Sharks by Matt Rogers

Sharks by Matt Rogers

Author:Matt Rogers [Rogers, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-14T16:00:00+00:00


45

Slater was halfway to the villa’s gate with the logbook in his pocket when Alexis called from the porch.

He turned to see her waving him over.

Beside him, King said, ‘It’s alright. There’s time.’

‘You sure?’ Slater said. ‘Looks like you’ve got somewhere to be.’

‘I just want to get this done.’

‘You woke up angry or something?’

‘No more than usual,’ King said. ‘Something about Walcott just pisses me off.’

Slater gave a sardonic smile. ‘Keep this mean streak up and you’ll have blood pressure like mine.’

‘I saw your last check-up. You might be the healthiest man alive.’

Slater sighed. ‘It’s metaphorical.’

‘I get it. Go. I’ll be here.’

Slater jogged back to Alexis. She reached out and took his hands and kissed him.

He said, ‘You’re affectionate this morning.’

‘When am I not?’

‘Touché.’

‘I just want you to know,’ she said, ‘I’ll be here when you get back. What happened last night won’t happen again.’

He paused. ‘I wasn’t angry about yesterday, if that’s what you think. I care about you, that’s all.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘And if you’ve taught me anything these past few months, it’s to be ruthless on myself. I was dumb and made a dumb call. Just because I can defend myself now, doesn’t mean I should go out seeking trouble.’

‘Why not?’ he said. ‘I do it all the time.’

He kissed her again, then went back to King.

King said, ‘What was that about?’

He didn’t know how to respond, then found the words. ‘I think she’s the one I’ve been looking for my whole life.’

He left it at that.

So did King.

They walked into town, rented an open-topped jeep and drove it out west. There’d been talk about doubling back and gearing up with the HKs, but they had enough tactical awareness to know this wasn’t the right time for a shootout.

If the safe house was fortified, they’d retreat.

If it wasn’t, they’d go in, but it’s much easier to hide a Glock than a fully automatic rifle.

They could run into all sorts who weren’t employed by Walcott — cops making routine checks, port workers on smoke breaks, Good Samaritans pouncing on two heavily-built enforcer-looking types sniffing around places they shouldn’t. It was easier to worm their way out with words than to hold ordinary civilians at the end of HK417 battle rifles.

King drove, drinking in the sun beating down from the open sky. ‘I could get used to this.’

‘Retirement on your mind?’

King smiled at the joke. They’d both tried it before. Separately. It hadn’t exactly worked out.

King said, ‘What’s that quote about insanity?’

Slater grinned. ‘Doing the same thing over and over, expecting shit to change?’

‘That’s the one.’

They used the Warren J. Levarity Highway to circle around the port, keeping the deep blue harbour water to their left, then drove slowly into Southwest Point, just inland from Wild Goose Town. When the road turned from bitumen to sand they pulled to the side, parked the jeep under the shade of a twisted dead tree, and got out. Neither spoke a word, but the tactics were shared. In the field they were becoming symbiotic.



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