Rebel Elite: Sam Driver #1 by Rob Aspinall

Author:Rob Aspinall [Aspinall, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rob Aspinall Books
Published: 2023-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

24

They took Yedmenov’s cars to an abandoned dock, among the weeds, workshops, and rusting hulls of long-retired ships.

Driver shivered at the chill of the night air as she climbed out of the lead Mercedes. Wells opened the boot and dragged Yedmenov out, carrying him with Pope’s help to the edge of the water.

Baptiste pulled a long, heavy chain from the boot of the second Mercedes. In the spill of the headlights, they wrapped it around the Russian’s waist.

‘You think you can get rid of me?’ Yedmenov said, as Driver, Lim and Rios gathered round. ‘There’ll be repercussions.’

Pope returned to the second car. He came back with a heavy kettle bell and a padlock, more items they’d found in the basement of Yedmenov’s club. He threw the padlock to Wells and looped the chain through the kettle bell handle. Wells secured the padlock so the kettle bell hung between Yedmemov’s legs.

‘We’re not going to kill you, Oleksandr,’ Baptiste said. ‘So long as you’re willing to cooperate.’

‘Cooperate how?’

Driver reached inside her handbag and found the bullet she’d prised from the safe house wall. She tossed it to Yedmenov.

He caught it and rolled it between his fingers. ‘What’s this?’

‘We want to know who fired it,’ she said.

‘Anyone could have fired it,’ Yedmenov replied.

‘Who are you selling arms to in Libya?’ Wells asked.

‘No one,’ Yedmenov insisted.

‘January Seven?’ Driver asked.

‘This is for the latest model of carbine rifles,’ Yedmenov said. ‘You think they have the finances? Please.’

‘Then who is buying them off you?’ Wells asked, tying the loose end of the chain off around a mooring post.

‘I’m not the only one selling these,’ Yedmenov replied.

‘Maybe not,’ Driver said, catching the bullet as the Russian threw it back. ‘But I bet you’re the only one selling US-built MRAPs.’

‘Armoured vehicles?’ Yedmenov said. ‘I haven’t sold one of those in years.’

‘You sure about that?’ Baptiste asked.

‘Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure.’

Pope consulted Driver. ‘You want us to tip him?’

‘Oh please,’ Yedmenov smirked. ‘You think I’m afraid of a little water?’

Driver gave the nod. ‘Take a breath, Oleksandr.’

Pope gave Yedmenov a hard shove. He fell backwards off the dock with a heavy splash, sinking out of sight in the deep, black water.

Wells set the timer on his watch. Considering Yedmenov’s age, body shape and lifestyle, Driver calculated forty seconds.

‘I have to hand it to you,’ Baptiste said to Lim. ‘I wasn’t sure the joints would work. Of course, I’d have preferred if they’d worked a bit sooner.’

Driver shrugged. ‘We needed time for him to make us.’

‘It was good planning,’ Wells said, checking his watch. ‘You did okay, Baptiste.’

‘Just okay?’ Baptiste huffed.

‘You said seven guys,’ Wells replied, counting the seconds. ‘You didn’t mention Lurch.’

‘Sergei must be new,’ Baptiste said. ‘It used to be just Slavan and his grunts.’

‘Well now he’s got no guys,’ Pope added. ‘What was in those spliffs, anyway?’

‘Secret recipe,’ Lim said with a relaxed smile.

‘And you had to put cannabis in your own joints?’ Driver asked.

Rios shrugged, soft and mellow. ‘Had to make it convincing.’

Pope turned to Lim.

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