Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) by Martyn V. Halm Read Free Book Online

was cut to hide the gun, but his shirt showed signs of a shoulder holster, the tips of his collar askew.
    The older man appeared unarmed under his expensive silk suit. If his age and the quality of his clothes hadn’t revealed his seniority, his leadership would have been apparent in his demeanour; even in relaxation his straight shoulders and upright bearing betrayed a military background. His hair was shot with grey and shorter than that of his companions, and his dark eyes remained opaque as he gave her a boyish grin and extended his hand.
    “Ms. Sieltjes, my name is Lau.” His callused palm felt like he had flat coins implanted under the skin. “I apologise for our ruse to get you to meet with us.”
    “I’m sure you have an excellent reason for your subterfuge.”
    Katla released his hand and moved to Emil’s desk.  
    “I do.” Lau opened a briefcase and took out a sheaf of papers. “We want you to sign these documents, signing your Sphinx stock over to us.”
    Katla rested her butt against the front of the desk, the cane ready to strike. “You mean you want me to sell my stock to you?”
    “No, Ms. Sieltjes. We want you to give us your stock.”
    Lau held out a ballpoint pen, but Katla made no move to take it.
    “You think I will sign my stock over to you? Just like that?”
    “I expected you’d need encouragement.” Lau took a Ruger pistol from the briefcase. “So I brought this.”
    “Shooting me won’t get your documents signed.”
    Lau screwed a silencer onto the barrel of the Ruger. “If you sign the documents, both of you will leave this office alive and unharmed.”
    “And if I don’t sign?”
    His companion seized Pascal Vermeer and pushed him down on a swivel chair. Lau walked over and put the muzzle of the silencer against the accountant’s head. Vermeer’s eyes bulged in panic and Katla noticed his crotch darkened.
    “I have no love for Pascal, Mr. Lau, especially after this betrayal.” Katla raised her cane and rested it against her shoulder. “If you shoot him, however, I’ll assume my fate will be the same, whether I sign your documents or not.”
    “This pistol is loaded with custom hollow-point bullets,” Lau spoke while he looked at her. “They expand and turn the brain to mush, but have not enough force to leave the skull. Keeps this from getting messy.”
    He pulled the trigger.
    The Ruger barked like a miffed Chihuahua. A spent casing flew from the ejection port, bounced against a framed picture of the Gizeh and dropped to the carpet, while Vermeer shook his head, his mouth falling open, and slipped sideways from the chair. His arms and legs worked spasmodically and Lau stepped over the dying accountant, pressed the Ruger against his forehead and fired again. His limbs stopped trashing and with a final shudder Vermeer became motionless.
    While his companions picked up the spent casings, Lau turned to Katla. “Sign the documents, Ms. Sieltjes. Or you’ll share his fate.”
    She picked up the documents. “I have to sign all of them?”
    “All of them,” Lau replied. “The originals and the copies.”
    Katla tore the documents in two and scattered them over her shoulders. “I hope you brought a second set.”
    Lau’s opaque eyes hardened. The Ruger swung up and the muzzle centered between her eyes. “That was stupid, Ms. Sieltjes.”
    Even in his anger the pistol didn’t waver in his hand.
    Katla stared at him and came slowly to her feet. Lau kept the Ruger aimed at her face. Moving with exaggerated slowness, she planted her cane between her feet, and said, “My stock in Sphinx is worth one-point-four million euro, Lau. It’s for sale for one-point-nine.”
    The Ruger wavered and Lau retracted his arm. “You think I’m going to pay half a million more than your stock is worth?”
    “I don’t think you’re going to pay at all. You’re a lackey. Tell your boss, my price is non-negotiable. He should’ve come in person.”
    Katla turned her back to him and