The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

took his point. ‘So let’s check it,’ he said, stepping off.

‘Wait,’ Gunnymede said.

Kostag ignored him. ‘Let’s just see where it goes.’

‘Stop!’ Gunnymede said firmly.

Kostag stopped to look back at him.

‘Maybe he wouldn’t want anyone following him,’ Gunnymede said moving past him. A couple of metres up the hill he crouched to inspect something.

Kostag looked over his shoulder. ‘What is it?’

Gunnymede plucked a long twig and reached out with it. Kostag focused on the end of it. A slender length of wire running across the path.

‘A trip wire?’ Kostag said, shocked.

Gunnymede followed the wire to the base of a tree where something was concealed by foliage. He removed the leaves to expose a black plastic device.

‘What is it?’ Kostag asked.

‘A PAD – perimeter area defence. A directional mine.’ Gunnymede looked back to see where Bethan was. ‘We’re all in the kill zone,’ he added.

Kostag swallowed. ‘Let’s all move away. I’ll call the bomb disposal.’

‘No need,’ Gunnymede said.

‘I must insist you do nothing.’

Gunnymede pulled on the latex gloves. Bethan remained where she was, strangely fascinated. Kostag looked back at her with an exasperated expression.

Gunnymede applied the device’s safety catch, disconnected the rubber strap securing it to the tree, unhooked the trip wire, removed the detonator and offered it all to Kostag. ‘You have an evidence bag?’

Kostag exhaled deeply, pulled a plastic bag from his satchel and held it open for Gunnymede to place the PAD inside.

‘It’s safe,’ Gunnymede said. ‘Careful with the detonator.’

Kostag held the bag with some reverence as Gunnymede moved on.

Ten minutes later, they were back at Kostag’s car.

‘The PAD. Is it British?’ Kostag asked.

‘Yes,’ Gunnymede said.

‘You think the sniper was British,’ Bethan said to Kostag. ‘Which is why we’re here.’

‘There were some pretty good snipers around here by the end of the Kosovo war,’ Kostag said. ‘That was over twenty years ago. Whoever did this had a lot of recent practice killing people. He was a soldier, for sure, wouldn’t you agree?’ He was looking at Gunnymede.

Gunnymede didn’t disagree.

‘What was the motive?’ Bethan asked.

Kostag shrugged. ‘Whatever it was, he had a hatred for K-17. There was no mercy here.’ He closed the trunk. They climbed into the car and it set off back the way it had come.

It was dark as the Mercedes pulled up outside a hotel in the heart of Tirana. Bethan and Gunnymede climbed out as the driver opened the trunk, pulled out their bags and placed them at their feet.

Kostag climbed out and offered his hand to Bethan. ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said as they shook. ‘If we find anything of interest I’ll be in touch.’

‘And the same for us,’ Bethan said.

Kostag looked Gunnymede in the eye and held out his hand. Gunnymede took it and Kostag shook it firmly, as if it was a little more special. ‘And thank you, Devon Gunnymede. It was, how you say, most illuminating. Have a safe trip back home.’

Kostag climbed back into the car and it pulled away.

Gunnymede and Bethan picked up their bags and headed for the hotel.

‘Wheels up at ten?’ Gunnymede asked on receiving his room key.

‘Excuse me.’

‘Ten am, ready to go?’

‘Yep. Sure.’

‘Have a good night,’ he said and walked up the stairs.

She watched him go. That was abrupt. But oh, well.

Gunnymede reached the second floor, walked along a creaky corridor to his door, unlocked it and went inside. After locking the door behind him he took a moment to take in the renaissance styled room that could’ve done with a face lift. In the bathroom was a large old bath with piping hot water. It was the first order of play.

Half an hour later Gunnymede was cleaned up and placing a fresh dressing on his wound. As he applied the last strip of tape a floorboard creaked outside his room. His eyes moved to the bottom of the door. The gap wasn’t large enough to show light from the hallway.

The creak came again. Same floorboard.

He pulled on a shirt as he moved to the door, took a hold of the key and doorknob and paused to listen. Another creak, further away. He opened the door.

Bethan was halfway towards the stairs walking away. ‘I was going to knock but changed my mind,’ she said.

‘Everything okay?’

‘The hotel doesn’t have a restaurant. If you want dinner you’ll have to walk into the town.’

‘Okay – thanks.’

‘Sorry to disturb you.’ She forced a smile and went down the stairs.

Gunnymede stepped back into his room. He felt he’d been rude.

He went to the window and looked onto the hotel entrance as Bethan stepped outside. She paused to look left and right and headed away.

Gunnymede felt a tinge of guilt as he watched her go. Unable to fight it he quickly pulled on his socks and shoes, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Bethan walked along a quiet residential street looking at the architecture of the three story terraced houses on either side. Lights were on in most of the homes with cars parked on the street. She came to a crossroads as a car drove past and looked in every direction as if trying to decide which one to choose. She took the right turn and walked for a few meters before stopping, deciding the way ahead looked too dark.

She went back to the crossroads and straight across but stopped again. It looked worse than the previous option.

‘Do you have any idea where you’re going?’ Gunnymede asked, startling her.

‘You made me jump,’ she said, recovering. ‘The concierge gave me directions to what he described as a nice family restaurant. Left out of the hotel, right, right, left. But now I’m not sure.’

He joined her to take a look at the options.

I haven’t