No Prisoners by Anthony Vincent Bruno

Author:Anthony Vincent Bruno [Bruno, Anthony Vincent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-26T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

'Do you still seek my death, Sara Brahms?' I asked the former Mossad agent.

'You surely do not have to ask me that Ingram. When this sheikh business is finished, I will confront you personally with what you have done.'

'What I was paid to do,' I interrupted, 'my work was never personal. They are dead, I regret ever working for the Arab.'

'As you say, my colleagues are dead. You will deal with me when we are done with Sheik Abdullah ibn Saud. Until then, Detective Chief Inspector Peters requires our cooperation in seeing to his death. I hate you Ingram . . . never forget that.'

'Speaking of Scotland Yard's 'Columbo' . . . where is he? I thought the man was as punctual as Big Ben.'

'He is bringing in an extra pair of hands to help with our task.' She answered, flicking back her hair that had grown since we last met. Auburn hair, the type you see in those fancy television commercials where the model pouts, "because I'm worth it" while flicking her hair as though it were an Olympic event. To quote an old cliché, Brahms had beauty as well as . . . beauty. Her career in Mossad intelligence gave her an edge, as did her looks. Athletic, not in the sinewy form but in the "everything in the right place way" with that hint of Middle Eastern exquisiteness that she did not enhance with make-up of any kind. She seemed to want to hide her curves, as with today's outfit, her sports bra obvious to a man of my discerning eye.

We were standing facing each other, with plenty of unoccupied seats available in the Central London bar. She just did not want to sit down with me. I chose the meeting place because of the multiple Underground stations nearby and the crowds that swamped the area, all four seasons. Confusion and collateral damage were high on the list of the unusual DCI Peters' priorities, though I still could not trust him - he was establishment and I was a former assassin who had contracted targets on English soil. My mobile vibrated.

Outside now, Black Range Rover, extra passenger is friendly. Inform Miss Brahms please.

There was no need to identify the caller, as it was a new pay-as-you-go mobile that only DCI Peters knew of.

I showed the text to Brahms who picked up her jacket from the bar stool and walked out onto the crowded street. I followed and soon saw DCI Peters sitting beside a red headed squaddie type in the front seat.

'We finally meet, Mister Ingram.' The cop said turning around to shake my hand as Sara and I joined the warmth of the car's interior.

I extended my hand. 'Maurice, it's a pleasure. Who's the youngster?'

'Youngster?' The Scottish man asked as though he was a decorated war hero and film star to boot.

'Mister Ingram . . . meet Mister Flynn, Mickey Flynn.'

'Mister Flynn!' I pushed my hand forwards but his remained clasped to his belt, split between black trousers, a blue polo neck and black jacket.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.