The Seventeenth Year (The World Walker Series Book 3) by Sainsbury Ian W

Author:Sainsbury, Ian W. [Sainsbury, Ian W.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

***

Northumbria

Adam spent an hour changing his appearance. The ginger birdwatcher disappeared and a goth, black-haired, with dark mascara and funereal clothing, took his place. Adam thought of this as hiding in plain sight. Sometimes, drawing attention to his appearance was the best way to conceal his identity. No one would ever link his last two personas.

He had unloaded the boat in a secluded bay, then tied the steering wheel in place, started the engine and sent it out to sea. It would be discovered drifting, eventually, and might even be traced back to the cash purchase by the quiet ginger man. After that, the trail would dry up. He’d wiped the boat clean, the knife was now strapped to his leg, and the rifle was at the bottom of the North Sea.

He walked to the road and caught a bus to the nearest town. From there, he took a train south. He disembarked after three stops, well short of the destination on his ticket. A trip to the bathroom and he came out looking like a student - mousy brown hair, heavy glasses and a T-shirt with an Oscar Wilde quote on it. He dumped the goth clothes in different trashcans, then shopped for his next outfit.

By early evening, he had checked into an anonymous hotel and was able to make a private call on a burner cellphone he’d picked up in town. He had memorized the number he needed to call, along with hundreds of similar numbers, during his years working for the Broker.

The call was picked up after the fourth ring.

“Martin, this is Adam,” he said. There was a pause at the other end of the line. Very few people called this number asking for Martin. The voice, when it spoke, had a very slight cockney accent. Adam had dealt with him before. He was reliable. And fast.

“The Broker’s not in business no more,” the voice said.

“I know.”

“Price has gone up.”

“I’ll pay you double the usual rate if you have this information to me within twelve hours. Within six, triple.”

“What if it takes longer than twelve hours?”

“Then I won’t pay you at all. Lost your touch?”

“Yeah, right. You’re funny. Tell me what you need.”

Adam gave him every detail he could think of that might make the search easier. He had confidence in Martin, but he couldn’t help but wonder how the girl’s ability—whatever it was—might affect things. As it turned out, he needn’t have worried.

The phone rang after two hours and twenty-eight minutes. Adam picked it up and listened.

“I have a location for you. She got there tonight. Let’s talk money.”

Martin named an inflated figure. With the Broker out of the picture, he obviously saw no need to honor existing business arrangements. Still, Adam’s purpose would soon be fulfilled. Afterward, maybe, he would gut Martin and wrap his intestines around his throat.

Adam agreed to the figure, giving the location and combination of a self-storage locker in Kings Cross station, which contained slightly more cash than the opportunistic Martin had demanded.

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