Torsten Dahl book 1 - Stand Your Ground by David Leadbeater Page B

path, Dahl’s thoughts turned to the authorities Johanna had mentioned. Grant might well have paid a certain number of them off. He had the money—that was sure. The question was whether he’d had sufficient time – or whether Grant or a partner already had a foothold in Barbados. Dahl couldn’t think of a reason why they would, but, regardless, he couldn’t fully trust anyone – even an innocent cop might lead them inadvertently to a conspirator.
    They ran down a tree-lined avenue, coming out alongside a brick wall topped by black railings. The small car park was full, but not with vehicles. People stood outside, some apparently oblivious of what had transpired not too far away, others clearly aware and looking around nervously. The approach of sirens had triggered their awareness. Perhaps gunfire as well. The worried crowd’s presence only added to Dahl’s uncertainty.
    “There,” Johanna panted. “A cop.”
    Dahl grimaced, realizing that it was dangerous for them to be traveling as a family. They’d stand out like thorns on a rosebush. But separating would be madness. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a single fact that lay in their favor.
    “Cops could be paid off,” he said. “We need to lie low and find a way out.”
    Johanna regarded him in shock. “What do you mean – paid off? Are you—”
    Dahl cut in. “In real life, people can be corrupted. Police forces are no different.”
    Her face still registered disbelief, but they didn’t have the time. Dahl would have loved to explain it all, lay out every possibility and potential misstep, but Grant was coming and the only cop he could see had just set eyes on them.
    Shit.
    Dahl ushered his family along before the police officer picked them out amid the crowd. The gathering now consisted of many who had escaped the hotel and somehow saw this solid vestige of normality as a refuge. True, more cops were arriving, but Dahl saw little reason to linger here. It was now well past midday, approaching mid-afternoon; Harbour Lights was a nightclub and unlikely to be open yet. Dahl kept Isabella and Julia close and pulled Johanna along behind. His wife was silent, unhelpful, but Dahl put any anger he might feel aside – she wasn’t trained as he was, couldn’t react like he could, and he understood that.
    Nearing the club, he saw that he’d been wrong. Its doors were ajar, people slipping in and out. Maybe they’d opened in response to police pressure . . . or actually never shut. Dahl didn’t know, but at that moment he saw a figure that ignited a spark of hope.
    She could help .
    Still conscious of all the roving eyes, Dahl pushed a little harder, parting the throng and making a bee-line for the figure. Their eyes met and the woman smiled. She was a brunette with every single strand of hair scraped back into a huge bob that gave her the appearance of having a garden ornament affixed to her head. With her well-pressed, red jacket, gold badge and thick clipboard, she certainly looked the part.
    “Can I help you, sir?”
    Dahl approached the holiday rep with immense misgivings, but at the same time understood they weren’t in a position to keep on running. It was time to bury the soldier’s instinct, think of his family and ask for help. “I believe we’re being targeted,” he said. “By the gunmen at the Barbados Palm. You’ve heard, yes?”
    The woman’s expression indicated that she had.
    Dahl indicated his wife and daughters. “Can you help?”
    He hadn’t chosen the woman at random. A good holiday rep would have intimate knowledge of the island, good contacts with police and authorities, and most importantly, a first-rate rapport with the locals. Dahl needed his family to disappear until he could call DC for backup. Of course, the call wouldn’t take long, but the backup would.
    The holiday rep took an unconscious step back. “You think they’re targeting you ? Please don’t worry, sir. The authorities have this in hand. The police