Lethal Profit by Alex Blackmore Read Free Book Online Page A

another night of dining alone. She changed direction and walked towards a supermarket several streets from her hotel. Her back was aching from carrying the bag. She tightened her stomach muscles and forced herself to stand up straight until she was in front of the supermarket, its bright strip-lighting spilling out onto the wet pavements. Inside she picked up a two-litre bottle of water, a bag of apples, a pack of madeleines and a pre-made cheese and ham baguette. On a whim she added a large bar of salted almond chocolate and a packet of menthol Vogue cigarettes to her basket. She hadn’t smoked for three years but she couldn’t think of a better time to take it up again.

    The cashier was surly and threw her purchases back at her, peering out from under a greasy fringe with tiny dark eyes like a sullen pig. Eva was too tired to be annoyed and meekly packed her things into a flimsy carrier bag, hoping it would hold the weight of the water until she got back to the hotel. Then she set off again, lugging the enormous holdall. What was inside it? It wasn’t until she was two blocks away that she heard footsteps on the street behind her. They were quiet – too quiet – as if someone was trying very hard not to be heard. She tried to turn her head to look but the enormous bag on her shoulder was blocking her view. She picked up her pace and behind her the footsteps quickened too. She was walking down dark, wet, deserted roads, at least five minutes jog from the nearest busy Parisian street. She had chosen this area because it was cheap. Safety had never been a major concern – this was only supposed to be a fact-finding trip. Eva pushed energy through her muscles as she forced her body to move faster. She kept moving, driving herself forward, not daring to look behind in case she lost the advantage and found herself staring straight into the face of her pursuer. Suddenly she was one street from the hotel, one empty road to cross. The footsteps behind her quickened to a run. Eva’s senses suddenly went into overdrive and, despite everything she was carrying, she began running too. She could see the hotel right in front of her. She jumped off the pavement and, too late, noticed the car coming at speed to her left. She felt the car clip her painfully on the leg, sending her sprawling to the floor. She saw her bag of shopping and Jackson’s holdall fly through the air as she fell, landing heavily against the curb. There was a burning pain across the back of her skull and then nothing.

    â€˜I cannot kill the English girl.’
    Wiraj Hasan turned slowly from his position at the window of the grubby hotel room in the 18 th arrondissement of Paris where he was leisurely smoking a cigarette. ‘You are joking of course, Nijam,’ he said slowly to his brother.
    A tense silence filled the room as the two men stared at each other while their room-mates ignored them and continued to play a slow and unabsorbing game of cards. The brothers always fought, both here and at home, it was just how it was with siblings.
    â€˜No, I am not joking.’ Nijam’s stocky frame moved swiftly over to where his brother remained by the window. He had the large, open face of a child, the body of a heavyweight boxer and the hands of a professional strangler. ‘I told you, I have found God now and I do not think this killing to order we are doing fits with His plan.’
    Wiraj laughed scornfully. ‘Your God is a white man’s God. He has no time for you.’
    â€˜He has time for everyone, Wiraj. All those who follow the path.’
    â€˜Like sheep.’
    â€˜We are his flock and he will guide us.’
    Wiraj stared at his brother then suddenly threw his cigarette to the stained wooden floor and ground it down with his heel. ‘You have become weak, my brother,’ he growled, with such an intensity that the three men at the table glanced over.
    Nijam was immediately placatory. ‘I