Cold Blood by Alex Shaw Read Free Book Online

for the family stall. Casting Ruslan a stern look he urged him to ‘bloody hurry up and get him to the factory’.
    “Yes sir,” replied the bemused Ukrainian.
    ‘I have to open the factory at seven forty-five. No later,’ he ordered, shooting Ruslan a glare before transferring his attention to the heavy lifting cranes of the Odessa docks.
    Ruslan slumped over the wheel and made faces in the mirror that only he could see. A veteran of Afghanistan he did not suffer fools, such as Jas, gladly, but the fool paid his boss well, besides, he got to drive this big Lexus and the women loved it.
    Seven twenty. Sergey took up his trigger position on the factory car park. He was invisible to those below unless they made the fatal mistake of staring directly up. Experience and training had taught him patience. What was that English saying his training instructor had told him? Ah yes, ‘slowly, slowly catchy monkey’. Never before had the saying made so much sense. His eyes started to water and blur his vision. He squeezed them shut and open again blinking, fighting the urge to rub. He would not take his eyes off of the trigger position, not now, not after what felt like years of waiting. He would do this now, and he would do it perfectly.
    Jas liked the journey to the factory. Speeding past the mainly Soviet-era traffic made up of Ladas, Volgas, Kamaz trucks and the odd Jigoli, he felt that he had really arrived. He allowed himself to smile as he recalled the look he had seen on the faces of the so-called ‘old men’ of the business when he announced his successful bids for hitherto secretive state tenders in Ukraine, Belarus and Russia. Let the corporate Germans in Erlangen call him a tin-pot Packi now!
    A car engine approached and Sergey made his final adjustments. The dark blue Lexus rounded the corner of the warehouse and drew to a halt in front of the main entrance. Sweat formed on his brow despite the unseasonably chilly morning air as he concentrated on the cross hairs of the Dragunov’s sight. The door opened and the target started to rise. Let him get out, don’t rush… apply second pressure to the trigger. The single shot flew along the barrel and covered the short distance to the target. There was a crack and suddenly a cloud of blood. The target was propelled backwards, striking the rear panel of the limousine before hitting the ground. The driver momentarily froze before throwing himself to the floor and scrabbling behind the car for cover.
    *
    British Embassy , Kyiv , Ukraine
     
    Vickers frowned as Macintosh passed him the report, ashen faced. “It happened this morning Alistair. The driver was unharmed. Mr Malik died instantly. The militia think it was a professional hit.”
    Scanning the two sides of A4 type Cyrillic print, Vickers’s brow furrowed even deeper than normal. “Anyone would think this was sodding Moscow. I don’t suppose the local militia have anything to go on?”
    The ambassador shook his head. In his time at the British Embassy he had heard of two other assassinations, both had been foreign investors and both had been unsolved. “The first Brit to open a manufacturing plant in Ukraine becomes the first Brit to be murdered in Ukraine. The EU is not going to like it one little bit.” Vickers massaged his temples. “I’ll liaise with the SBU. We’ll have to eventually put out a press statement. We don’t want to undo what little commercial progress we’ve made thus far.”
    “And his family?” the ambassador asked with a concerned voice.
    Vickers, still scanning the report, looked up, “Oh yes, we should inform them.” He read on, suddenly arching his eyebrows. “Surprisingly the body will be on its way back to Kyiv tomorrow. Apparently the SBU don’t trust the local coroner to carry out the post mortem. Once that has been completed I’ll have Consulate arrange passage to the UK.”
    Macintosh nodded, looking decidedly pale. Vickers left the ambassador’s office and asked his