After a couple of miles of following frustratingly slow traffic, he took the Focus off the highway on to surface streets of a housing scheme not dissimilar to Liberty City. He followed the streets until he found what he was looking for. A convenience store was like a candle to moths, drawing people to its doors with the promise of bargains. Rickard parked the Focus in a row of similarly non-intrusive vehicles, blending himself among the clientele going in and out of the store. Unlike the others who parked nose in to the curb, he reversed into the parking space in order that he’d have a quick getaway if the cops turned up. He angled his mirrors so he could discreetly check anyone coming toward him from the direction of the store and then swept the roadway with his gaze. Happy that he wasn’t attracting any untoward attention, he pulled out his mobile phone and tapped a hot key.

The phone rang a half dozen times.

The buzzing in his ear told him what he’d already taken for granted. Any other time his client had picked up almost immediately but this time there was reticence in answering. Probably wasn’t expecting a call from a dead man, he thought. Except enough time had passed since the attempt on his life back at his apartment for the news that he’d escaped unscathed to have filtered back. However, the last thing expected would be for him to call in now.

“Rickard?”

At the sound of the voice he blinked slowly.

“You were perhaps expecting someone else?”

His retort was ignored. “Why didn’t you call in sooner?”

“I’ve been rather busy.”

“So I’ve seen. Things are getting out of hand up there. I lost some good people.”

“They weren’t that good,” Rickard said.

“Obviously not. Joe Hunter took them out easily . . . he’s more dangerous than I thought.”

Rickard felt a dull thud in his gut. Something squirmed there, reaching for his heart. The serpent stirring.

Hunter took them out.

Rickard had no sense of speaking the words aloud and was surprised to hear an answer. “I sent a team to offer you assistance. They spotted Hunter and rashly believed that they were his equal. All but one of them was killed.”

Rickard struggled to comprehend what he was being told. Finally he understood. The diner. The shoot-out. Those were the people his client was talking about. Of course there was no way that he’d get a confession about the three who’d come to his apartment.

“You shouldn’t have sent anyone.” His words were loaded.

“I thought it best.” No argument. “Hunter has proven himself to be the most dangerous of your targets. The situation with Imogen Ballard told me that the job would require more than one man to complete.”