Dead Man's Gift 02 Last Night by Simon Kernick

Author:Simon Kernick [Kernick, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, Crime, Suspense, Short Stories (Single Author), Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9781473505902
Google: 5_bCAgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2014-01-01T22:00:00+00:00

14

The hotel room was small, bare and cold. Outside the window, Tim Horton could hear the low, rhythmic rumbling of the early morning commuter trains as they made the final approach into Paddington Station.

He’d been here for more than two hours now, sitting on the unmade single bed, staring at the wall. Alone and waiting. He looked at his watch constantly, knowing that each passing minute brought him closer to the end. It was less than four hours until Matt Cohen – the sports agent who purportedly knew more about match fixing in English football games than anyone else – appeared at the select committee hearing. He was sure they wanted him to kill Cohen before he made any dramatic revelations. But how? He was a career politician, not ex-SAS. He was incapable of killing anyone. Even with his son’s life at stake.

On the way here, he’d thought about calling Scope again, this time to find out how close he was to locating Max, but had stopped himself, not just because he didn’t want to risk it, but also because, if Scope hadn’t made progress, then in a way it was better not to know. He needed a sliver of hope right now, however small. Guilt was weighing heavily on him, but only because he wasn’t angry with himself for requesting Scope’s help. Ultimately, he felt he’d had no choice. Not when the alternative was … death. The word was so harsh and final. Just the thought of it made him break out into a cold, nauseous sweat.

The phone rang in his suit pocket. It was a blocked number. He answered on the third ring.

‘Hello, Mr Horton,’ said the kidnapper, his voice calm. ‘I see you’re in the room.’

‘I got here a few hours ago,’ Tim said wearily.

‘I want you to know that your son is sleeping soundly. He’s fine now, and if you do what you’re instructed to do, he’ll be back safe and sound with your wife this afternoon. That’s what your sacrifice will achieve. A chance for your son to grow up and have his own children.’

Tim didn’t say anything. There was really nothing to say.

‘In the cupboard opposite the bed, there’s a coat hanging up. Remove it from the hanger.’

‘I want to speak to my son. I need to check he’s okay.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

‘Look, if I’m going to do this –’

‘You are going to do this. And you’re not going to speak to your son. Now do as you’re told.’

The kidnapper’s words exposed Horton’s impotence. Feeling exhausted and beaten, he slowly got up from the bed and opened the cupboard. The coat – a tatty-looking black Crombie – looked ordinary enough. And it was. It was what was hanging underneath it that set his pulse racing.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he whispered.

‘Now you know what you’ve got to do,’ said the kidnapper.

Frank Bale watched the hotel-room interior on the screen in his study. This was the moment of truth. If Tim Horton was going to panic and run, now would be the time.

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