gonna have to do what I say. Now get the fuck over here!’
I had started this job with the understanding that I might have to kill Bradley Jorgenson. It’s funny how fate plays out sometimes. The arrival of this would-be killer had changed the dynamics of my mission. In my mind, Bradley had been someone to be loathed, someone to be put down with all the regret of shooting a rabid dog. And yet here I was, offering to be his protector.
‘Are you armed?’
He shook his head.
‘What about him?’ I jerked my head towards a man folded over a desk.
Jorgenson’s eyes teared up. He shook his head sadly.
‘Make sure,’ I ordered him. ‘He could be carrying.’
‘He isn’t,’ Jorgenson said. ‘My father. He abhorred violence. He was a man who only wanted to stop pain.’
Noble, I thought, but misguided. Someone who makes their billions from military contracts can’t play the moral card when challenged over their source of income. He could say what he wanted, but Daddy Jorgenson was as much to do with causing pain as curing it.
‘Check,’ I said.
I crept over to the door. Keeping low, I bobbed my head round the frame, then back inside again. I didn’t see the killer, but he was likely still in the house. When I glanced in his direction, Jorgenson was gently patting around inside his father’s jacket. He was looking at me, his eyes full of disgust.
‘Nothing,’ he spat, moving away quickly.
‘Get Marianne,’ I told him. ‘Take her over there.’
Jorgenson helped Marianne up. She looked shaky, but unhurt. On rubber legs, she allowed Jorgenson to lead her past the dead man to the far end of the room. Her eyes swooped, like birds chasing insects at dusk, never still, never in one place.
‘Do you know that man?’ I demanded. I snuck a look round the door frame, noticing a play of shadows from below.
‘No,’ Jorgenson said. ‘And I don’t know you. Who the hell are you?’
It was Marianne who offered an explanation. ‘He’s Joe. He’s here to help.’
‘You’ve no idea why he wants you dead?’ I asked.
No reply. When I looked, Jorgenson was holding Marianne to him, his hands cupping her head against his chest. Marianne was sobbing into his shirt. The picture of young love. It didn’t look much like Marianne had ever suffered at his hands. Maybe she’d only traded one lesser terror for another.
There’d be time for resolving the Jorgenson problem later. Right now there was a far greater danger to Marianne’s welfare. The killer was downstairs and he was up to no good.
‘Is there another way out of here?’ Studying the windows, I decided that we could smash one of them and climb out. It would be a fair drop to the ground but we were all capable of it. What I didn’t like the idea of was the killer waiting for us, picking us off from below as we clambered from the window.
RINK HOW FAR AWAY
My text was hurried. Thankfully I received his reply in seconds, but it wasn’t what I wanted to see.
FIFTEEN MINS
Not soon enough. The killer wasn’t going to wait that long.
I heard a clatter and dull thump from below us.
‘What’s he doing?’ Marianne asked.
I’d been thinking the same thing. Sounded like he was in the kitchen.
MEET US SOBE , I sent to Rink.
In her schoolgirl guise, Marianne might not have been much help in these circumstances. But as the sleek trophy Jorgenson had made of her, perhaps there was something she could bring into play.
‘Marianne, you have perfume in here?’
Marianne stared at me as if I was mad. In all honesty she wasn’t so far removed from the truth. ‘Perfume?’
‘Good stuff. Concentrated.’
She nodded, pulling free from Jorgenson’s embrace. She took a wide berth round the dead man and went to a credenza where she pulled open a compartment and grabbed at bottles of scent. Judging by the brands and designs of the bottles, she handed me the makings of a bomb that would cost thousands of dollars.
Checking that the killer wasn’t sneaking
I had started this job with the understanding that I might have to kill Bradley Jorgenson. It’s funny how fate plays out sometimes. The arrival of this would-be killer had changed the dynamics of my mission. In my mind, Bradley had been someone to be loathed, someone to be put down with all the regret of shooting a rabid dog. And yet here I was, offering to be his protector.
‘Are you armed?’
He shook his head.
‘What about him?’ I jerked my head towards a man folded over a desk.
Jorgenson’s eyes teared up. He shook his head sadly.
‘Make sure,’ I ordered him. ‘He could be carrying.’
‘He isn’t,’ Jorgenson said. ‘My father. He abhorred violence. He was a man who only wanted to stop pain.’
Noble, I thought, but misguided. Someone who makes their billions from military contracts can’t play the moral card when challenged over their source of income. He could say what he wanted, but Daddy Jorgenson was as much to do with causing pain as curing it.
‘Check,’ I said.
I crept over to the door. Keeping low, I bobbed my head round the frame, then back inside again. I didn’t see the killer, but he was likely still in the house. When I glanced in his direction, Jorgenson was gently patting around inside his father’s jacket. He was looking at me, his eyes full of disgust.
‘Nothing,’ he spat, moving away quickly.
‘Get Marianne,’ I told him. ‘Take her over there.’
Jorgenson helped Marianne up. She looked shaky, but unhurt. On rubber legs, she allowed Jorgenson to lead her past the dead man to the far end of the room. Her eyes swooped, like birds chasing insects at dusk, never still, never in one place.
‘Do you know that man?’ I demanded. I snuck a look round the door frame, noticing a play of shadows from below.
‘No,’ Jorgenson said. ‘And I don’t know you. Who the hell are you?’
It was Marianne who offered an explanation. ‘He’s Joe. He’s here to help.’
‘You’ve no idea why he wants you dead?’ I asked.
No reply. When I looked, Jorgenson was holding Marianne to him, his hands cupping her head against his chest. Marianne was sobbing into his shirt. The picture of young love. It didn’t look much like Marianne had ever suffered at his hands. Maybe she’d only traded one lesser terror for another.
There’d be time for resolving the Jorgenson problem later. Right now there was a far greater danger to Marianne’s welfare. The killer was downstairs and he was up to no good.
‘Is there another way out of here?’ Studying the windows, I decided that we could smash one of them and climb out. It would be a fair drop to the ground but we were all capable of it. What I didn’t like the idea of was the killer waiting for us, picking us off from below as we clambered from the window.
RINK HOW FAR AWAY
My text was hurried. Thankfully I received his reply in seconds, but it wasn’t what I wanted to see.
FIFTEEN MINS
Not soon enough. The killer wasn’t going to wait that long.
I heard a clatter and dull thump from below us.
‘What’s he doing?’ Marianne asked.
I’d been thinking the same thing. Sounded like he was in the kitchen.
MEET US SOBE , I sent to Rink.
In her schoolgirl guise, Marianne might not have been much help in these circumstances. But as the sleek trophy Jorgenson had made of her, perhaps there was something she could bring into play.
‘Marianne, you have perfume in here?’
Marianne stared at me as if I was mad. In all honesty she wasn’t so far removed from the truth. ‘Perfume?’
‘Good stuff. Concentrated.’
She nodded, pulling free from Jorgenson’s embrace. She took a wide berth round the dead man and went to a credenza where she pulled open a compartment and grabbed at bottles of scent. Judging by the brands and designs of the bottles, she handed me the makings of a bomb that would cost thousands of dollars.
Checking that the killer wasn’t sneaking
Similar Books
