Pakhan's Fate

Darren Bell

Description

Ken Lacey, former Military Intelligence Officer and now Fine Art Expert is bored. A disastrous ending to a hush hush job in Venice some months earlier means he's stuck with short term contracts finding stolen antiques. Although financially lucrative his talent is being wasted chasing paper and haunting second rate auction houses. When he receives an offer out of the blue from a former boss in the Police, Ken jumps at the chance to redeem his reputation. The opportunity to also extract vengeance on his nemesis, Pakhan, seduces him completely. Ken is soon being manipulated by Gilbertson, a man who claims to be on the side of justice. As he spirals into danger Ken finds himself working with Leonardo, a double agent from the Italian Guardia, to whom he already owes a debt of honour. As both men fall deeper into the world of terrorism and geopolitics, they soon have to run for their lives. Only a deal with the devil can save them, and the free world, from the end times.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: e-bookPartnership
• Date de parution: 06 février 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783018871
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

PAKHAN S FATE
BY
SUSAN MAY
WRITING AS
DARREN BELL
Website: www.darrenbellreads.com
Twitter: @DarrenBellreads
Email: [e-mail]
2016 Susan May
Susan May has asserted her rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in eBook format in 2016
ISBN: 9781783018871
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.
All names, characters, places, organisations, businesses and events are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty one
Chapter Twenty two
Chapter Twenty three
Chapter Twenty four
Chapter Twenty five
Epilogue
Prologue
They re guarding a fake. The real one s hidden. What I m about to tell you has been passed down through my family for centuries. My Uncle gave me the information on my twenty first birthday when I came in to my full inheritance.
The dying man paused and wheezed. His faded eyes stared into Ken s,
I ve not got long. Ironic that I m spilling my final secret to the likes of you is it not?
Call it a final shot at redemption?
Aye, right.
It s never too late.
Christ, a confessor and enforcer in one.
If you like.
That s as maybe. You come highly recommended. My conscience won t give me peace, and although I ve squandered most of my life, and fortune, I did pledge an oath. It s one I intend to keep, so listen.
An hour later Ken waited patiently in the queue. The visitors leaving the prison shuffled forward, one at a time. The frequent fliers knew the routine and he simply followed their lead, recovered his belongings and passed through three sets of security gates into the September sunshine. As Ken drove along the motorway that shadowed the river from Glasgow down to the tail of the bank, he replayed every word of the deathbed confession. It was the stuff of fairy stories and had the ring of a contrived film plot, but he already knew enough to believe at least some of what he d been told.
Ken s thoughts were interrupted by his phone, ringing through the hands free,
Is that Lacey, Ken Lacey?
Yes, who s this?
The caller ignored the question and fired out instructions
You ve spoken to Sir James so you know the score. I m the one that ll get you in. Leave the motorway when you get to the exit for Mount Randall and follow the private road. I ll meet you past the main house at the old stables.
As the line went dead Ken gave a faint smile. The clipped tone and absolute presumption he d been listening understood and would recall every word verbatim reminded him of a former army boss. Ken drove on into the early autumn sunset, enjoying the moment of anticipation as the hills ahead glowed amber and gold.
Chapter One
Thick haar rolled across the sand, trailing the voices drifting up from the beach. The nearby hotel was in darkness but for the light above the entrance and some decorative carriage lamps linking the car park with the public road.
Tomorrow then, you ll pick up the others and go in before dawn the following day?
Yes, they re already at the marina.
Good. If we succeed then we retire from this part of our lives, at least for a few years.
If we fail?
This may be our last chance. I know what you think. We re taking a risk coming back here, but, hell, you more than anyone understands what it means to me,
Totally. It s the ultimate prize.
Beyond compare.
The men shook hands and Pakhan stood watching as the tail lights from the hired car faded into the night. He turned away from the road and moved towards the doorway. Just as Pakhan reached the stone steps he heard a noise and turned to face the manicured lawn that ran down to the dunes, automatically reaching for the gun concealed beneath his tweed jacket.
Moving out of the light he crouched behind a nearby gorse bush. Pakhan s night vision was excellent but no match for the impenetrable fog that had now settled round the beach head. After twenty minutes he gave up, the cramped position telling on his knees and patience. Once back inside he risked a short call,
Where are you now?
Making good progress. There s no other traffic and it s a clear night at this side of the peninsula. What is it?
Probably nothing but I ve spent too long watching our backs to ignore my instincts. I was convinced someone was hanging about in earshot of our meeting. Sure you re not being followed?
Certain. The only travellers are me and the occasional sleep walking sheep. Don t worry; I ll make Claonaig well before the first ferry.
Good night then. Forget I gave in to my paranoia.
No problem, we re all on edge before a job this personal.
Pakhan ended the call and poured himself a large measure of 11 year old Longrow malt whisky, irritated he d been spooked by memories in the mist.
Chapter Two
It was just after seven a.m. when Ken finished his coffee and walked out onto the street. They d arrived the previous evening on the summer ferry. Gilbertson had checked them in to the refurbished hotel on the Campbeltown seafront. Ken was getting into the driver s seat of his four by four when his mobile buzzed. It was Gilbertson.
How did it go last night? Are they planning what we thought?
Yes.
Did they go into details?
I heard enough.
Weapons?
Not mentioned explicitly. They re too careful for that but presume yes - he can bring in almost anything concealed on a private plane.
At least we got a head start and moved the true Orb to safety. Are you set for the chase when I lay the trail later today?
I am.
Good. I suggest no contact unless something goes wrong. See you in forty eight hours.
Ken started the car, switched the phone to hands free and drove off to join the short queue for the early boat back to Ardrossan. Once aboard he did a quick sweep of the public areas before picking up a mug of tea and the morning paper. As Ken sat on the viewing deck watching the original boomtown fade into the early morning sun he gave a wry smile at the division of labour. While Gilberston took part in a guided whisky tour, private tasting and gourmet lunch Ken would be staking out a crumbling mansion house.
The night before, Ken had taken the golf resort s shuttle bus from Campbeltown to Machrihanish, grabbing the last seat alongside a group of loud and good humoured German golfers returning to their hotel after dinner at the sister hotel in town.
He had then spent an uncomfortable hour hiding out before tailing Pakhan and The Fixer. After walking the five miles back to Campbeltown Ken had snatched some sleep before a shower and quick breakfast.
According to Gilbertson the plan was simple. Ken wasn t convinced.
He d been told to meet the other two Protectors at the decoy site. Once there, they d lie in wait for Pakhan s henchmen. Before their trip to the Kintyre Peninsula Ken had helped Gilbertson secure the original Orb at a different location. Gilbertson was convinced the misdirection would work. It was clear Gilbertson had an inside man and as the ferry made its way to the mainland Ken wondered how it would play out if Pakhan sussed their game too early. The authorities would of course treat the whole thing as deniable, but from bitter experience Ken knew they would also be first to take any credit if the plan worked. He thought the entire scheme was flimsy but when his former boss had contacted him with the deal he d said yes on the spot. Ken was bored investigating fake insurance claims and auction scams involving bogus antiques. He d recently picked up additional commissions that traced and reported illegal sales and attempted fencing of artefacts stolen from war or disaster torn parts of the world. Lucrative though the contracts all were, he d been marking time ever since the Venice incident last year.
By mid-afternoon Ken was passing through the gates of the old stately home. He was due to meet the two men in the grounds and he was hoping for a better reception than the gun wielding silence he d encountered during their first face to face forty eight hours earlier.
The Range Rover Sport coped easily with the rutted trail leading away from the tree lined main drive. He hid the vehicle inside a broken down stable block next to an abandoned chapel and waited in the nearby trees, thankful for the soft breeze as the unseasonably warm September sun beat down. Ken had timed his arrival deliberately ahead of schedule, not certain why he d been picked out ahead of the other two Protectors for Gilbertson s jaunt to Campbeltown.
Gotcha
Ken started as he realised the whisper on his neck was the breath of a man who d crept up to stand inches from his back. Ken turned and grabbed the Asian-Scot s wrist, deftly flicking it one turn short of a serious sprain but more than enough to release the hunting knife pointing at him while pushing forward and forcing the other man onto his knees. Ken had him in a choke hold when a second voice interrupted the scuffle,
O.K. you ll do.
What the hell..?
Calm it man, we re all on the same side. I