Deathlist: A Strikeback Novel by Chris Ryan

Author:Chris Ryan [Ryan, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Thrillers
Amazon: B00X61MY0E
Publisher: Coronet
Published: 2016-01-13T23:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

0128 hours.

The safe house in Fuengirola was a thirty-minute ride away, on the AP-7 motorway that ran between Guadirao to the west and Malaga to the east. Devereaux drove under the limit, keeping the Sprinter purring along at fifty miles per. They stopped to change vehicles at Ojén, a nothing town a couple of miles north of Marbella. There had to have been at least a dozen witnesses to the shooting in Puerto Banus and the van would soon be hot, if it wasn’t already. They pulled into the back of a disused garage on Calle Avellano, bundled Deeds out of the Sprinter and shoved him into the boot of a white SEAT Toledo that Devereaux had stashed the previous day. Then Coles took a jerry can filled with petrol, doused the Sprinter and lit the fucker up. Thirty seconds later they were pulling out onto the main road and motoring east to the safe house. By the time the cops showed up, any DNA evidence or fingerprints would have gone up in smoke.

Twenty-one minutes later the strike team pulled up outside an address on the outskirts of the town, away from the souvenir shops and the London-themed boozers along the bustling seafront. Places with names like the Elephant and Castle, the Mods and Rockers, the Nag’s Head. The safe house was a basement apartment set at the end of a rubbish-strewn street, flanked by ramshackle high-rises and shuttered shop fronts. The walls of the apartment had been soundproofed and they were half a mile from the centre of town. No one would hear Deeds once he started screaming.

The apartment was filthy. Bald had visited it two days before the mission to get the place ready for the grab. There were piss stains on the floor and bars on the windows, and a large brown stain covered most of the ceiling in the living room. The team had laid out clear plastic sheeting on the floor to cover any blood splatters. A single metal chair stood in the middle of the main room with a naked lightbulb hanging directly above. There was a fold-out DIY table to one side of the room with a bunch of tools laid out on it, along with a piece of 2 x 4 and a Bosch cordless power drill. There was also a portable blowtorch and a can of lighter fluid and a box of matches. They had more tools than Homebase, but they wouldn’t be putting together any kitchens tonight.

Bald ran his hands slowly over the tools while Porter and Devereaux hustled Deeds into the room. They stripped him naked and shoved him down onto the chair. Then they wrapped duct tape around his chest to bind him to the chair and tied his ankles to the chair legs with a length of paracord.

‘You can’t fucking do this,’ Deeds snarled. ‘You hear? I got friends in high places, pal. I’m talking serious fucking players. People will be out looking for me.’

They didn’t say a word.

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