Sam Wylde 02 Nobody Gets Hurt by Robert Ryan as RJ Bailey

Author:Robert Ryan as RJ Bailey [Bailey, Robert Ryan as RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471157219
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Normandy, France

The others had decamped to the kitchen. It wasn’t so much a cellar as a semi-basement, with windows set high into the walls. Light slanted through them onto stone-flagged floors, a cast-iron cooking range you could feed an army from – or an army of movie extras – two huge American-style fridges and a battle-scarred pine table that could seat twenty. An electric kettle was creaking its way to boiling on a steel prep surface. The three of them looked a little lost in the vastness of the place.

On the wall above the hog-roasting-sized fireplace was a security camera screen with a feed from the gate at the entrance to the chateau’s drive. So we could see anyone who arrived. If they bothered to come in the front door, that is.

I wouldn’t say the atmosphere was jolly when I walked in, but they all seemed to have relaxed a little. I hoped that had nothing to do with the bottle of cognac sitting on the table in front of Myles, which was placed next to his tablet. I hadn’t realised he had one of those in his pack. Did those things have GPS in them?

‘Look what I found,’ he said, waving the bottle by the neck.

‘Put it back,’ I said. Mrs Irwin bristled a little at my brusqueness, but I was past caring.

Myles looked crestfallen.

‘Let the kid have a slug,’ said Konrad. ‘Where’s the harm now? I’ve found the hot water. We can all have a shower. Or a bath, if you insist on being very English. There’s no milk, but coffee and tea. Some canned food. Pizza in the freezer out back.’

‘Pizza.’ Myles said it like he had just been offered truffled lobster. ‘What kind?’

‘The frozen kind,’ I said.

‘Is something wrong, Miss Wylde?’ The mother was more perceptive than the son, I’ll give her that. And, for the moment, than my wounded shooter. I recognised the little skip in his step. He’d been shot and lived. The rest of the day always seemed like a bonus after that.

I moved over to where the gunman was sitting. The big FK was an arm’s length away from him. I pushed it closer to him. Only then did he catch the look on my face. He sat up a little straighter.

‘What’s up?’

‘I think it’s time for a little show and tell. I’ll have that coffee if you’re making.’

I watched him get up, the upper body held a little stiff. I don’t care what he said, that gunshot would slow him down, at least for the next twenty-four hours.

I stared at Myles while Konrad sorted us out with drinks. His eyes kept flicking to the wall behind me, where the screen showed the front gate. It was as if he was expecting someone.

I didn’t speak again until the coffee was in front of me. ‘OK, leaving aside my personal feelings, is it possible the subject of whatever is happening here is not you, but fallout from what Myles has been up to?’

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Mrs Irwin.

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