Keeping with Killers (The Salingers Book 1) by Adam Nicholls Page B
Authors: Adam Nicholls
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torture me all you want, but I don't know where he is. What I do know is that Canavan is inside the house, and I don't doubt that the kid can't take care of himself.'
A loud explosion echoed on the wind from behind Greg, and he smiled. The trap. Perfect timing. 'It's taken care of.' He reached out at his old colleague and gripped his throat, grinding his teeth but barely noticing it. 'Where is he?'
'I don't–'
Greg pinched the man's nose, tightened the grasp on the neck, forcing him to the ground. 'Where?' His nasty side was coming out. He had tried so hard to restrain it until now but, sooner or later, the monster always came unleashed.
'At Heathrow Airport! He's getting on a plane just now. Probably gone already!'
Greg let go, shoved him into the dirt. 'The Boss won't let him go. Not while there's trouble and leverage behind him. You know that.'
Matthews was gasping for air.
The sun was dropping fast, darkness soon approaching.
Greg shivered, zipped up his jacket. 'We're going inside.'
'I'm going nowhere with you,' Matthews spat, clambering up to his feet. 'I came here to negotiate and all you've given me is one option.'
'That's how I negotiate.' He sneered.
Matthews's eyes shot behind his interrogator, and a fresh confidence crept into his voice.
'But that's not how we do it. Ain't that right, Canavan?'
Greg wasn't given the time to turn around. He felt the bump on his neck, knocking him out of the moment. His feet collapsed beneath him and he hit the ground like a sack of rocks. Lying on his back, he looked up. Shocked and humiliated, he saw his two ex-colleagues towering over him through blurry eyes.
'Nicely done,' said Matthews.
Their voices seemed to be getting deeper as consciousness left him.
'It was nothing really,' the new voice said. 'Thanks for distracting him.'
'Ha. You got the boy?'
'It's been sorted.'
That was the last thing Greg heard before his world faded to a black void.
Chapter 16
When Val Salinger had gone in to hiding, he was simply that–Val Salinger, father, assassin, power to the people who couldn't help themselves. He was a mixed bag of morals with a hell of a paycheque. Days later, when he emerged, he was Oscar Wales, retired Geography teacher with a passport in the same name. His knowledge of the world stood true enough–he could pass off as a teacher just as easily as he had performed other roles in his line of work; postman, poet, preacher. But this time, just like every other time, he couldn't help but let his nerves twinge as he stood at the customs desk at the airport.
'Passport, please,' the pretty young lady was saying to the people at the front of the line.
'Thank you.' And then the next man, woman, or couple would pass through with an uncomfortable embarrassment on their faces, and a fear of the upcoming metal detectors.
Guilt did that to a person. He thought it was funny, trying not to seem like you were up to something was exactly what made it look like you really were up to something, and that was why Val always did the opposite.
There were other benefits too, his background in psychology helped him to see the world the way that others do. It was something he could turn on and off. He was manipulative, crafty, and when needed, very malicious. But one thing that could never be said for Val Salinger was that he lacked empathy. He had felt horrible for leaving his life behind.
'Passport, please,' the lady said to him with a painted-on smile.
Val stepped forward and handed it over to her, but he did it as Oscar Wales.
'Thank you.' She handed it back. 'Enjoy your flight.'
Yeah, right , he thought, but smiled and boarded the plane nonetheless.
Every time he had been on a business trip, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder. He knew the shadows that The Agency worked in. They had their ways, like any other business, but if he ever proved to be anything of a problem they would not hesitate to sever the cord. Even now, en route to his own retirement
A loud explosion echoed on the wind from behind Greg, and he smiled. The trap. Perfect timing. 'It's taken care of.' He reached out at his old colleague and gripped his throat, grinding his teeth but barely noticing it. 'Where is he?'
'I don't–'
Greg pinched the man's nose, tightened the grasp on the neck, forcing him to the ground. 'Where?' His nasty side was coming out. He had tried so hard to restrain it until now but, sooner or later, the monster always came unleashed.
'At Heathrow Airport! He's getting on a plane just now. Probably gone already!'
Greg let go, shoved him into the dirt. 'The Boss won't let him go. Not while there's trouble and leverage behind him. You know that.'
Matthews was gasping for air.
The sun was dropping fast, darkness soon approaching.
Greg shivered, zipped up his jacket. 'We're going inside.'
'I'm going nowhere with you,' Matthews spat, clambering up to his feet. 'I came here to negotiate and all you've given me is one option.'
'That's how I negotiate.' He sneered.
Matthews's eyes shot behind his interrogator, and a fresh confidence crept into his voice.
'But that's not how we do it. Ain't that right, Canavan?'
Greg wasn't given the time to turn around. He felt the bump on his neck, knocking him out of the moment. His feet collapsed beneath him and he hit the ground like a sack of rocks. Lying on his back, he looked up. Shocked and humiliated, he saw his two ex-colleagues towering over him through blurry eyes.
'Nicely done,' said Matthews.
Their voices seemed to be getting deeper as consciousness left him.
'It was nothing really,' the new voice said. 'Thanks for distracting him.'
'Ha. You got the boy?'
'It's been sorted.'
That was the last thing Greg heard before his world faded to a black void.
Chapter 16
When Val Salinger had gone in to hiding, he was simply that–Val Salinger, father, assassin, power to the people who couldn't help themselves. He was a mixed bag of morals with a hell of a paycheque. Days later, when he emerged, he was Oscar Wales, retired Geography teacher with a passport in the same name. His knowledge of the world stood true enough–he could pass off as a teacher just as easily as he had performed other roles in his line of work; postman, poet, preacher. But this time, just like every other time, he couldn't help but let his nerves twinge as he stood at the customs desk at the airport.
'Passport, please,' the pretty young lady was saying to the people at the front of the line.
'Thank you.' And then the next man, woman, or couple would pass through with an uncomfortable embarrassment on their faces, and a fear of the upcoming metal detectors.
Guilt did that to a person. He thought it was funny, trying not to seem like you were up to something was exactly what made it look like you really were up to something, and that was why Val always did the opposite.
There were other benefits too, his background in psychology helped him to see the world the way that others do. It was something he could turn on and off. He was manipulative, crafty, and when needed, very malicious. But one thing that could never be said for Val Salinger was that he lacked empathy. He had felt horrible for leaving his life behind.
'Passport, please,' the lady said to him with a painted-on smile.
Val stepped forward and handed it over to her, but he did it as Oscar Wales.
'Thank you.' She handed it back. 'Enjoy your flight.'
Yeah, right , he thought, but smiled and boarded the plane nonetheless.
Every time he had been on a business trip, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder. He knew the shadows that The Agency worked in. They had their ways, like any other business, but if he ever proved to be anything of a problem they would not hesitate to sever the cord. Even now, en route to his own retirement
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