[James Ryker 01.0] The Red Cobra

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘They’re from the local bullfighting school,’ Eva said, answering Ryker’s unspoken question. He and Eva moved away from the stairwell and took a seat in the shade on the stone bleachers. ‘Usually they train in the school, on the farms. As a special treat every now and then I organise for them to come here and experience what it’s like to be inside the bullring.’

  ‘You organise it?’

  Eva shrugged. ‘My father’s friend owns the bullring now. And more than one of the ranches in the region where the fighting bulls are reared.’

  Ryker huffed but didn’t say anything in response.

  ‘I like to help people,’ Eva said.

  It was as though the more times she said it, the more she truly convinced herself of those words.

  ‘And what about your father? And his friends? They like to help people too?’

  ‘They do good things. They make a lot of money for this region.’

  ‘Yeah. In the end it always comes down to money.’

  Ryker watched as one of the young matadors moved away from the group. He was taking deep breaths, readying himself for action. The man with the cart moved to one side, giving himself some space from the young man who let down his red cloth that was attached to a long stick. In his other hand was a mock spear.

  Seconds later, the man with the cart charged. Dust billowed upwards from behind. The boy stood, his spine straight like a dancer in pose, not a hint of movement in his legs, his arms, his torso. It looked like the cart was about to mow him down. Ryker found himself holding his breath.

  At the last moment, the boy swept to the side, drew back the spear and went to stab it onto the top of the fast-moving cart. But he moved too late. The wheel of the cart caught his leg and sent him spinning into the air. There was an explosion of dust as the boy landed in a crumpled heap on the ground. One of his friends raced up to him to see if he was all right. The teacher simply bellowed at the young matador’s mistake.

  ‘Tough schooling,’ Ryker said.

  ‘Of course. A matador has to be prepared to risk his life.’

  ‘They don’t train with animals?’

  ‘They do. But not with fighting bulls. Every fighting bull only fights once. In the arena.’

  Ryker raised an eyebrow.

  ‘The bulls are sent for tienta, testing, when they are about two years old, to test their aggression. Some are selected to fight. Others for breeding. Others are simply slaughtered for meat. But the ones selected for fighting, they never meet a man on foot until the day they fight. The mothers on the other hand, they are regularly tested with men to determine which will give the most aggressive bulls. It’s always said a bull’s fighting instinct comes from its mother.’

  ‘Not much fun for the bulls, though, right?’ Ryker said. ‘And the best ones, the ones selected for fighting, suffer the most.’

  ‘The bulls are treated very well their whole lives. Some people don’t like bullfighting. They say it’s cruel. But I think there’s far worse cruelty in the world than bullfighting. I admire the tradition. I admire the training the matadors go through, the way they put their lives on the line to entertain others. And if you’d ever seen a live fight, I’m sure you’d admire it too. It’s not just a sport, it’s an art form.’

  As she spoke, the next boy in line had his turn against the cart. He fared much better, pirouetting on the spot as the cart sped past and landing a solid blow with his spear as he turned. Ryker had to admit the confidence and poise in the boy’s movements impressed him. The other students erupted in applause.

  ‘Do you want to see them?’ Eva said.

  ‘See what?’

  ‘The bulls. They’re here already. There’s a fight later today.’

  ‘I’d rather we got to the point. Cardo.’

  Eva ignored him and got to her feet. Ryker followed, his irritation building. He was also feeling increasingly edgy, and stayed focused and wary as he followed Eva, keeping on the lookout for any hint that he was being set up.

  They walked back to the stairwell and took a left, away from where they’d earlier entered. More corridors took them into a holding area. A narrow raised walkway ran along the middle, below which were various gated pens. The stench of piss and faeces filled the air, and the noise of several aggressive bulls – snorting, rustling, banging – echoed against the stone walls.

  Ryker stepped to the edge and looked down at the sorry beast below him. It was massive, far bigger than he'd imagined. He certainly wouldn’t fancy standing nose to nose in the ring with that thing. Even worse would be to fall into the enclosed pen...

  Ryker’s suspicion grew. He straightened up and instinctively brushed his hand against the Colt in his waistband.

  ‘Quite something, aren’t they?’ Eva said. ‘Before the fight, men will stand up here, shouting at them, poking them with sticks, making them angry.’

  ‘One last humiliation before it’s time to die.’

  ‘You’re still not convinced about this?’

  ‘No. I’m not. I think I’ve had enough of the tour now. You said you needed to talk.’

  ‘Your snooping is putting you in danger,’ Eva said, her sudden, blunt statement surprising Ryker.

  ‘In danger of who?’

  ‘I’m not the problem here. Nor is my father. We’re a good family.’

  ‘Eva, I’ve been in this game long enough to tell the good guys from the bad. You’re young, you’re impressionable, I’m sure you’ve got a good heart. But you do know more than you’re letting on – about whom your father is working for and why Kim Walker was killed. And why Inspector Cardo was killed.’

  ‘That’s the thing, though. Cardo really was a shock.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I’m telling you what I heard. This isn’t my world. I wish I didn’t know anything.’

  ‘You keep saying that. I don’t care. Just tell me what you know.’

  ‘Cardo was dirty.’

  ‘I guessed that.’

  ‘He had been for years.’

  ‘And I’m sure there are many more like him.’

  ‘Maybe. But his death was a shock. It wasn’t... you know–’

  ‘He wasn’t killed by the mob,’ Ryker said. ‘I think that’s what you’re getting at.’

  ‘The mob. I hate that word. But you’re right. Cardo was loyal. He was important, and my father’s friends are in a panic now. Not just about who killed Cardo and why, but what the killer knows. And who could be next.’

  ‘Let me ask you a simple question, Eva.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you know why Kim Walker was killed?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eva looked down at her feet. ‘No. I mean, I don’t know exactly. But I heard something.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Before she could answer, Ryker’s attention was grabbed by two figures emerging along the corridor twenty yards ahead. Two men. One was tall, with short dark hair, and a weathered and hardened face. With his Slavic features, he didn’t look dissimilar to Sergei except he was noticeably bigger in the frame. The other man was Buzzcut, the guy Ryker had knocked out at the construction site two days earlier.

  Without any words spoken, Ryker knew why the men were there.

  He’d been expecting the trap sooner or later.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ Eva said. Her surprise looked genuine.

  It didn’t matter one way or the other. The men were there either because of Eva or someone connected to her. Ryker stared over at the two men. They were approaching with caution, edging along the raised gangway. Ryker stole a glance behind him. The coast was still clear that way.

  Ryker looked down at the men’s hands. As he did so, both men brought shiny black handguns into view.

  Peter Winter had made himself clear: Ryker’s Colt was only to be used in life-or-death situations. As far as Ryker was concerned, this fitted the bill.

  39

  Ryker was an easy target for the two men. As quick as he was with a gun, he was unlikely to have the ti
me to pull off two shots before he was fired upon. Eva, though, she wasn’t a target, surely? And given the exposed position Ryker was in, that meant Eva was his only choice for cover.

  With the Slav raising his gun upward, Ryker stooped behind Eva, grabbed her, and thrust her forward toward Buzzcut. Her hat went flying, down into the pit below. The sight of Eva hurtling toward Buzzcut was enough to momentarily distract him. That was all the time Ryker needed. Crouching and darting forward, he whipped out the Colt and fired off two shots, deliberately aiming low (he would never take a life when there was another option available). The bullets caught the Slav in his leg; one in his thigh, the other bang centre of his knee joint. He screamed as he collapsed to the floor.

  Ryker burst toward Buzzcut, letting off two more hurried shots as he moved. He didn't hit with either, but the melee attack was enough to get the better of his foe. As Ryker barged into Buzzcut, there was a cascade of gunfire, but all the goons shots were wayward. Ryker sent the man tumbling over the edge of the walkway and the shooting stopped.

  Down below, an angry bull leaped towards the fallen man, grunting and growling. Buzzcut screamed out and the beast hammered him against the metal door, the vibration rattling along the walkway and up through Ryker.

  Ryker looked up from the pen, glanced quickly to his left then his right, weighing up his next move. His decision was made easier when another gunshot rang out. A bullet ricocheted off the metal gangway inches from Ryker’s feet, sending up a spray of sparks. Reflexively, Ryker ducked and scanned the area for the shooter – the shot certainly wasn’t from either of the goons, they were out of the game, and Eva was huddled on the floor.

  The only possible place that the shot could have come from was in the direction Ryker and Eva had approached. Without another moment’s thought, Ryker moved quickly in the opposite direction – where Buzzcut and the Slav had come from.

  Ryker soon found himself hurtling out onto the terraces of the bullring. Two more shots rang out as he raced through the stands towards another exit, the bullets thudding into the stone bleachers. The noise of gunfire in the enclosed theatre was booming and the sound bounced around the bowl for what seemed like seconds.

  The cluster of teenagers and their teachers had stopped their lesson and were cowering down, panicked looks on their faces as Ryker darted along the stands. Ryker didn’t dare look back, but he knew the shooter must have come out into the open when he heard gasps from the onlookers.

  Another gunshot blasted. Ryker was already throwing himself down the next stairwell. The bullet struck the wall by his face and dust and stone fragments burst into the air. Ryker quickly wiped the grit from his eyes and headed along the inner corridor of the cavernous interior.

  In the maze of corridors, pens and anterooms, he was quite sure he could use his skills to fight back and win against whoever was shooting at him. The problem was the onlookers in the arena. Not only could they get caught in the crossfire but they’d also likely be straight on to the police. The safest option was for Ryker to get out of there while he had the chance.

  Ryker used his instincts as he weaved through the labyrinth of corridors until he eventually came to an exit door. It was shut, but had a security barrier across its centre. A fire exit. Ryker pushed down on the bar, then cautiously stepped out into the blazing sunshine.

  He heaved a sigh of relief as he stuffed his gun into his jeans, underneath his shirt. Then he began a steady march away from the bullring – running would only draw further attention to himself now that he was out in the streets again.

  Ryker checked behind every few yards. Not long after, he saw two men emerge from the still open exit. It was too far to make them out in much detail, but they headed in the same direction as Ryker. They didn’t seem to be carrying guns, but then they wouldn’t be so foolish as to brandish their weapons out in the streets.

  Ryker passed over the Puento Nuevo, glancing down at the canyon below. It gave Ryker one final thought. As he approached the end of the bridge, he noticed a stone staircase that wound down the side of the bridge to a lookout point. A narrow trail then led along the side of the cliff.

  If he could lure the men down there...

  Ryker descended the stairs. He stood and waited at the bottom, pulling himself up against the thick stone wall of the bridge. He had to be quick. The area was quiet, but the town was busy. He didn’t want a random passerby happening upon him as he shoved a man over the edge.

  He heard footsteps on the stairs. Two sets. Ryker tensed, bracing himself to attack.

  Then he quickly wound himself back down when a man and a woman came into view. Arm in arm, they sauntered off along the path.

  Ryker stood for a few moments longer. No sign of the men. Then he heard an eruption of sound above. A police siren suddenly cut through the air. If the two attackers hadn’t already scarpered, they certainly would now.

  And that was exactly what Ryker chose to do too.

  Less than two minutes later, Ryker was sat back in his car, air-conditioning on full blast as he headed away from Ronda, back towards the coast.

  40

  Ryker kept his senses on alert as he drove along the mountainous roads toward the Costa del Sol. Eva’s car had still been parked opposite Ryker’s when he’d left Ronda. He’d seen nothing more of either her or the two men. And there was no sign now in his rear-view mirror of Eva’s car or any others on the quiet roads. No police chasing him either, which could only be a good thing.

  He’d gotten away. He was unscathed. But he was left feeling frustrated and bitter. Frustrated that his trip had taught him little about what was happening in Andalusia, except for some useless details about bullfighting. And bitter because people out there were trying to hurt him. Eva, Kozlov, Walker; one or a combination of them had conspired to hurt Ryker, possibly kill him. That was something Ryker wouldn’t stand for.

  Ryker made another call to Winter.

  ‘You find anything?’ the JIA commander asked.

  ‘I’ll tell you this: that’s twice now that my liaisons with the Kozlov family have led to armed men chasing me down.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve got yourself locked up again?’

  ‘No. This time I got away.’

  ‘And the armed men.’

  ‘I didn’t kill any of them.’

  ‘That doesn’t exactly fill me with much confidence. So what did you find on your little excursion?’

  Ryker filled Winter in. On the meeting with Eva, the men with the guns, how Ryker had shot at Buzzcut and the Slav before escaping from the other men. Winter took it all in without saying a word.

  ‘The Russian mafia are somehow linked to Kim Walker’s murder,’ Ryker added.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I still don’t know. But they’re in a panic now that one of their most trusted bent cops has been taken out.’

  ‘Cardo?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Does the mafia know about the Red Cobra?’

  ‘I don’t know. What about at your end?’

  ‘The hack attack. We traced it. You’re not going to believe this but the attack was masterminded by one Miguel Ramos.’

  ‘Spanish? Not what I was expecting.’

  ‘No. I guessed you wouldn’t be, but that’s not all. He’s only fifteen. A school kid who lives with his mother and grandma in central Malaga.’

  Ryker raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You said the hacker was a pro, that the trail was as complex as you’d seen?’

  ‘It’s true. These kids... that’s what it’s like these days.’

  ‘Who knows about this?’

  ‘Just us.’

  ‘Good. Can you keep it that way? Cardo was bent. I don’t know who else out here is.’

  ‘I’ve no reason to pass the intel to anyone else. You’re my eyes and ears on the ground.’

  ‘Thanks. If you send me an address, I’ll pay him a visit.’

  ‘Go easy on him, Ryker. He’s just a teenager. Part of a hacker
group. He’s not a criminal kingpin. Someone’s using him.’

  ‘I’ll go easy on him. I promise. But you’d better prepare yourself for some more hassle at your end.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘It’s time to stop playing nice. The gloves are coming off.’

  Ryker ended the call before Winter could ask any more questions or raise any protests.

  It was nearly dark by the time Ryker pulled up outside the gates to Casa de las Rosas. A police car was stationed outside. Two officers stood guard, guns on hips, torches in their hands. One came over to Ryker’s window, and Ryker wound it down.

  ‘James Ryker. I’m with Detective Green.’

  The policeman said nothing, just moved to the intercom on the wall where he began talking while his friend stood watch.

  Moments later, the gates swung open and the officers stood to the side. Ryker drove through and parked up next to Green’s car. Another officer stood outside the house. The door opened as Ryker approached. Green was on the other side. The officer moved out of the way.

  ‘You get pretty good protection when you’re mega rich,’ Ryker said to Green.

  ‘Money really can buy you anything.’

  ‘Not quite anything. Where are they?’

  ‘Sitting room.’

  A further two officers stood guard by the closed doors to the sitting room.

  ‘Open the door,’ Ryker said to the policemen. They looked at each other quizzically.

  ‘It’s locked,’ Green said. He moved forward, past Ryker, creating another barrier. ‘Cool it a bit, yeah? There’re six armed policemen here. Don’t go making any rash moves.’

  ‘I’m cool.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Get us into that room.’

  Green hesitated then turned round. One of the officers moved out of the way and Green went up to the sitting room door and knocked loudly.

  ‘Munroe. It’s Green. Ryker too. We need to come in.’

  A few moments later, Ryker heard the lock being released on the inside and the door swung open. On the other side was a policeman. Green had said six, so this was the final one. And he couldn’t have been better placed.