[James Ryker 01.0] The Red Cobra

by Rob Sinclair

  In the end, it was one of the main reasons why Ryker’s career with the JIA had come to such a spectacular close.

  ‘Where can I find Eva?’ Ryker asked.

  Green sighed then reached for his mobile phone. He tapped away before reading off an address to Ryker, who made a mental note.

  ‘It’s her father’s place,’ Green said. ‘Like I said, she’s a kid.’

  ‘A kid who was screwing Patrick Walker.’

  ‘I don’t pretend to understand the whys and wherefores, I’m just saying.’

  ‘Thanks for lunch,’ Ryker said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘I’ll pay next time.’

  ‘You’re not going over there like that, are you?’

  ‘What, would you rather drink some more wine first?’

  ‘Okay, Ryker. I know you’re eager to figure this out,’ Green said, glaring. ‘And that’s good. But if you bite off more than you can chew, if you go rubbing up the wrong people the wrong way, it’s not going to end well for you.’

  ‘Noted.’

  ‘Be careful out there.’

  Ryker walked away from the table, Green’s words swimming in his head. His first impression of Green had been right, that was for sure. But he sensed there was even more to Green’s awkwardness than him being an over-the-hill middle-ranked detective with a beef against the world. Ryker got the impression he was scared. But of what?

  Ryker caught a taxi back to Walker’s house to pick up his car. He took the opportunity to call Lisa. He’d sent her a text message the previous evening shortly after landing, but hadn’t spoken to her since leaving her at home almost three days earlier.

  In the nearly twelve months they’d been living together, he hadn’t been away from Lisa for more than a few hours, and he was missing her. But the fact was, he was still getting used to being in a meaningful relationship. He loved Lisa, he really did. Hell, look at how he’d fought for her, the things he’d done, the people who’d been hurt and killed while he saved her from the clutches of the FSB, the CIA, and the JIA who were all gunning for her. In doing so, he’d salvaged a life for them both. But still, the nuances and expectations of being in an adult relationship were alien to Ryker.

  He felt bad for not having called her sooner, but he’d quickly become engrossed in the job. His work had been his life for so many years and it was a hard habit to break – even though he was no longer an official JIA agent, and never would be again.

  It was more than that, though. He’d been distracted by the resurgence of old memories of the Red Cobra. And as he dialled he felt a pang of guilt over that.

  As it was, the call went unanswered – the large time difference not helping, she was probably sleeping. Ryker left a brief voice mail before putting the phone away and getting his mind back on track.

  When he arrived at Casa de las Rosas, the maid opened the front gates to let Ryker in. He hopped into his car without seeing or speaking to Walker and drove the short distance back down to the coastal road, then headed west and on to Marbella – one of the wealthiest and most fashionable areas of Andalusia.

  Marbella – largely overrun by non-Spanish – was a town awash with fast cars, luxury boats and expensive playboy pads. Walker’s wealth was one thing, but what Ryker saw in Marbella was on another level. At least Walker seemed to have some taste to go with his money. His house was glorious and sympathetic to the surroundings. Or maybe that had been Kim’s doing. Much of what Ryker saw in Marbella, though, was simply money without sense.

  Ryker headed toward the address Green had given him, using his mobile phone’s GPS map to guide him. The exclusive housing complex was located on a small stretch of coastline where several huge mansions stood directly in front of the beach. The gated entrance to the estate was manned by two security guards. Ryker didn’t want to go in that way. He could only assume that the whole area beyond the gates was covered by CCTV cameras too.

  Ryker drove on for a couple of minutes and parked his car on the road next to a half-built run of apartments that looked as though it had been mothballed. Huge signs proudly displayed the site as being one of the finest luxury spots on the sunlit coast. The grey breeze-block shells of the reality were a far cry from the artist’s colourful impressions. Ryker had noticed several similarly abandoned developments already on his short stay in Andalusia – clear evidence of the recent bust that had followed the boom.

  Ryker headed on foot to the beach, then traipsed across the soft sand back towards the millionaires’ row. Or was it billionaires’?

  The beach was secluded, quiet. Other than two joggers and a dog-walker there wasn’t a soul in sight. The Costa del Sol was vast and although numerous pockets of it were heavily built-up and the beaches routinely crammed, it wasn’t difficult to find quieter stretches like this one.

  Ryker held out his phone, using its precise GPS tracking to locate the house he was looking for. It was monstrous with a stone-effect finish, and ten sets of windows stretched across each of the home’s three floors. Large columns gave the building an old-world colonial appearance, though it seemed from the immaculate condition of the stonework, and the finish of neighbouring properties, that the house was almost brand new.

  Satisfied that he wasn’t being observed from the beach, Ryker moved toward the house and scaled the small wall that separated the landscaped gardens from the sand.

  Keeping low as he moved between bushes and trees, Ryker approached the back of the property, looking for any signs of life as he went. He saw none: no pool cleaner or gardener or anyone else around. All the doors and windows were shut tight. The glare from the sun made it difficult to see what lay beyond the many panes of glass, and it was possible that someone was sitting a few yards inside the house, watching Ryker’s every move, but the thought didn’t deter him.

  Ryker continued moving, as stealthily as he could. He came up against the back corner of the house, then he slid along the wall. He approached the first set of windows, beyond which he could make out a large home office. Neat bookshelves were crammed with old tomes. In contrast, the large desk that sat in the middle of the room was scattered with loose papers. Ryker kept on moving.

  Next he came upon a grand sitting room, then an open-plan kitchen diner that looked to be about the size of Ryker’s entire house. As well as a large window in the kitchen, the dining area had a set of bi-fold doors leading out into the back garden. Ryker tried the handle. Locked. Not a problem: the type of lock was one of the simplest to pick.

  Ryker was reaching into his trouser pocket for the small torsion wrench and picks that he’d brought with him when he suddenly spotted movement inside the house.

  A figure walked into the kitchen, initially none-the-wiser to Ryker’s presence. Eva. She was red-faced, dressed in a skin-tight running top and shorts, and bright green trainers. Ryker was about to scuttle away, out of sight of the window, when she looked up.

  She saw Ryker immediately. For a split second, a look of panic swept across her face. Then came a knowing smile. Ryker relaxed and Eva moved toward him, released the lock and opened the door. A waft of pleasantly cool air escaped.

  ‘You again,’ she said in English. Her foreign accent was barely recognisable.

  ‘I was hoping you were home.’

  ‘You were? The easiest way to find out would have been to knock on the front door.’

  ‘I prefer to catch people off guard.’

  ‘Yes, I get that impression about you. Why are you here?’

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the man you’re sleeping with. And why someone would murder his wife.’

  18

  ‘Come in,’ Eva said. She stepped to the side and Ryker walked into the house, scanning the opulent expanse in front of him.

  He’d rarely seen such an overt display of wealth. Marble covered both the floor and the seemingly never-ending worktops in the kitchen. Sleek chrome appliances glistened. A large chandelier dangled overhead in the dinin
g area above a grand table that would probably seat a couple of dozen people. Large artworks hung on the walls and expensive-looking ornaments did their best to further fill the extensive space.

  ‘Nice place,’ Ryker said, not entirely convincingly.

  ‘Who are you?’ Eva said.

  Ryker turned to face her. She was breathing heavily and her face and top were wet with sweat.

  ‘Good workout?’

  ‘A run. Yes it was good. But hot.’

  ‘You ran out in that heat?’

  ‘You get used to it. I’ll ask you again, who are you?’

  ‘The name’s James Ryker.’

  ‘And why are you here?’

  ‘I’m working with the police.’

  ‘You don’t look like a policeman. You’re too... I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m not a policeman.’

  ‘So what are you then?’

  ‘A helping hand.’

  ‘Helping with what?’

  ‘I’m investigating the murder of Kim Walker.’

  Eva looked away from Ryker. She was a cool character, full of sass and self-confidence. But clearly she wasn't beyond being rattled. And Ryker could tell that Kim Walker was not a comfortable subject for her.

  ‘I’ve already given a statement to the police about that.’

  Ryker raised an eyebrow. ‘And why would you be required to do that?’

  Eva turned back to face him. Above her already rosy cheeks, Ryker was sure he saw her blush. ‘Because of me and Patrick.’

  ‘How long have you been sleeping with him?’

  ‘Is this an official visit?’ Eva glared at Ryker, the first sign of anger evident.

  Ryker shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I’d rather have my lawyer here before speaking to you any more.’

  ‘You have a lawyer? Why do you need a lawyer?’

  ‘He’s my father’s lawyer.’

  ‘And where’s your father?’

  ‘At work.’

  Ryker paused. The talk of lawyers made him wary – as it had when Green had mentioned Walker’s lawyer. Whatever these people had to tell, whatever they knew of Kim Walker, with high-profile lawyers on the scene no one would be willing to open up. Perhaps that was why Green and the local police had made so little headway.

  ‘This is just a little chat,’ Ryker said. ‘A getting to know you. Can we do that? There’s no need for you to call a lawyer.’

  Eva stared at Ryker again and he held her gaze. He saw the same raw intensity in her eyes as when he’d first seen her in the village. Ryker had to admit he was drawn to it, even though he sensed that Eva was not someone to be trusted.

  ‘Thanks for helping me earlier,’ she said.

  ‘It was nothing. I was just there to speak to Walker. Had to get his attention somehow.’

  Eva laughed. ‘You must really have a way with people.’

  ‘Why were you two arguing?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘A story you’re going to tell me, right?’

  Eva hesitated for a few seconds. ‘Okay. But look at me. I’m covered in sweat. I really need to take a shower. Fix yourself a drink and I’ll be back down in five minutes. Yeah?’

  ‘Okay.’ Ryker raised an eyebrow and looked around the huge kitchen.

  ‘There’s coffee. Tea. Beer. Liquor. Whatever. Help yourself.’

  Eva spun round and sauntered off. As she reached the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled to see Ryker still had his eyes on her. She left the room and Ryker heard her padding up the stairs.

  After a few moments, he moved over to the kitchen area, found a glass and poured himself some water from a bottle in the fridge.

  Despite her allure, Eva gave Ryker an eerie feeling. He was drawn to her, there was no doubt about that. She had a seductive air that even in her early twenties she already seemed an expert at exploiting. But Ryker also knew Eva was a trouble-maker. She’d spotted him roaming in the back garden, had almost without question invited him into her father’s home, despite knowing little about who Ryker was, and within minutes had left him on his own.

  Was she setting him up for a fall?

  Maybe. It didn't matter. The window of opportunity was there nonetheless. Ryker headed straight out of the kitchen and through an expansive entrance lobby to the office he’d seen when he was outside. The door was locked. Not a problem. Ryker set down his glass on the floor, took out his picks, and in less than a minute, was inside.

  He casually moved over to the desk and rummaged through the clutter, taking in as much as he could in the few minutes he expected he had. He remained vigilant for the sound of Eva coming back down the stairs, or for anyone else in the house. But he wasn’t that worried about being caught out. His job was to find answers, not to abide by the rules that constrained the police.

  Among the papers, Ryker found piles of invoices, statements and correspondence with two different banks discussing loan facilities. A company called Empire Holdings cropped up more than once. He also noticed several references to a development with the name Blue Dolphin Villas. Much of the correspondence was marked as being to or from an Andrei Kozlov – with the address of the house that Ryker was currently standing in.

  Ryker tried the desk drawers. The top two were locked. He didn’t attempt to pick them, just kept going. The third wasn’t locked. Ryker opened it.

  The only objects inside were a pair of reading glasses and a small leather-bound book. The front cover was bare except for a gold-embossed cross and Cyrillic writing that Ryker knew was the Russian word for ‘bible’.

  As Ryker pushed the drawer shut, he caught a glimpse of a shadow. He looked up to see Eva standing in the doorway. He was surprised he hadn’t heard her coming. Her entrance had obviously been intended to startle him. It hadn’t worked.

  ‘Find what you were looking for?’ she asked without any hint of shock or anxiety in her tone.

  Eva was casually leaning against the doorway, dressed in a light summer dress that fell a few inches short of her knees. Her wet hair hung over her shoulders. Even though her face was now cleared of the thick make-up that had covered it for her dance routine earlier in the day, she was still a picture to look at. In fact Ryker thought the natural look suited her, even if it did make her features less intense.

  ‘Was trying to find the toilet,’ Ryker said. ‘The door was open.’

  ‘You’re not a very good liar.’

  Ryker shrugged.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and sit somewhere more comfortable.’

  She turned round and Ryker followed her through to a sitting room, where two large cream leather sofas were arranged opposite each other adjacent to an ornate stone fireplace.

  ‘Your father’s Russian,’ Ryker said. ‘Andrei Kozlov.’

  ‘Yes.’ Eva turned to face him. ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘I thought you were local. You look Spanish.’

  ‘Eva Kozlov. Hardly a Spanish name.’

  ‘I didn’t know your last name.’

  ‘You’re really not a very good detective, are you?’

  ‘I’m not any kind of detective.’

  ‘I was born in Russia.’ Eva sat on one of the sofas and crossed her legs in a manner which exposed as much skin as possible. Ryker remained standing, trying his hardest to keep his wandering gaze on her face. ‘But my mother is half-Spanish. I guess that’s where my looks come from. We moved here when I was nine. So I’ve been in Spain more than half my life.’

  ‘Where’s your mother?’

  ‘Dead.’

  Ryker had noticed various happy pictures of the family as he’d walked through the house. Mother, father and daughter. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ryker said, feeling somewhat lame for his bland response.

  ‘It’s fine. It was years ago. Cancer.’

  ‘Why did you move here? To Spain, I mean.’

  ‘For my father’s work. He’s a–’

  ‘Property developer.’

  ‘Yes
.’

  ‘And that’s how he knows Patrick Walker. And how the two of you came to know each other.’

  Eva said nothing, but Ryker could see a sliver of vulnerability in her eyes. Walker was obviously not a happy subject for her.

  ‘Why do you want to speak to me?’ Eva said, more cagey than before. ‘I told you, I already gave my statement.’

  ‘Tell me what you know about Kim Walker.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask that. I barely knew her.’

  ‘Okay. Then how long have you known Patrick Walker?’

  Eva paused for a few seconds as though trying to figure out the correct answer. Or perhaps whether or not to tell the truth. ‘Eight years. A bit more maybe. But I was a girl then, I didn’t really know him. Just that he was a colleague of my father’s. They’ve worked on projects together for years now.’

  ‘And he hadn’t met Kim Walker at that point, when he started working with your father?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘So how did Patrick meet Kim?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know? She turned up one day by his side and you never asked or heard why?’

  ‘I told you, I was a girl. I can’t really remember the first time I met her. Perhaps you should be asking Patrick these questions, not me.’

  ‘Did Kim know about the affair?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Eva said after a moment of silence. She was now looking anywhere but at Ryker. ‘I certainly never told her. And I don’t think Patrick did. What we were doing, it wasn’t serious. I didn't ever expect him to leave her, and he never said he wanted to. It was just fun.’

  Ryker huffed at Eva’s heartless statement. She really was a piece of work. ‘So when did you start sleeping with him?’