Hungry Ghost by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online

personality, it had been deep hypnosis and drugs, and in his pocket he had the colour code sequence that would bring the old Howells back to life. Howells the sociopath. Howells the killer.
    ‘Well,’ said Donaldson again. How to start, that was the problem. Grey had been quite specific; first he was to check how effective the programming had been, before showing him the cards. But what the hell was he supposed to say? There’s a man we want you to kill? To eliminate? To terminate with extreme prejudice?
    The girls had grown bolder now and they scurried over to sit either side of Howells on the floor, looking up at him like adoring poodles. They were lovely. God, what must the young boys be like, thought Donaldson.
    ‘Could I speak to you in private?’ he asked.
    ‘Sure,’ said Howells, and he spoke quickly to the girls in some sing-song language. They looked as if they’d been whipped but he smiled and said something else and they nodded excitedly and, holding hands again, went through the other door. Probably the bedroom, Donaldson decided.
    ‘Do I know you?’ Howells asked, gently stroking his beard and studying Donaldson with what appeared to be quiet amusement.
    Donaldson swallowed. ‘I think we met a couple of times in London. You probably don’t remember.’ The smell of incense seemed to be getting stronger, filling the air and threatening to choke him.
    ‘And you say Grey sent you?’
    ‘Yes,’ Donaldson replied, and then cleared his throat noisily. ‘Do you remember him?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘I have a message from him.’
    ‘Well?’
    Donaldson was confused. ‘Well what?’
    ‘What is the message?’ Howells asked patiently.
    ‘He wants you to work for him again.’
    ‘Like before?’
    Donaldson nodded. ‘Exactly.’
    Howells looked pained. He slid down the chair and rested his neck on the cushion, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t do that sort of thing any more.’
    ‘What sort of thing?’
    ‘You know what I mean. I’m different now. I’m a Buddhist.’ He fell silent for a few minutes, eyes closed. ‘I can’t do it. It’s a part of my life that I’d rather forget. I just can’t kill any more. I’m practically a vegetarian.’
    Donaldson reached for his bag, and unzipped it. ‘Grey asked me to give you something, he said it might make you change your mind.’
    ‘Nothing can do that. Go back and tell him, thanks, but no thanks.’
    Donaldson’s hand groped around the bag like an inquisitive ferret until he located the two sealed envelopes Grey had given him back in England. The thicker of the two he left on top of the bag and he tore the other open. Inside, as Grey had said, were three coloured cards the size of beer-mats: one was lime green, one blue with a yellowish hue, and the third was a sort of silvery beige, but it seemed to change colour the longer you looked at it. On the back of each card was a number: 1, 2 and 3 in blue ballpoint.
    ‘Grey said I was to show you these,’ said Donaldson, getting to his feet. He stood in front of Howells, the cards in his hand, like a conjuror preparing to perform. With a weary sigh Howells raised an arm and took the card with number one written on the back.
    ‘What is this supposed to be?’ he asked, squinting at the green card. He turned it over and examined the number. Donaldson licked his upper lip and handed down card number two, the blue one. Howells frowned, and forced himself into a more upright sitting position, confused rather than worried. He shrugged and made to give them back to Donaldson.
    ‘There’s one more,’ he said, and handed it down.
    Donaldson wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, though he’d played the scene through his mind time and time again on the journey from Heathrow. A minor epileptic fit, maybe, fluttering of the eyes, fainting, the look of a sleeper awakening, maybe a confused ‘Where am I? Who am I?’ Howells was a big disappointment; he did none of those things. His frown deepened,