Ghosts - Matt Rogers (warren buffett book recommendations .TXT) 📗

against her chest and letting her sob.

Violetta stepped into the command centre and closed the door. She didn’t seem to want to turn the overhead lights on so she hit the space bar on the keyboard and the flood of screens lit up, bathing them in artificial light.

She found Slater staring, his eyes ablaze with rage.

He said, ‘Point me in the direction of Alastair Icke and give me a gun.’

She said, ‘It’s your lucky day.’

65

The car was a capsule of stress.

Gloria Kerr sat in the back seat, shaking, sweating. She didn’t dare risk the interior lights, so she sat in darkness, swiping at her glowing phone screen. Dutiful, loyal Eddie — one of the men beat to shit at her office complex earlier that day — had showed up with the ride, already having fixed a fresh set of plates before arriving. He’d dropped it off for her after she’d rung him from a payphone, then he’d walked away, melding into the night so she couldn’t see the extent of the damage to his mangled nose for long.

She’d driven less than half a mile before her phone lit up with: Melanie. Then her worst nightmares came true over the course of a two-minute conversation.

After that she’d parked in the middle of nowhere, enshrouded by dormant buildings, and got in the back seat.

She wasn’t sure why.

It’d be easier to make a quick getaway if she didn’t have to peel herself out of the rear seats. But she was panicking, and people do stupid things when they’re not thinking straight.

She couldn’t think straight to save her life.

Trying not to hyperventilate was difficult enough. It was easy to play cool, calm and collected when your family were off-limits. Now everything was different. It had all changed.

She hovered her thumb over Icke’s contact name and held her breath.

Which didn’t help.

She inhaled, exhaled, and dialled.

The phone shook in her hands — not from its own vibration.

She steadied her nerves — and her fingers — as best she could.

On loudspeaker, the ringing ceased and Icke said, ‘Yeah?’

‘Change of plans,’ she said. ‘Don’t kill them yet.’

‘Why?’ he said. ‘I’m pulling in now. What’s the hold up?’

‘I need to speak to one of them.’

Silence.

Kerr said, ‘You still there?’

‘Of course I’m still here,’ Icke said. ‘I’m waiting for an explanation.’

‘Elsa Bell,’ Kerr said. ‘Josefine’s daughter.’

‘Whose daughter?’

‘The woman from today. In the courts.’

‘Ah,’ Icke said. ‘Isn’t that a cruel twist of fate? Deal with them both in one day. Send the mother away and bury the daughter. That poor husband.’

He laughed.

The sickest sound in the world.

Something strange struck Kerr, twisting her insides. She hesitated, momentarily terrified she was having a heart attack. But it subsided after the initial stab, and became an unending falling sensation in her gut, like going over the drop on a rollercoaster. It took her longer than it should have to decipher it.

It was guilt, shame, disgust — all rolled into one.

Sensations she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

She’d been associating with this creep for so long now. She couldn’t remember the normal days anymore. He’d taken advantage of her physically, emotionally, spiritually.

No, she told herself. That’s weak. You always had a choice.

You’re no better than he is.

She suppressed the urge to vomit. It’d kill the conversational timing, and she couldn’t afford it.

He said, ‘Are you still there?’

She said, ‘Yeah. Sorry. Shitty reception.’

‘So what do you want?’ he said. ‘What do you need to know?’

‘I’ve picked up a new lead,’ she said. ‘Josefine might know more than we think. She can still talk from prison. She can get lawyers. I need to know what Elsa told her mother.’

Icke said, ‘Easy. I’ll kill the other two and get everything out of Elsa. Trust me on that. Now go back to bed.’

‘No,’ Kerr hissed.

Everything hung in the balance.

Icke paused. ‘What are you not telling me?’

‘Alastair…’

‘Have you forgotten everything I have on you?’ Icke said. ‘Are you ashamed now? Thinking maybe the body count shouldn’t be quite so high?’

Kerr closed her eyes.

As if that could stop him seeing into her soul.

She said, ‘Kill the bitches. See if I care. I’m just trying to cover for you.’

‘Why exactly do you need to be the one to talk to her?’

‘Because you’ll go about it your way,’ Kerr said. ‘It’s the only way you know, and it’s effective, but you’ll only break her. She’ll give you anything to stop the pain. There’s no guarantee it’ll be accurate.’

‘She’s a teenager,’ Icke said. ‘She’s not that smart, or that brave.’

‘Why risk it? I can be there in half an hour. I’ll talk to her — woman to woman. I’ll play nice. She’ll do what I say.’

‘Because my hangover’s already kicking in and I want this wrapped up fast.’

Kerr said, ‘When did you get sloppy? I thought you were better than this.’

Silence.

The rollercoaster drop got steeper.

Kerr thought, Did I offend him? Have I lost him?

Then Melanie’s fate was sealed.

Granted, Icke had sealed her fate long ago by introducing her to Wan’s and then relentlessly threatening Gloria not to interfere.

But Kerr had always hoped for a light at the end of the tunnel.

Had she just snuffed it out?

She got desperate.

She said, ‘How’s the wife?’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘If the bedroom’s still dead,’ Kerr said, ‘I can do that routine you like.’

He hesitated. ‘Go on.’

She said, ‘You know what I’m talking about. After I get the information out of Elsa and we deal with those three brats. Right there in the office, I can rock your world.’

He grunted.

He said, ‘Thirty minutes. If you’re not there by then, I’ll start interrogating Elsa without you.’

She said, ‘You got it.’

He said, ‘See you soon, baby.’

She hung up and lowered her face to the back of the driver’s seat. She brought her head back and smacked her forehead into the cotton material, and the foam beneath. She did it three consecutive times, until a splitting headache came to life.

She deserved nothing less.

She let herself cry for thirty seconds, then cut it off and rang Melanie’s number back.

66

King