Chapters (37)
- Cover
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Chris Ryan Readers’ Club?
- Letter from Author
- About the Author
There was a menacing glint in Mallet’s eyes. A smile cut like a machete across his lips. ‘I told you we’d be fighting mobsters, laddie. Lang’s the target, all right. We’ve had eyes on him for a while.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘We’re going to head to Monte Carlo,’ Mallet said. ‘This morning. A few hours from now. Then we’re going to snatch Lang and make him an offer he can’t refuse.’
Ten
Ten
Silence hung heavy in the air for a beat. Bowman scrutinised the faces on the pinboard, his head spinning. His exhausted mind was struggling to process what was going on. He looked round at Mallet.
‘You knew about the meeting in Monaco? With the Russians?’
Mallet dipped a hand into his jacket pocket, took out a packet of nicotine gum. ‘No smoking in the basement,’ he said. ‘Health and safety.’
He pushed out a piece of gum from the foil pack, popped it into his mouth.
‘We knew some of the details,’ he continued. ‘The basic facts of the meeting. But we didn’t know about President Seguma’s involvement, or the trap the Russians have been planning. Now we do. Thanks to you.’
‘What’s Lang doing out there?’
Mallet chewed loudly as he indicated two other photos pinned to the fabric board. The guy on the left was puffy-faced and balding, with heavily lidded eyes and wispy beard. The pale face on the right had a pointed nose, eyes like bullet holes in a paper target.
‘Lang is due to meet two Russian nationals,’ Mallet explained. ‘Today. Eight hours from now. One of the attendees is Alexei Bezuglov, the Russian ambassador to Monaco.’
He tapped a finger against the picture of the bald guy with the wispy beard.
‘The other is this man,’ he added. ‘Sergei Galkin.’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘You wouldn’t. Galkin is one of the original oligarchs. Late nineties moneyman. Part of the president’s inner circle, back when he was mayor of St Petersburg. Keeps a low profile. He’s the Kremlin’s Mr Fix-It. When they need to make something happen, Galkin is the guy they bring in.’
‘Any idea what this meeting is about?’
‘Six has got a few ideas. They reckon Lang is fixing to make some sort of deal with the Kremlin behind our backs.’
‘What kind of deal?’ asked Bowman.
‘Pressuring him into changing allegiance, maybe. But we don’t know for sure. That’s why we’re going in. To find out what the bastard is up to.’
‘Lang is playing in the big boys’ league now, isn’t he?’
Mallet laughed. ‘He’s come a long way from breaking legs in dodgy East End boozers. That’s for sure.’
‘Where’s the meeting?’