The Game (Tom Wood)

TEN





The two watchers from the club – the one in sportswear, the other in a suit – had their guns drawn but lowered as they entered the alleyway. Both had hard stares that told Victor they didn’t much appreciate him pointing a firearm in their direction, but they didn’t comment on it and he didn’t care. They came in slowly and obviously because Muir had told them what to expect, but for the same reason they were deliberate and cautious.

The guy in the sportswear said, ‘Are you all right, Janice?’

Muir was on one knee and bent over because of the fall and the pain in her stomach. ‘I’m fine, guys,’ she assured him, straightening her glasses so they sat properly. ‘Honestly. We’re just talking here.’

‘Doesn’t look like just talking,’ the man in the suit said, his eyes fixed on Victor.

‘We were having a lively discussion,’ Muir joked with a cough, and said to Victor, ‘weren’t we?’

He didn’t look at her. He didn’t answer. He kept her handgun steady and extended at the two watchers. The guy in the suit was younger and probably faster than the older man in the sportswear but his suit jacket was buttoned up, which would add a fraction of a second to the time it would take him to snap his own Glock up to shoot. Victor had the gun’s muzzle pointed at the gap of empty air between their heads. They were equally quick and he couldn’t predict who was likely to make a move first if it came to it.

The one in the sportswear said, ‘He’s got your gun.’

‘He’s just borrowing it,’ Muir replied. ‘He’s going to give it back to me any second now. Aren’t you?’

‘Any second,’ Victor echoed.

‘So give it back to her,’ the one in sportswear said.

Muir struggled to her feet. ‘Come on, Francis. Leave us alone for a minute. I’m giving you an order. Stand down. Please.’

The watcher in the sportswear gestured over his shoulder and said, ‘We’ll be right around the corner if you need us.’ He tapped the man in the suit on the arm.

Who said to Victor, ‘And we can be back in a flash, pal. Don’t you forget that.’

‘He won’t,’ Muir answered for him.

‘In a flash,’ the man in the suit said again.

Both watchers backed out of the alleyway, but didn’t turn around while Victor had the Glock aimed at them.

‘You could have made that a lot easier,’ Muir said and thumbed her throat mike.

Victor lowered the gun and faced her.

There was lots of communication back and forth between Muir and the remaining members of the team as she updated the others on the change in circumstances and assured them everything was fine.

She was half a foot shorter than him and he took a step backwards so he didn’t have look down at her at such an acute angle. She was wiry, but so thin she was almost emaciated. He weighed close to double what she did. When he had grabbed her upper arm to lead her to the alleyway, the tip of his index finger had almost reached his thumb, but the arm was firm with muscle, used to doing a job. She found time in her schedule to work out even if she didn’t make time to eat proper meals. Her gaunt features added a couple of years to her appearance. He could see the vitamin D deficiency from her skin tone and the lack of protein in her hair.

She rubbed her stomach and said, ‘I need your help.’

‘Credentials,’ Victor said.

She handed them over. The ID was genuine, but said she worked for the Justice Department. Common practice. Spies didn’t carry laminates identifying themselves as spies.

‘I need your help,’ Muir said again.

He handed back her ID. ‘You said Procter sent you.’

She grimaced. ‘That’s correct. He’s my boss at the agency.’

‘If he really sent you then you should have been told that I’m not of a particularly charitable nature.’

‘Okay, perhaps I should have phrased myself a little differently. When I said I need your help, what I really mean is: I want you to do a job for me. I want to hire you.’

Victor released the magazine from the Glock then pulled back the slide so the round in the chamber ejected. He caught it and handed the gun, the mag and bullet to Muir.

‘Thank you.’ Muir took the items and slipped them back inside her bag.

‘The answer is no.’

‘You don’t even know what I’m asking you to do yet.’

‘The specific details of the contract are immaterial. Procter should have explained to you that I don’t talk business with clients in person. Even those who don’t put a team of watchers on me.’

Muir shifted her weight. ‘Look, I’m sorry about that. I really am. But you have to appreciate the position I was in. I know how things work between you and Procter. I had to meet you in person. I couldn’t have just sent you an email and expected you to take me seriously, could I?’

‘I don’t have to appreciate anything. But what you need to understand is that Procter is my broker. I don’t deal with anyone else. Whatever your job is, if you wanted me to even consider agreeing to it, you should have allowed Procter to make contact. He’s the one I deal with. No one else. I’m going to leave now. I’ve given you the courtesy of not killing you or your men because of your relationship with Procter. And that’s a courtesy I’ll only grant once.’

‘Procter’s in the hospital,’ Muir said. ‘He was hit by a DUI. Some wasted guy in a Hummer. Procter’s got a shattered hip and a bruised spine, and even if he wasn’t high on opiates nine hours out of ten, he’s got a broken jaw the size of a balloon. He’s not in a position to contact anyone, least of all you. At an absolute minimum he’s going to be out of action for the next few weeks and won’t be back at the company for at least a couple of months. I can’t wait that long.’

Victor remained silent for a moment, then said, ‘Tell me what you know about me.’

Muir stopped rubbing her stomach. ‘I know you’re a professional assassin. Formerly freelance. Currently an unofficial asset for the Agency. Which I find amusing seeing as the CIA has a crisp termination order with your name on it. Well, codename. You’re also wanted by the Russian SVR and FSB, French Secret Service, Israeli Mossad and half of the police forces in Europe.’

‘Then when you claim to have so little information about me, how can you possibly know I can do what you need me to?’

‘Because no one else can.’ She winced and rubbed her stomach again.

‘The pain will come and go for about an hour. After that, you’ll be fine. But you might want to skip the situps for a few days.’

She sighed. ‘Thanks for the advice.’

‘What about the rest of your team?’ Victor asked. ‘What do they know about me?’

‘They know even less than I do. The older guy is Francis Beatty. He’s been at the agency for ever. He’s assisting me. The rest are a contract surveillance team purely here to establish if you were who I was looking for. They don’t know what I want with you. All they were told is that you were a contact, albeit a highly dangerous one, and that you would spot them if they were anything less than perfect.’

‘They weren’t close to perfect.’

‘And they’ll be reprimanded appropriately, but I didn’t have a lot of choice using them. You’re not exactly the kind of man that you can walk up to and ask if he’s really the assassin you’re looking for. But whatever, they’re of no danger to you now.’

‘They were never any danger to me.’

‘All I’m asking you is for thirty minutes of your time. That’s all. Just half an hour. Let me tell you what the job is. You don’t like what I have to say you can walk away and you’ll never hear from me again. You’ve got nothing to lose. I’m just asking you to listen to me here. See what I have to say first before you turn me down. I’ll even buy you a coffee. You do drink coffee, don’t you? Or tea if you prefer. You English guys like tea, right? Earl Grey or something like that. I don’t know. I never drink it.’

‘Who said I’m an Englishman?’

‘No one, I just thought that…’

‘Okay,’ Victor said after a moment. ‘I’ll listen to you, but I’ll give you ten minutes of my time. Not a second longer.’

‘Great,’ Muir said. ‘Thank you. But let’s talk somewhere else.’

‘There’s a nice place round the corner where we can talk.’

‘Sounds great,’ Muir said. She touched her stomach. ‘I could really use a sit down, you know?’