by Karl Holton
Table of Contents
Title Page
Notes
About the author
Acknowledgements
Copyright
List of Main Characters
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
THE
WAIT
FOR
SHADOWS
Karl Holton
www.thuja.co
For Mum & Dad
Notes
The Wait for Shadows is the second book in the ‘Shadows Series’.
Like the first book, The Weight of Shadows, it has a secret book
code that tells you something you don’t yet know.
Karl
About the author
Karl was born in London and lives in Surrey with his family.
He worked in financial markets for over thirty years.
This is the second book in the ‘Shadows Series’.
He is currently writing the third book in this series.
Contact
Twitter @KarlHolton
Email [email protected]
Blog http://karlholton.com
Instagram @karlholton
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/KarlHoltonAuthor/
Other books by the Author
The Weight of Shadows
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Dave Taylor from @theditor for all of his amazing advice and editing skills. This book and the series would not exist without his dedication, effort and guidance.
Thanks to Bloomin’ Brilliant Books for proofreading.
Thanks to Niall Maguire for his gun/shooting advice.
Cover by matyan90 at https://thebookcoverdesigner.com/
Copyright
Published in the United Kingdom by Thuja Publishing in 2017
Copyright © Karl Holton, 2017
The right of Karl Holton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted at any time in any form or by means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. Actual locations, addresses, and buildings are clearly in the public domain and are used for the purpose of the novel.
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.
First Printed December 2017
ISBN 978-0-9957855-1-9
List of Main Characters
Danny Benedict (‘Benedict’) – ex-Murder Team DCI in the Metropolitan Police (Met) and National Crime Agency (NCA) senior investigator. MI5 have instructed him to work with Hanson.
Ray Hanson (‘Hanson’) – mysterious billionaire who has returned to London to put together a team currently with Benedict, Pip and Paddy.
Philippa Prendergast (‘Pip’) – ex-head of cybercrime at Interpol, now working for Hanson.
Paddy – Hanson’s head of security and his main bodyguard. Ex-2nd Battalion Parachute Regiment, SAS and Ministry of Defence Police
Ellen Wallace (‘Wallace’) – Detective Inspector in the Flying Squad (Robbery Team).
Sean Dawson (‘Dawson’) – head of spies at MI5, who went to university with Benedict. He is Benedict’s ‘handler’ at MI5.
Alan Watkins (‘Watkins’) – Detective Superintendent in the Met Police. Benedict had been his sergeant years ago.
Gerlach Raske (‘Raske’) – ex-Dutch Special Forces, now working as an Assassin
Peter Rowe (‘Rowe’) – Detective Chief Inspector in the drugs squad, Serious Organised Crime Command, Met Police
Tommy Gibbs (‘Gibbs’) – head of a drugs gang based in Essex
Johnnie Garrett (‘Johnnie’) – a drug dealer working for Gibbs
Urna – enigmatic individual within international criminal empire
Lomax – the head of the UK division of the same criminal empire
Prologue
April 2009
30 Rockefeller Plaza, New York
6.01 a.m.
The unexpected shade drifting across the office wall burst his muscles into motion. “Get fuckin’ down!” Anderson screamed, as he jumped in front of the projectile. The bullet hit his chest, thudding against his body armour, making him fall backward. The shot was aimed at the back of Ray Hanson’s head, seated at the desk.
The assassin had swung silently along the outside of the building and smashed through the high-rise office window. The bullet had pierced the glass and he’d followed through and landed perfectly on two feet. After three rapid steps into the room, he stood with his back to the office door. The crashing sound of the glass drowned out every other noise in the room.
A fraction later there was silence.
Looking down the barrel of the pistol, past the long black silencer, the attacker’s gaze met the thundering fury in Anderson’s eyes. He took his left hand from underneath the pistol and pulled down the black mask. “Jasper says hello, Ray.”
Hanson could feel the bulk of Anderson as he pressed against him. The man he had known for thirty-seven years was shielding his life with his own.
He returned his hand, steadying the pistol’s aim. “Ray, tell him to get out of my way or the next bullet will kill both of you.”
Hanson realised why Anderson had not been able to go for the gun inside the right-hand side of his jacket. As he’d covered him, his right hand pushed Hanson’s head downwards into the desk, so their heads were not in line. He knew Anderson had done this to protect him.
Anderson ma
de himself laugh. “If I get to you, I’ll kill you quickly. But the guy behind you will rip you apart … slowly.”
The corner of the attacker’s mouth curled upwards. “Nice try.”
Anderson allowed his eyebrows to rise upwards. “Have it your way, Batman.”
The assassin’s mouth straightened as his eyes flicked left then right then back at Anderson, who was still grinning. The unmistakeable sound of glass cracking came from behind him on the floor. His instant reaction was to start to turn as he squeezed the trigger and fired a single round.
Hanson heard the sound of two shots almost simultaneously, followed by cracking bones and a piercing scream. “Get off me you fucking animal,” shouted the attacker. Hanson’s face was still down towards the table. Anderson moved and took his weight off him but kept a hand on his head. He kept his eyes shut as he heard an even louder break of bone and ligament popping.
The squeals became a whimper leading to a pain filled groan. “Get him off me.”
Anderson stepped away from Hanson, bent down and picked up the pistol. “I did try to tell you, Batman.”
Hanson swivelled in his chair to see Paddy, his other bodyguard, standing over the face-down assassin like a salivating lioness proudly atop of their latest kill. Paddy’s left foot was pressing his face into the floor and a gun was pushed directly behind his heart.
The shot fired by the assassin had hit Anderson’s body armour.
Hanson noticed Anderson wince in pain as his finger found the slug in his protective vest. “That’s two, Anderson.”
Anderson nodded. “I’ll try and keep out of the way of the next one.”
Hanson could see that Paddy had fired the second shot into the back of the man’s right leg, which was bleeding over the wood laminate floor. The first crack of bone was from the man’s right arm, now lying limply at his side. The second snap sound was his left foot which Paddy had expertly stood on, snapping the man’s Achilles tendon, tibia and fibula in one move. He looked at Paddy and raised his eyebrows.
Paddy shrugged. “I assumed you would want to talk to him.”
Anderson laughed. “You see. It’s your lucky day, Batman. He didn’t try and kill you at all.”
Paddy took his foot off the man’s head and his victim managed to glance up at Hanson. “Get this piece of shit off me or I’ll tell you nothing.”
Anderson knelt down, making sure he avoided the blood spatter on the floor. He reached over and unclipped the tether which had secured his entry down the building. It recoiled out of the window. “Who says you have anything useful to tell us, especially as we already know who sent you – thanks for that by the way.”
Paddy grabbed his hair and pulled his head upwards and whispered in his ear. “You came in through the window, why don’t we just send you back out through it?”
He reeled in pain as Paddy contorted his joints. “You wouldn’t do it. You couldn’t explain why I was shot in the leg.”
Anderson shook his head. “So, you’re more concerned with us being able to explain ourselves than the fact that you’ll be brown bread. We are on the 61st floor, mate. By the time you hit the pavement a coroner won’t be able to find your leg let alone any ballistic evidence. You’re really smart … Jasper must be well pleased he used you.”
The man’s face appeared confused. “Brown bread?”
“Dead, you stupid —"
The phone on the desk behind Hanson rang. Anderson stood up and looked at him. They’d been waiting for a call from the CIA, who Hanson had worked with for fourteen years, building the world’s most complex financial structure to secure seized assets for covert operations. Hanson was the key to how this worked globally for both the CIA and NSA, enabling them to fund offshore operations outside of US government budget constraints.
In the twenty years prior to working for the US security services, Hanson had gone from gangland London’s money man to the world’s largest money launderer. This was when the CIA and NSA secured his services. He remained in the money laundering world but secured both information and assets for them across the globe.
The world of crime and terrorism creates many opportunities for those happy to assist the perpetrators. Hanson’s primary competitor in this underground world was a man known only as ‘Jasper’. Nobody knew who he was, except that there was a rumour he was South African.
Jasper had become the primary money launderer for drug dealers and terrorists. He’d become obsessed with taking over everything that Hanson was doing; years ago he decided that the fastest way to do this was murdering him. This was not the first time that Jasper had tried to kill Hanson.
The CIA and NSA had agreed that Jasper had to be stopped. They had dedicated intelligence resources to the project, but eventually Hanson had led them to him. He’d been told by the security services he’d be contacted at his central New York office today once the operation was coming to an end.
Hanson turned and picked up the phone. “Yes.”
“Ray, it’s Chuck. We’ve got him. Jasper’s dead.”
Hanson closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about mentioning the groaning human on the floor but decided to stay quiet for now. “Are you sure?”
“It’s him, Ray; no doubt.”
Hanson trusted Charles Sheppard, who everyone knew as Chuck, his handler from the CIA. “How did it happen?”
“I cannot explain here. We need to meet.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Langley. I’ll come to New York and meet you.”
“You need to get this one right, Chuck. You need the very best identification; whatever it takes.”
“We’re all over it. I’ll explain when I see you. I’ll be there tomorrow and call you as soon as I arrive, ok?”
Hanson sighed deeply. “Ok, speak tomorrow.”
He replaced the handset on the phone and raised his hand to his forehead, rubbing both eyebrows at once. “Jasper is dead.”
Anderson turned and looked down at the man, blood dripping from his leg wound. “Your boss is brown bread. How do you feel now, dickhead?”
The assassin twisted his face towards them and started to laugh as if suddenly getting the joke. Anderson sensed something was wrong.
He turned back to Hanson, who didn’t understand the terrified look on his bodyguard’s face; Anderson was staring at the red dot squarely placed on Hanson’s forehead. All he felt was Anderson pushing him backward, over the desk and jumping with him to cover him.
The high-velocity bullet shattered the side of Anderson’s head and he was dead before he came to rest on his friend.
Chapter 1
Seven years later - August 2016
Day 7
Hotel 41, Buckingham Palace Road, London
6.12 a.m.
Lomax hit the hotel room door twice, which opened in front of him a few seconds later. He knew nearly everything about the man in the room staring at him. These eyes have seen multiple variants of death, he thought.
This was the first time the two men had ever met face to face. He stepped into the room without any words being exchanged.
The curtains were closed, a halogen table lamp down-lighting the lower part of the room.
Lomax walked over to the desk sitting against the far wall; he turned the single chair around and sat down. The man remained standing close to the door with his hands behind his back. Lomax knew he would have a weapon in one hand.
“Thank you for coming to London at such short notice,” Lomax said.
“I was already on my way here. I have some business, which I need to … complete.”
Lomax stared directly at the man. “The journey from Iceland is quite simple.”
The slight movement of the man’s head showed Lomax his surprise. He’d been ordered to engage the man directly and make it clear that they knew everything about him. The danger this put Lomax in meant nothing to his bosses. Somehow, he had also become comfortable with this continuous death dance. Now, he
enjoyed it, played with it and bent it to his will. “Our business here in London is urgent. You cannot be distracted by revenge for your … partner.”
The man noticeably shifted in the darkness. “You know about Richter?”
“Yes, we know that most of the work here in the UK that you have been doing using your pseudonym, The Doctor, was done by your partner; a Mr Richter. We also know that Mr Richter was killed thirty-six hours ago here in London.” Lomax crossed his legs and straightened the perfect crease in his trousers. “This may all be easier if I use your name?”
“I take it you know my real name?”
“I do … Mr Raske,” Lomax replied.
Lomax knew everything about the two men. Raske and Richter had been part of the Dutch Special Forces together. They knew each other well and both sensed the instinctive natural killer within the other. When they left in 2010 they had already decided to become a hired assassin team, using a common pseudonym, being known in the underworld as The Doctor.
Raske moved like a panther and sat down on the edge of the bed in front of Lomax, his lower face illuminated by the dim light. “Richter became greedy. I’d told him that he should never have worked with the Bratva. He got himself killed and I’m going to discover what happened.”
Raske was referring to a job where Richter had attempted to kidnap and ransom the wife of the Deputy Ambassador of the USA in London on behalf of the Bratva. This woman, who was known as Alice, was also the daughter of the particularly troublesome Ray Hanson. Alice had been saved by Hanson’s team and Richter was killed. Raske knew none of the details of how, why or by whom as Richter had kept this all secret from his partner. Lomax believed he knew the answer to all of these.
“I agree, Mr Raske. Now, I can help you with what you need to know — however I need you to complete certain tasks for us first.”
