Assassins Read online

  Assassins

  A Ryker Returns Thriller

  Rob Sinclair

  Copyright © 2021 Rob Sinclair

  The right of Rob Sinclair to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in

  accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  Print ISBN 978-1-913942-54-0

  Contents

  Love best-selling fiction?

  Also by Rob Sinclair

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  About the Author

  A note from the publisher

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  Also by Rob Sinclair

  James Ryker Series

  The Red Cobra

  The Black Hornet

  The Silver Wolf

  The Green Viper

  The White Scorpion

  * * *

  Ryker Returns Series

  Renegade

  * * *

  The Enemy Series

  Dance with the Enemy

  Rise of the Enemy

  Hunt for the Enemy

  * * *

  The Sleeper 13 Series

  Sleeper 13

  Fugitive 13

  Imposter 13

  * * *

  The DI Dani Stephens Series

  The Essence of Evil

  The Rules of Murder

  Echoes of Guilt

  The Bonds of Blood

  * * *

  Standalone Thrillers

  Dark Fragments

  When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. People know themselves much better than you do. That’s why it’s important to stop expecting them to be something other than who they are. — Maya Angelou

  1

  Doha, Qatar

  Ten pm, but still over thirty degrees Celsius, with choking humidity that sapped his strength with every step, and made his limbs heavy and sluggish. Sweat covered his brow. Thick droplets ran down into the small of his back. His attire didn’t help much. Black tie. The top button of his shirt clung to his neck like a creeper. The fitted cotton stuck to his body all over like armour, weighing him down.

  ‘Over there,’ Elliott said.

  Ryker looked off into the darkness in the direction Elliott had indicated. All he could see across the grass was the line of shrubs that gave way to the road, and the bright street lights beyond. Traffic hustled along, though in this part of the city, at this time of night, the road was far from busy.

  ‘I don’t see anything,’ Ryker said.

  ‘Behind the bushes. Sure I saw someone.’

  Ryker stared as they continued to walk through the dark. No. There was no one there.

  ‘I should go and check,’ Elliott said.

  Ryker nodded. Elliott set off at pace and Ryker took a wider arc in the direction his colleague was headed for.

  Moments later Elliott gave his answer, his voice echoing in Ryker’s earbud. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Better safe than sorry.’

  ‘What’s taking you two so long?’

  Another voice in Ryker’s ear now. Nadia Lange.

  ‘We’ll be there in thirty seconds,’ he responded.

  It wasn’t a bad estimate. Elliott regrouped with Ryker and they carried on across the dark grassy area. They reached the edge of the red stone wall twenty-eight seconds later. Ryker had counted each one of the seconds in silence, a basic aid to keep his breathing and his heart rate and his mind steady in anticipation of the task that lay ahead.

  They pulled to a stop at the wall and Ryker looked around. All clear. There was no one following in the park behind them. Why would there be? Ryker listened to the sounds drifting over from the other side of the wall. Still distant. They were necessarily entering through a quiet corner, though he could still make out chatter. String music. The chinking of glasses. One or two voices louder and more boisterous than others even though it was still early – relatively.

  ‘We’re good,’ Ryker whispered to Elliott. They moved a few steps along until they reached the door in the wall. Elliott went one side, Ryker the other, neither standing too close to the wood, just in case. Both had one hand inside their suit jackets, at the ready.

  Ryker reached out with his free hand and knocked. Lightly, yet loud enough for anyone standing on the other side to hear.

  There’d better bloody be someone standing there, Ryker thought as he waited.

  A clunk. A click. The door was pulled open and light surged out from within. Enough to reveal the face of the lone man who’d opened up. Khadri. Not one of the crew, but a worker here. A worker who’d been paid handsomely – and had his arm twisted more than a little – for this small yet crucial role.

  The team for this operation, including Ryker in the lead, numbered seven. Four would be on the inside tonight with Ryker, but there had simply been no feasible way to get all five of them on the official guest list. Only two were. Plus they had their ‘chauffeur’ with them. Ryker and Elliott would make their own way in. The remaining two would stay outside.

  ‘Thanks,’ Ryker said as he moved past Khadri who was practically shaking from nerves. ‘You’ve done your part. Get on with your night.’

  Khadri nodded and scuttled off.

  ‘You trust him?’ Elliott said.

  ‘Doesn’t matter now.’

  ‘About time,’ Lange said. She was one of the two on the outside. Not just backup, but an extra set of eyes and ears. Lange was in charge of the drone, which was high enough in the air for its rotors to be silent from the ground, but remained close enough for her to keep watch on below with the craft equipped with both a night vision and thermal camera. Ryker glanced up now, but could see nothing of the machine.

  Assisting Lange, in the back of the van two hundred yards away, was Joey Weller. The technology guy. In charge not just of the team’s co
mms, but for monitoring their positions with their trackers. He would also keep a close eye and ear on the airwaves and, if needed, do what he could to hack into and disrupt the host’s security system.

  ‘Has anyone seen Alpha yet?’ Ryker asked.

  ‘Yes,’ came the reply from Penny Diaz. ‘He’s with the posse from the ministry.’

  The ministry being the Ministry of Energy and Industry, responsible for handling a significant element of Qatar’s burgeoning economy. The guest list for this shindig, in what was essentially a state-run palace which had been given over to tonight’s foreign host for the duration of his stay in the emirate, included not just the bosses from the ministry, but several other high-ranking politicians from Qatar and further afield. Not to mention a large number of expats – predominantly from Europe and Asia – who were here to wine and dine and, over the course of their dealings here, make themselves and their friends a hell of a lot richer than they already were.

  ‘Security?’ Ryker said.

  ‘As we expected on the outside,’ came the gruff voice of Ali Salman, who was Diaz’s better half tonight – at least to onlookers. Salman was the ‘local’ among them, and a genuine employee at the Ministry of Interior, even if for the past six months he’d been taking instructions from Ryker. ‘I’ve spied six so far on the inside too.’

  ‘Alpha’s?’

  ‘No doubt, judging by the look of them.’

  Ryker checked his watch. Five past ten. They had to be on the boat at midnight – Salman included. There was no way he could stay in the country after tonight.

  The boat was a forty-minute drive away. They didn’t have long.

  ‘Okay, let’s get to it,’ Ryker said.

  He and Elliott moved off from the dark corner at the service side of the palace. Nothing salubrious here, although the scale of the palace was already apparent, rising tall and wide in front of them. They casually moved across the bland and quiet space at the back, around a corner and into the manicured gardens, then along a twisting path toward the hubbub. No one here, but they soon had some of the partygoers in their sights – stragglers who’d come outside for a quick smoke. Men only, all wearing identical-looking suits to those that Ryker and Elliott had on.

  ‘Evening,’ Elliott said with a nod to a group of three who glanced their way.

  The men nodded in return before getting back to their nicotine and champagne. Ryker and Elliott headed up the stone steps to the side entrance the men had come out of: a wide, arched and vaulted space that wouldn’t have looked out of place at the front of a glorious five-star boutique hotel. Here, in a country where space and money often seemed endless – at least for the few – the entrance was a little-used afterthought.

  ‘We’re moving in,’ Ryker said.

  ‘Okay. We’re at the top of the central gallery,’ Diaz said. ‘Alpha is by the... I don’t know. Some bloody big gold statue.’

  ‘It’s a Heckler,’ Salman said.

  Ryker smiled. He glanced over to Elliott who was looking a little less enthused.

  ‘Suck it up,’ Ryker said. ‘And remember the role you’re here to play.’

  Ryker could tell by the look on his colleague’s face what the problem was. The overt wealth, the hypocrisy and dodgy dealings that accompanied it. But tonight they had to pretend to be a part of it. Elliott nodded and his face softened as he got into character.

  Just in time, as they turned a corner and were suddenly among a throng of people. They both grabbed a glass of champagne from a white-gloved waiter and Ryker looked around to take in the people, and the grand space they were there to fill.

  A sprawling gallery. Three storeys, though with the extra-high ceilings it was tall enough for ten. Over a hundred guests, Ryker estimated, though they were swallowed up here. High above them the roof was a gold-encrusted dome. There were crystals and splashes of gold everywhere. The building was undoubtedly modern, breathtaking and expensive, with Arabic flourishes throughout.

  The guests, on the other hand, were something of a clash. At least eighty per cent of the people Ryker could see were male – not surprising in a country where females were generally discouraged from socialising at all, and particularly if they were not chaperoned. Westerners were, in general, given much more leeway, depending on the setting. Like here, behind closed doors, where money was as important, if not more important than religious culture. More than half of the men here were in black tie. The rest were in traditional Arab dress. The groups were mingling, and there were smiles all around, despite the divide in culture that was as obvious in the choices of dress as it was in the choices of drink: champagne versus orange juice.

  ‘Come on, this way,’ Ryker said.

  He and Elliott set off again, all the while scanning around them, taking in the guests, looking for anyone who stood out – covert security belonging to either Alpha, the other guests or the Qatari government. They had to expect all of those to be present tonight, and those harder to spot individuals would be the biggest stumbling block to them achieving their aim; to kill Alpha.

  Yet getting to their target during this high profile and busy gathering was still a far more straightforward proposition than doing so any other time. Of course, for a simple assassination they could have just had a sniper on a rooftop. But this wasn’t just a simple assassination. They needed information from Alpha too, and for that they had to get face to face with him. That was far easier to achieve here. The sheer number of people, and the relaxed nature of the proceedings, was the perfect cover.

  Ryker and Elliott moved for the grand spiral staircase. They were halfway to the next floor when Ryker spotted Diaz and Salman, now chatting to a group of four others. Needless distraction, but they all needed to blend in, and be capable of holding their own in this crowd.

  ‘That’s Pavel Grichenko there, isn’t it?’ Salman said, jovial and chatty, to the man to his right. ‘By the Heckler statue?’

  Ryker heard this through his ear from fifty yards away. As he spoke, Salman caught Ryker’s eye and ever so slightly indicated to his left.

  ‘Yes, you haven’t met him before?’ came a more distant reply from one of the men Salman and Diaz were talking to. The conversation carried on, but Ryker wasn’t paying much attention. He was now too busy watching Alpha – aka Pavel Grichenko.

  Then, ‘Shit.’

  A pause. ‘What?’ Ryker said.

  He tapped his earbud and glanced to Elliott who gave a slight shrug. They stopped on a landing midway to the next floor, Alpha and Diaz and Salman remained in view. No outward signs of alarm from any of them.

  ‘Aldern?’ Ryker said.

  No reply now from Aldern – Salman and Diaz’s chauffeur, who was keeping watch by the front entrance.

  ‘Wait a second...’ Aldern said. ‘This... this isn’t right.’ His voice was patchy, the line breaking, though the rustling sound also suggested he was walking. To where?

  ‘Aldern?’

  ‘Out here. There’s a...’

  Then nothing.

  Ryker stood and waited. ‘Aldern?’ No reply. ‘Lange, Weller, help me here?’

  ‘His feed’s down,’ Weller said. ‘Give me a minute.’

  ‘Do you see him?’ Ryker said.

  ‘He was by the car five seconds ago. I saw him walking away, toward the trees, but... he’s out of view now.’

  ‘His tracker.’

  ‘Offline too.’

  Not good. Ryker stared at Elliott for a couple of seconds, trying not to show any concern. Despite the passive face, he knew his colleague was doing the same. They had a problem, and that didn’t just mean the chances of their mission being a success were diminishing by the second.

  So, too, were the chances of them walking away from this alive.

  2

  ‘Okay. Everyone keep on track,’ Ryker said. ‘I’ll go and find him.’

  An uneasy silence in response. Ryker turned and headed back down the stairs. He eased his way through the guests, nodding and smiling, then
stepped outside the main entrance, out of the air-conditioning and back into the sultry heat.

  He’d clocked eight security guards dotted about the place, including four who were on the outside. None were Alpha’s core crew. These were just guys hired in for the night to provide a visual deterrent, to stop people coming in who weren’t invited. Well, they’d failed on that one then. Still, Ryker was cautious as he headed past them.

  He continued down the steps and to the sweeping gravel drive that was filled to bursting with the most extravagant collection of cars Ryker had seen in his life.

  ‘You’re moving in the right direction,’ Diaz said in his ear. ‘Our car’s seven along on your left, one row back.’

  Ryker found it. The gleaming Mercedes S-Class that Aldern had driven in with Diaz and Salman as his passengers was parked between two hypercars – a Bugatti and a Pagani – that together were probably worth twenty of the top-of-the-range Mercedes. Even extreme wealth had its extremes.

  He moved around the Mercedes. The driver’s door was ajar. Ryker whipped his eyes about. There was no one here. The nearest people he could see were the two security guards either side of the bottom of the steps. Twenty cars between them and him.