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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Luke borrowed a pencil torch from one of the team and now he stepped forward, shining it on to the first face he came to in the row. As he did so the moon appeared from behind a cloud, bathing everything in a ghostly, silver glow. These people laid out at his feet, these monsters, he thought, looked almost beatific in this light.

He recognized the first man immediately. It was Max, the taciturn driver who’d been sent to pick him up from the pub car park just a few hours and half a lifetime ago. He moved on to the next. A man he didn’t recognize. Then another. Then Klaus, the tall German he was supposed to ride with. His heart jumped. Because the next one he came to after that was Niamh, or whatever her real name was. Her scarf was still half wrapped around her face and suddenly he saw her eyelids were fluttering. She was conscious, just. The scarf must have somehow reduced how much Lomatin she’d inhaled. So it wasn’t 100 per cent effective after all. He called to the team and moved aside to give them the space to search and cuff her. Then he took her photo with his phone and sent it straight to the Intel Ops Centre.

They had caught the ringleader alive.

But something still wasn’t right. He had reached the end of the line and someone was missing. He called to one of the three in protective gear, ‘Is that all of them? Are there any more in the vehicles?’

‘No. That’s the lot. Forensics are on their way.’

Luke went back and rechecked every member of WaffenKrieg90 who’d been laid out on the pavement. His heart was beating faster now as his fears were confirmed. Shit. He had been right the first time.

‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed, slamming his fist against the Kevlar armour of his vest in frustration. Hugo Squires had vanished.

115

York Way, King’s Cross, London

Monday, 21 March, 0414hrs GMT

MINUTES. MAYBE JUST seconds. Luke knew that was all they had before Squires was lost in the darkened streets of the capital and racing towards a little-known harbour or a private airstrip.

He called it in at once to Thames House, getting Angela to check the location of Squires’s phone. If he still had it on him, this would be easy. It wasn’t. The answer came back while he was still on the line.