The Game (Tom Wood) - By Tom Wood Page 0,43

panelling and windows. A guy with a rifle covered me while I crossed between the taxi and the limousine. Someone that cautious does not give out his real name to a man like Kooi.’

Muir’s eyes widened. ‘Just who is this guy?’

‘A man of considerable means. I’m sure you can imagine an armoured Rolls-Royce limousine is beyond the buying power of any but the considerably wealthy. His watch was worth more than the Saab taxi that took me to meet him. His suit was from Savile Row in London and cost double what you take home in a month.’

Muir pursed her lips, a little insulted, but didn’t act on it. She said, ‘Describe him, other than his wealth.’

‘Average height and build. Late twenties. Brown hair. Blue eyes. His accent drifted between British and American, so he was born in one but spends most of his time in the other. His taste in clothes and cars might suggest he’s from the UK originally, but there’s no reason why he couldn’t have been born in the States but adopted the style of the British upper classes.’

‘Sub thirty doesn’t seem old enough to be doing what he’s doing.’

‘My eyesight is reliable,’ Victor said.

‘That’s not what I meant. I mean he’s younger than you or I, but he’s got himself in a position where he’s brokering contract killing. That’s some feat. I want to know how he managed it.’

‘The answer could be as simple as he’s good at what he does.’

Muir nodded. ‘Maybe it’s a family business.’

‘Then it’s one he’s been involved in for a while. Kooi isn’t the first killer he’s dealt with like that.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because he wasn’t afraid of me in the least.’

‘But you said he had an ex-military bodyguard and a sniper as backup. They’re two good reasons not to be scared of you.’

‘I was in the back of the limousine with him for several minutes. The marksman couldn’t have seen me, let alone intervened, while I was sitting within a couple of feet of his boss and behind the best armoured glass money can buy. There was a partition between the rear compartment and the driver. I could have snapped Leeson’s neck before the driver even knew Leeson was in trouble.’

‘Well, when you put it like that…’

The waitress appeared with Muir’s coffee and a glass of iced water for Victor.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

She smiled and left.

Muir slurped her coffee, then said, ‘Tell me about the fake taxi driver.’

‘She said her name was Francesca Leone. I have reason to believe that name is more likely to be genuine than Leeson’s.’

Muir gave him a look. ‘Reason to believe?’

‘I can be very conducive to honesty.’

Muir raised her eyebrows briefly. She drank some more coffee. ‘Thanks, I needed this. What was the bodyguard like?’

‘Six feet tall. Two hundred pounds. Mid thirties. I didn’t get a name and I’m not sure of his accent.’

‘The guy with the rifle?’

‘I didn’t see him.’

‘Then how do you know he was there?’

‘Experience. The marksman presented a neat and easy way of bringing things to a close if Leeson hadn’t liked what he saw.’

‘So he must like you, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking here now. But I thought you said you didn’t speak about a contract?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘But he did like what he saw, yes?’

‘I believe so.’

Muir put down her coffee cup. ‘So what happened?’

‘He gave me a test.’

‘I take it you don’t mean a written multiple choice.’

‘He asked me to kill the driver, Francesca.’

Muir sat back and stared at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses. ‘And did you?’

‘No.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

Victor said, ‘That’s not how I operate.’

‘You’re not supposed to operate like you, you’re supposed to be Kooi.’

‘Would you have preferred it if I had killed her?’

She hesitated, then ignored the question. ‘How did he react when you refused to comply?’

‘He attempted to persuade me to accept his offer. When I wouldn’t, he drew the meeting to a close.’

‘Shit.’

Victor sipped some water.

‘Sorry,’ Muir said. ‘Procter told me to watch my language around you.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘You said you didn’t discuss the contract. But maybe Francesca was the job.’

‘No, it was a test. Leeson didn’t need to have me fly in to do it. The marksman or the limousine driver could have killed her. He could have shot her himself. She wasn’t a hard target.’

‘Okay, but job or not, you didn’t kill her. So you failed the test. It doesn’t matter if he liked you before that point. If you aren’t going to follow his orders and kill when he asks,

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