Vendetta Read Online Free PDF Page A

that . . .’
    ‘No.’ Her ragged breathing shook in his ear. ‘Let’s meet later. The hotel next to the one we usually go to . . .’
    ‘No, Elena, I’m not dicking around with your life. Get here now.’
    ‘I’ll be there tonight. At nine. I’ll text you the room number.’
    ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ll protect you . . .’
    ‘You don’t understand . . .’ Her voice kicked higher. ‘I’m not scared just for me . . .’
    She bit her words back.
    ‘Who else are you scared for Elena? Who are you talking about?’
    ‘I’ll tell you tonight. But Mac, we’ve got to get out of here. Book a flight anywhere. Brazil. Cambodia . . .’
    ‘Stay calm. If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, I will . . .’
    ‘Don’t say it,’ she pleaded.
    ‘I’ll kill them.’

nine
    8 a.m.
     
    ‘All right mate – where we off to?’
    The sound of the cab driver’s voice snapped Mac back to the present and away from the last conversation he’d had with Elena. He sat in the back of a cab, the line of his spine soaked with sweat. He couldn’t get the sound of her voice out of his head; it was like she was whispering in his ear, right there now, next to him in the cab.
    The cabbie half twisted in the front seat and asked, an echo of annoyance in his tone, ‘Mate – are you all right?’ He gave Mac one of those stares he no doubt used on many of the stoned-out kids he picked up from clubs in the early hours of the morning.
    Mac set his features so his face gave nothing away. He told the other man what he needed to know, but as soon as the cab hit the streets, his mind stormed back into overdrive.
    He.
    Kill me.
    Eleven tonight.
    Elena had told him in their last frantic phone call about tomorrow night, which meant tonight. Eleven tonight. The words churned, their speed becoming hectic, frantic, as the cab zoomed by the gathering people on London’s streets, getting ready for another groundhog day at work.
    ‘Rough part of town you’re off to mate,’ the cabbie said conversationally.
    Mac didn’t answer. Instead he flicked his gaze up and noticed the older man stealing glances at him in the rear-view mirror. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should never have got the cab so close to the scene of the murder. Should’ve walked a good ten minutes and then hailed one. Public transport hadn’t been an option, that would take too long, and he didn’t have time to burn if something was going down at eleven tonight. He’d really messed up. It wouldn’t be long before the police were asking taxi drivers if they’d picked up any suspicious characters in the vicinity of a gruesome murder in a hotel. Maybe they’d talk to this cabbie? Maybe the cab driver would talk to them? Who’d ever heard of a cabbie that didn’t talk? No way could that happen. Mac reached into his jacket and felt for his gun.
    ‘Shed-load of coppers around today,’ the man in the front seat continued.
    Mac found his Luger. Touched the handle. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
    ‘They’ll probably want to chat to you, won’t they?’
    Mac leaned forward, quietly pulling the gun out at the same time. He kept the conversation going. ‘Why would they want to chat to me?’
    On the other side of the road, a police car went by at full speed, lights blazing.
    ‘You of all people must know what happened?’
    You of all people . . . What did the cab driver mean by that? Did he know something about Mac? Know where he’d been? Who he was?
    Mac started raising the gun.
    ‘What makes you think that I know anything about anything?’
    Mac curled a finger round the trigger.
    The cabbie took a sharp right, the lumps and bumps in the road shaking the car slightly from side to side.
    ‘I mean that you’re in the hotel down the road with a great view of what was going on. You must’ve seen the cops arrive and all that. There’s always some kind of argy-bargy going on around there. Probably a tart thing. That road’s full of