by Rob Sinclair
Anna once again saw the man she knew – her father. It was as though there were two different people inside him and it took a split second for one to overcome the other.
But which man was real? Which persona was in control of the other?
Anna took the photo from her jeans pocket and held it out. Vlad came over and put an arm around her shoulder as he stared down at the picture. He beamed.
‘Do you remember?’ Anna asked.
‘Yes.’ He took the photo from her hand and brought it closer to his face.
‘It was my eleventh birthday. I don’t remember it ever snowing on my birthday before.’
‘No. Me neither.’
‘We had fun that day.’
‘Yes. We did.’
‘I’ve always loved that picture.’
‘I didn’t know you had it.’
‘It’s the only picture I have of us together’
‘I don’t have any,’ Vlad said, his smile vanishing.
‘That picture has kept me going for so long.’ Anna looked up and stared into her father’s eyes, feeling her own eyes welling up. He gazed back, and she could see the love and devotion that he was feeling. ‘But that man,’ Anna said. ‘He’s not you. Not really. Not anymore.’
Before Vlad could say another word, Anna whipped her hand behind her. She unsheathed the small hunting blade that was strapped to her lower back. She thrust the knife forward and plunged it into her father’s side. Four inches of metal sliced through skin and flesh, and penetrated his right kidney, severing the renal artery at the same time.
The simple blow was a fatal one. Anna knew that for sure. She’d placed the blade there with precision and knowing. Vlad would bleed out within a minute, two at most. But she wasn’t finished.
She withdrew the knife. Her father stepped back. His eyes were wide open in shock, his skin white. Anna cried out as she thrust the knife forward again, into her father’s stomach. He let out a painful gasp. Anna pulled the knife away, and he sunk to his knees.
Vlad held one hand over the gushing wound on his belly. A large patch of red spread across his shirt. With his other hand he reached up to Anna.
Tears rolling down her cheek, she grabbed his hand. Held it. Felt the strength in his grip weakening by the second.
As he faded away, the pool of thick red blood beneath his body growing outwards exponentially, Vlad’s gaze never once left his daughter’s.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.
Anna felt her bottom lip quivering, and fought to keep her composure. She had to stay strong. But soon there was nothing she could do to stop herself sobbing uncontrollably.
‘I’m so proud,’ her father spluttered, blood pouring from his mouth. He managed what Anna took to be a smile. ‘You really are my daughter.’
They were his final words. Anna let go of his hand. It flopped down. His head slumped forward.
After that Anna’s father – Vlad Abayev, the legendary Silent Blade assassin – was no more.
25
Present day
‘And you’re telling me that this Anna Abayev is the person who left the note?’ Green asked.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Ryker said.
The two men were sitting at a polished stone dining table on one of two patios at the back of Casa de las Rosas. Walker was inside with his lawyer, Graham Munroe, who’d arrived a half hour earlier. Munroe was claiming Walker was too traumatised to be interviewed by Ryker. There was only so long Ryker would go along with the silly legal shenanigans. Green might have been happy to sit around and play by the book but that had never been Ryker.
‘After killing her father, Anna went on to become one of the most infamous assassins of a generation. The Red Cobra.’
Green scoffed at Ryker’s words. Ryker flicked him a glare. There was nothing humorous or flippant about what he’d said.
‘It all sounds a bit, you know...’
‘What?’
‘Hocus-pocus. Assassins. Silly names.’
‘It’s real. As real as it gets.’
‘If this kind of thing – paid assassins – even exists then why the daft name? I mean, wouldn’t the whole point be that she was so good no one ever knew which murders she was even responsible for.’
‘To a large extent, you’re right. She was brilliant at what she did. Her crime scenes were among the most meticulous I’ve ever seen. For most of the killings she’s been linked to there was zero trace evidence. But the intelligence services are so called for a very good reason: they gather intelligence, through whatever means they can.’
‘Like through coercion and extraordinary rendition to black sites? Yes, I’m familiar with some of the concepts. I watch the news.’
Familiar with the concepts? Clearly Ryker was a bit more intimate with the lengths the intelligence services would go to in order to gain information than Green, but he held his tongue.
‘Like that, yes,’ Ryker said. ‘But a reputation like the Red Cobra’s can’t be built solely through squeaky-clean assassinations and dubious accidents. She’s a freelancer. People, the kind of people who would need her services, need to know of her work. She has to have some identity.’
‘So where did the name come from?’
‘I don't know when it started. The red cobra is a type of spitting cobra, and she’s been known to use pepper spray to incapacitate her victims. Plus she supposedly wears bright-red lipstick. But I say that’s bullshit – embellishment. A large part of the power of her identity as the Red Cobra is that she’s a beautiful woman – hardly common in her line of work. I guess linking the name to a feature of her looks is a natural end result.’
‘So the calling card – the note she left for Walker – is that her usual MO?’
‘Not usual, no. But not unusual either. Think of it like this; when one ruthless gang or mafia family are waging war against another, they want their enemy to know they’ve been hit. Using a shadowy figure like the Red Cobra to attack your enemies adds power to the acts she carries out. It creates fear.’
‘How do you know all this anyway?’ Green asked, still sounding sceptical.
Ryker didn’t answer the question, just stared at Green until the older man finally seemed to get it.
‘Fine. So say I do buy the story. What has this Red Cobra, a deadly assassin according to you, got to do with Kim Walker’s murder? And Patrick Walker?’
‘It was thought that Kim Walker was Anna Abayev,’ Ryker said. ‘Kim’s fingerprints matched those of a profile that MI6 hold on the Red Cobra.’
‘That’s who you really work for? MI6?’ Green said, and his eyes lit up as though it was a moment of great excitement for him.
‘No,’ Ryker said. ‘I don’t.’
Green frowned. ‘What exactly are you saying then?’
‘I don’t know who Kim was, who she really was, I mean. Or how her fingerprints wound up on that file. But she certainly wasn’t the Red Cobra.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because I knew Anna. The Red Cobra. She’s not Kim.’
‘She could have had plastic surgery, changed her face.’
‘Could have. But I don’t think so. The Red Cobra is still out there.’
‘The note? You think the note is legitimate then? That it’s really from her and not someone playing games?’
‘I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but I’d be a fool not to take it seriously. And if she wants Walker dead, then whatever the reason, he’s in big trouble.’
Green went silent, and Ryker could practically see the cogs slowly turning in the detective’s mind.
‘Who are you?’ Green asked, sounding somewhat in awe, but also slightly angry.
‘I’m James Ryker.’
‘I knew there was something fishy about you. Coming here like you did. No one had ever heard of you. I checked you out. Got some colleagues to do the same. Yeah we found your history – jobs, school, blah blah blah. But so what? A thirteen-year-old computer whizz could build a prof
ile like that in minutes.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I knew there was more to you than that. Why would the Home Office have sent some private eye out here when we have the best investigators already working for the Met?’
Ryker shrugged. ‘You think you’re the best. But only because you don’t see everything that’s really happening. Closet mentality.’
Green clearly took offence at Ryker’s words. ‘I’ve seen and done my fair share.’
‘I’m sure you have. But the Red Cobra is another level.’
‘If you say so. Yeah I’m sure you’ve seen some crazy shit. Whoever you really work for maybe you’ve killed far more people than me in your time. You know why? Because I’ve never killed a single person. But so what? It’s not something to brag about. I’m guessing you’re not used to carrying out murder investigations, to dealing with witnesses and victims, and analysing the most incomprehensible bits of evidence to find the tiniest of clues that lead you to the crooks.’
‘No. And I never said any different. I’m not sure what your point is.’
‘My point is don’t take me for a fool, Ryker. I may not know what it’s like to be a government sponsored assassin or whatever it is you think you used to be, but if you want to get to the bottom of Kim Walker’s murder, I can help you.’
‘And I wouldn’t have told you what I did about the Red Cobra otherwise. But I’m telling you this in confidence. What you now know–’
‘What? If I tell anyone, you’ll slit my throat while I sleep?’
Ryker smiled. Green didn’t. ‘Let’s say it’s in all of our interests that you keep quiet.’
‘We need to get Walker into protective custody.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because from what you’ve told me there’s a legitimate threat against his life.’
‘Maybe he’s got it coming. I’m increasingly getting the feeling that Walker isn’t the vanilla businessman everyone thinks he is.’
‘Maybe not,’ Green said. ‘But in the real world the police are there to protect people. We’re not killers no matter how much some of the scumbags we deal with deserve it.’
‘So you do think Walker is a scumbag?’
‘Actually not. I think he’s a grieving husband who’s got himself into a hell of a mess.’
Damn right, Ryker thought. Though he didn’t bother to probe Green on exactly what kind of mess he was talking about. Ryker already had his own thoughts on that. ‘You can try to protect Walker. Do whatever you want. But I’d put money on the Red Cobra still finding him if she wants to.’
‘But why does she want to?’
‘And that’s the question. Whatever Walker got himself caught up in, it got his wife killed. And pretty soon it’s going to get him killed too.’
‘And what do you think he got himself caught up in exactly?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I have no idea,’ Green said. And Ryker sensed that Green fully believed his words. But then some people are great actors, Ryker knew. ‘You think the Red Cobra killed Kim?’ Green asked.
Ryker thought about the question before answering. ‘No. But I think her death and the Red Cobra’s presence are connected. Particularly given the link to Kim Walker and Anna Abayev’s profile.’
‘Then what do you suggest we do now?’
‘Go and speak to Walker.’
‘Munroe isn’t going to let you do that. The only way we’ll get the chance is if we have Walker arrested. But we have nothing to arrest him for. And no jurisdiction out here anyway.’
‘Cardo has jurisdiction.’
‘Cardo isn’t here.’
‘How about withholding evidence in a murder investigation?’ Ryker said. ‘Surely that’s a crime?’
‘I mean, it is and it isn’t. I’m no lawyer, but no one is compelled to testify against themselves. Innocent until proven guilty. Right to silence, and all that?’
Ryker turned and looked up at the mansion behind him. He spotted Walker through the windows of the sitting room. He sat on his own, his face sullen, still staring down at his feet. Walker looked a sorry state. Ryker had interrogated some hard nuts in his time but Walker wasn’t one of them. Getting what he needed from him would be simple. If only he was given the chance.
Ryker got up from the table.
‘Ryker?’ Green said, sounding suspicious.
‘I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.’
26
Ryker strode back into the house, Green scuttling behind him. Graham Munroe was in the hallway, talking on his mobile phone. Munroe was slick and slimy, and oozed superiority, and Ryker hated everything about him.
Ryker bounded up to the closed double-doors that led to the sitting room where Walker was still sulking. Munroe must have seen the look of determination on Ryker’s face. He suddenly burst into action and darted over to intersect Ryker.
‘What are you doing?’ Munroe asked, barging in front of Ryker.
Ryker ignored him and brushed past. He grabbed the door handle. Munroe grabbed his arm. Ryker spun round and the look in his eyes sent Munroe squirming back two steps.
‘You have no right,’ Munroe said, his voice wavering as he tried to regain his composure.
But Munroe could do nothing physically to stop Ryker, and all three men in the hall knew it. Ryker was about to turn to head into the living room when there was a buzz on the intercom by the front door. He, Green and Munroe each turned their attention to the small box on the wall. Ryker and Green didn’t move as Munroe back-stepped away from Ryker. He pressed the button on the intercom and looked at the small screen as he listened to the crackled response.
‘It’s the police,’ Munroe said.
Ryker rolled his eyes. That was all he needed.
Not a minute later, two uniformed officers from the Policia National walked in through the front doorway. Ryker’s attention was drawn to the holstered guns around their waists. He still wasn’t armed but was increasingly coming to the conclusion that he needed to change that.
Munroe spoke to the policemen briefly while Green and Ryker looked on with intent. The conversation was in Spanish, but they were speaking so quietly, Ryker could make out few of the words.
When they’d finished the chat Munroe and the two officers looked over at Green, then at Ryker. Ryker couldn’t be sure what Munroe had said to the two men about him but they certainly looked wary.
‘Inspector Cardo has sent these officers to protect my client,’ Munroe said. ‘He’ll have a twenty-four-hour watch until we know what is happening here.’
‘Good for him,’ Ryker said.
They weren’t leaving him many options. He moved forward toward the officers. They looked at him quizzically, then at each other questioningly, as though unsure what was about to unfold. Munroe side-stepped away, obviously expecting some sort of ruckus.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Green, the only man in the hall who’d understood Ryker’s innocent intention.
The two officers eventually got it too and moved out of the way to allow Ryker past and to the front door.
‘We’re not exactly making much progress standing around here,’ Ryker said, stopping in the doorway and looking over at Munroe. ‘Not while your client has his heart set on withholding evidence.’
‘I’m not so sure you want to be making accusations like that, Mr Ryker.’ Munroe said.
Ryker glared at Munroe; the look was enough to make the lawyer back down. Ryker turned and carried on out. He had his phone to his ear as he moved toward his car. The call connected after a few seconds and was answered on the third ring.
‘Ryker,’ Winter said. ‘I was thinking about you actually.’
‘Oh, Winter, I know you’ve always been fond of me...’
‘Very funny. I heard about your little escapade to the local nick. Old habits die hard with you, it seems.’
Winter’s tone was forthright and Ryker got the impression the commander was trying to exert h
is authority, something at which his old boss, Mackie, had been an expert. But Winter just didn’t have the same gravitas, and Ryker certainly wasn’t about to start bowing down to Winter’s seniority now.
‘I presume my thanks need to go to you for helping to get me out.’ Ryker sat in the driver’s seat of his Ford, fired up the engine, then headed past the policemen’s car and toward the exit.
‘Actually, that lawyer of Walker’s did a pretty good job on his own,’ Winter said, ‘but yeah, we gave it a little push from this side too.’
Ryker was a little surprised by Winter’s words. Had he misjudged Munroe? But then if Munroe really wanted to help, all he had to do was give Ryker access to Walker.
‘The Red Cobra is here,’ Ryker said.
For a few moments, Winter said nothing. Ryker could hear the JIA Commander’s steady breathing coming down the line so he knew the call was still running.
Ryker turned right, back onto the main road that headed down to the coast. The car was stifling from having been sat in the sun all day, and Ryker pushed the air-con as cold as it would go and the power right up. The dashboard vibrated from the force.
‘You think the Red Cobra killed Kim Walker?’ Winter said.
‘No. Not at all. But I think she will kill Patrick Walker. Unless I can stop her.’
‘Why would she want to do that?’
‘I’m still trying to figure that out,’ Ryker said as he gazed into the distance at the tranquil Mediterranean. Such a picturesque setting. But what dirty secrets lay hidden? ‘I still know nothing about Kim Walker. About who she really was.’
‘No. And neither do we.’
‘What do you know about Andrei Kozlov?’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Ryker. I know hardly anything about this investigation. That’s what you’re there for. So you tell me.’
‘Kozlov is a Russian developer. Walker’s partner. I get the sense Kozlov’s not what he seems.’
‘How so?’
‘For starters, five minutes after leaving his house yesterday I was attacked by two goons.’
‘Yeah, and apparently the policeman who brought you in knew nothing about those two.’
