well, big brother. I like to play with them like cat with a mouse. Old woman, you say?”
“Dunno, bro’. All I have is her name and address. Want me to put one of my investigators on her?”
“Not necessary,” Pony said, using his serious ‘down to business’ voice, “doing the deep background stuff makes it all the more fun. Adds to the enjoyment, you know? I delight in the hunt every bit as much as the kill itself. By the time I’m finished, I’ll know everything about her from her favourite hairdresser to her daughter’s bra size. If she has a daughter.
“Give me a couple of days and I’ll have her begging for release.” He let out the breathless laugh that made his victims wet themselves. “And I don’t mean the sweet release of a good long screw, it you know what I mean, bro’.”
Teddy wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“Spare me the details, Pony. Just get it done and make sure no one finds the body. Disposing of a stiff is what gave us this problem in the first place.”
“Ah, Teddy. You were always the squeamish one. But I don’t think of this as a problem. Oh no. This here situation is what I’d call an opportunity!”
The line clicked dead on Pony’s quietest laugh. Teddy dropped the phone in its cradle. For a brief moment, he almost felt sorry for the Shafer woman. He shuddered again.
Poor cow.
Still, business was business. Move on or move out. Time to dress for dinner. Mother did so love to see him in a smart suit.
Sample ends.
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Acknowledgements
My heartfelt thanks go to Michaela Miles for her unstinting help. Whether beta reading, copy editing, proofing, web design, or supporting my mood swings, she’s always ready to offer a kind word and a helping hand. Thanks millions, my cariad. Although we’ve never met in person, I love you.
By the way, dear reader, she bearsno responsibility for any errors within this text—the fault is entirely mine.J
Biography
#1 International Best-seller with On Lucky Shores, The transition of Johnny Swift, and author of the popular DCI Jones Casebook series of crime novels, Kerry J Donovan was born in Dublin. A citizen of the world, he now lives in a cottage in the heart of rural Brittany with his wife of forty years. They have three children and four grandchildren, all of whom live in England. An absentee granddad, Kerry is hugely thankful for the advent of video calling.
The cottage is a pet free zone (apart from the field mice, moles, and a family of red squirrels).
Contact him:
Website: http://kerryjdonovan.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KerryJDonovan
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KerryJDonovan
OTHER WORKS
ACTION THRILLERS
Ryan Kaine: On the Run
A passenger plane explodes. Eighty-three people die. One man is responsible.
When an apparently routine operation ends in tragedy, decorated ex-Royal Marine, Ryan Kaine, becomes the target of a nationwide manhunt. The police want him on terrorism charges, and a sinister organisation wants him dead.
Desperate to prove his innocence, Kaine is forced to rely on two women he hardly knows: one, a country vet who treats h
is wounds, the other an IT expert with a secret of her own.
Battling overwhelming guilt, life-threatening injuries, and his own moral code, Kaine hunts the people who turned him into a mass-murderer.
Can Kaine’s combat skills, instincts, and new-found allies lead him to the truth and redemption?
Ryan Kaine: On the Rocks
A schoolboy lies alone and dying on a Scottish mountainside. An experienced rescue team can’t find him. One man is the boy’s only hope.
When news of Martin Princeton's disappearance reaches international fugitive, Ryan Kaine, he abandons the evidence that could help clear his name and heads to the Scottish Highlands. Officially, the authorities want Kaine in custody. Unofficially, there’s a bounty on his head.
Still hampered by injuries from the events that turned him into the most wanted man in Europe, Kaine uses the heavy burden of killing eighty-three people aboard civilian aircraft Flight BE1555 to fuel his new mission. He will protect the grieving families, ‘The 83’, at all costs.
Armed only with charm and an intimate knowledge of the area, Kaine has to convince the rescue team of his good intentions, and find out everything he can about Martin’s disappearance before they discover who Kaine really is.
Can Kaine use his mountaineering knowledge, special forces training, and rapport with the locals to find the missing boy in time and bring Kaine one step closer to redemption?
CRIME THRILLERS
The DCI Jones Casebook: Sean Freeman
Veteran cop, DCI David Jones, is tough and uncompromising. His Serious Crime Unit has the best arrest record the Midlands Police Service has ever seen and Jones works hard to keep it that way.
Locksmith turned jewel thief, Sean Freeman, is the best safe cracker in the UK. He’s never been caught—the police have never even come close. When Freeman’s boss orders him to break into the Stafford Museum, the UK’s most secure premises outside of the Bank of England he’s in trouble—the Stafford is in the heart of David Jones’ jurisdiction.
Ryan Kaine: On the Defensive: Book Three in the Ryan Kaine Action Thriller Series Page 26
