As though his strength of will could summon the voice again, he pressed the phone to his ear, listening to the soft whoosh of blood through his skull. He sat like that for some time, vision glazed over as he stared into middle space. But the voice didn’t come back. All that happened was that the trembling inside him intensified. He was like a pot coming to the boil, about to spurt scalding liquid everywhere. And now his effort of will was aimed at bringing that under control.

First he closed his phone and slipped it into his pocket. No way would he hit that hot key again. The phone would go unanswered, adding further insult to what he’d already suffered.

He started the car and nosed out into the roadway, blinking his blurred vision away as he swung north. He drove a shade below the speed limit. Careful and considerate: it was a struggle because his rage demanded speed and reckless maneuvers and perhaps a little mayhem and destruction along the way.

I may use you again.

It was those words that angered him most.

He inhaled deeply and then shuddered out a long breath.

No one uses me, he thought. He laughed at the absurdity of it. But the laughter would fool no one, let alone him. So he stopped laughing and chewed at his bottom lip.

He was a professional killer of men, a craftsman, and a master of his art. No one used him. His services came with an unconditional guarantee of excellence. It was a contractual partnership, one that he would never shirk once the deal was made, and a binding promise that his client could not step away from either. Once you were in, you were in for the journey. Of course, the manner of his trade meant that a broken contract could not be pursued in the same way as other businesses. The client’s offer of a “weighty bonus” just did not cut it. Compensation wasn’t the issue. His standing as one at the top of his tree was. No one used Luke Rickard then threw him away like he was a senseless thug scrabbling in the dirt for a handful of scattered coins.

His plan to get out of the country now took on a far more pointed purpose than avoiding a manhunt.

Chapter 30

30

“Man, this takes me back, guys.” Rink was nipping the tip of his tongue between his teeth, enjoying every minute of the experience.

“I’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was,” I grumbled over the high-pitched rush of air snapping at my jumpsuit and trappings.

“Can’t wait,” Rink went on. “The rush, man, haven’t you missed it?”

I just grunted, said, “Just make sure you don’t land on your head.”

Rink laughed at me. Harvey leaned forward, looking past Rink, and shot me a grin of his own. “Worse will be if he lands on our heads.”