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  “She was in love!” Patel screamed out. “With a fucking woman! Not me!”

  “So you killed her,” Morgan said gently. “You got angry because she loved someone else, and you killed her.”

  “I did.” Patel sobbed. “I didn’t mean too, believe me! I think her neck broke.”

  “Is that why you tried to stage the hanging?”

  “Yes,” the man admitted, wiping tears from his face. “I knew that she always loved that place. I didn’t want to kill her, please believe me. I just wanted her to be mine. I wanted her to love me like she loved her.”

  Morgan had heard enough. He looked back over his shoulder to the officer in the corner of the room. The man nodded.

  “Where’s he going?” Patel asked as the officer left the room. “Where’s he going?”

  “This conversation is just for us.” Morgan sat unmoved in his chair. “You’re going to tell me who you hired to kill me and my team.”

  Morgan watched as confusion replaced the fear and guilt that had been etched into Patel’s face. “What are you talking about?” he managed.

  “You hired shooters to take out my team and stop us finding Sophie. Who are they?”

  “I have no idea!” Patel cried.

  With disappointment Morgan realized that he believed him. “You didn’t hire anyone to come after us?”

  “No!” Patel begged. “I’m a hedge fund manager, not a gangster! I wouldn’t even know where to find those people!”

  Morgan swore under his breath. Then who would?

  And why?

  Chapter 47

  POLICE CONSTABLE SHARON Lewis looked at the sticky pool of blood on the kitchen floor.

  “It’s Knight’s,” Cook told her, pointing out the broken pieces of porcelain that lay close by. “Can you imagine getting hit with that?”

  “I took a frying pan to the head once.”

  Cook looked at her with surprise.

  “My dad,” Lewis explained.

  “Is that why you became an officer?” Cook guessed.

  “You should have been a shrink,” Lewis smirked sarcastically. “If you play the punchbag enough times, it’s a nice feeling to be the fist. I don’t tell people that, though. Most of the blokes already assume that any woman in uniform has daddy issues.”

  Having been an army officer, Jane Cook knew something about that. “I was lucky—I didn’t have any issues with my dad.”

  “Then what made you join?”

  “I grew up on a farm and my dad taught me to love the outdoors. As I got older I wanted to see more of the world. My family didn’t have the money to fund that kind of thing ourselves, so I joined the army.”

  “And you liked it?”

  “Loved it. You?”

  “It’s my life,” Lewis admitted. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I leave.”

  “I thought the same,” Cook confided. “But now I have new teammates and new challenges. It’s all I want.”

  “And the boss, too,” Lewis needled.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I know. I’m only teasing you. To be honest, when I first met you, I didn’t like you. I thought you were another pretty girl shagging her way up the ranks.”

  “I’m not,” Cook said stiffly.

  “I know that now.” Lewis smirked. “I was wrong. I didn’t realize it was love.”

  “I didn’t say it was that either.” Cook smiled, thinking of Jack Morgan, and how they would soon be free to find out exactly what it was.

  “You didn’t have to.” Lewis smiled back. “I’m sorry we didn’t get off to a good start, Cook. You and me have both come up in organizations dominated by men. At first I thought you were the kind that held women back, but now I see why you’ve got to where you are, and I hope we can stay in touch after this.”

  “We will,” Cook promised. “There aren’t many people I can say have saved my life. The least I owe you is a spot on the Christmas card list.”

  “Bloody hell, what an honor!” The police officer laughed. “You want a brew or what?”

  But before Cook could reply, she heard a sound in the doorway.

  She was about to greet the expected police officers. Instead, the words died in her throat.

  Jane Cook was staring down the barrel of a gun.

  Chapter 48

  “MOVE AND I blow her brains out,” the masked gunman barked at Lewis.

  “I’m a police officer,” she replied evenly.

  “I know who you are.”

  “Then you know you’re fucked if you hurt us.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, pig,” the man replied. “And put your phone down on the floor. One wrong move and your mate’s brains go on the wall.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Lewis urged, wishing she had her pistol, now handed in as part of the investigation into the forest shooting. “I’ll do as you say.”

  “Bollocks to that,” Cook hissed through gritted teeth. “Run, Lewis.”

  “You shut up,” the gunman growled.

  “Run,” Cook urged.

  But Lewis would not. Instead she placed her phone onto the floor.

  “Kick it away,” the gunman demanded.

  Lewis did as she was bid.

  “Now take out hers,” the man ordered, a slight twitch of his gun gesturing to Cook.

  “Just run, Lewis,” Cook tried again, but the officer would not abandon her, and Cook’s phone joined Lewis’s on the floor.

  “Now both on your knees.” The man spoke through the fabric of his mask. “Hands on your head. Interlocked fingers.”

  The women complied, the pistol’s muzzle tracking Cook’s forehead through every inch.

  “Who are you?” Cook asked.

  “I think you can guess.” The unexpected reply came from behind the gunman as a second man entered the room. Though the newcomer’s face was also hidden behind the black mesh of a balaclava, Cook instantly recognized the voice and her skin crawled at the terrifying revelation.

  Because she knew she was a dead woman.

  Chapter 49

  PETER KNIGHT WAS helping himself to coffee in the station’s cafeteria when Jack Morgan approached.

  “You got the confession?” Knight asked.

  “I did,” Morgan confirmed.

  “Then what’s up?” Knight could read his friend’s expression.

  “Something isn’t right.” Before Morgan could elaborate further, his phone began to buzz urgently in his pocket.

  “FaceTime from Cook,” he told Knight, his pulse quickening at the prospect of seeing her, even just on a screen. “I’ll tell her and Lewis to stand down as soon as the police arrive.”

  “OK. I’ll pour you a coffee.”

  “Thanks,” Morgan replied, moving outside in the corridor and hitting answer. “Hi, Jane…” he began.

  But the smile died on his lips as the picture’s quality cleared, and he found himself looking not at the face of the woman he loved, but at the figure of a masked gunman who held a pistol to her head.

  Chapter 50

  MICHAEL “FLEX” GIBBON had waited years for this moment, and the picture of Morgan’s anguish made every second worthwhile.

  “Hello, Morgan. Shame we couldn’t do this in person, but good to see you again.”

  Morgan recognized the voice of the muscle-bound maniac with his gun held to Cook’s head.

  “Whatever it is you want,” Morgan tried, “you can have it. I will sell Private, and you can have every dime.”

  “This isn’t about money, Jack!” Flex shouted at the phone, his rage boiling over. “This is about honor! This is about righting a wrong! You don’t walk into my town and insult me! You don’t come onto my turf and sucker-punch me in my own gym!”

  “Sucker-punch?” Cook laughed at Flex’s feet. “He beat the shit out of you!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Flex snarled, pistol-whipping his captive with such force that her head snapped back and blood gushed from her nose.

  “Ja
ne! Please, Flex,” Morgan pleaded, “I’ll do anything.” He meant every word.

  “Anything?”

  “Yes. Anything. Anything!”

  “Good.” Flex lowered the pistol and ran his hand through Cook’s hair. “So shall I tell you what I want, Jack?”

  “Yes! Just tell me! Tell me and you’ll have it!”

  “I’ve already got it, you prick,” Flex laughed. “All I want, Jack, is for you to watch.”

  Then he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 51

  JACK MORGAN SANK to his knees. The phone fell from his hand and bounced across the floor. As he brought his hands to his face, he could hear Lewis’s anguished screams coming from the phone’s tiny speaker.

  “Jack!” Knight shouted, running to his friend’s side. “What is it?”

  What was it?

  It was witnessing the cold-blooded murder of a colleague. More than a colleague. It was being helpless to prevent it. It was a sense of the deepest revulsion, and the fast-growing tide of anger.

  It was the loss of someone Morgan loved, and would never hold again.

  “He killed Jane.”

  “What?” Knight mumbled, unable to comprehend the words. “What…?”

  “He killed Jane!” Morgan said again, the anger beginning to take over every other emotion. “I’ll kill him,” he growled in the back of his throat as he pushed himself up and picked up his phone.

  The call had ended.

  “Jack? Tell me what’s happened. Talk to me, mate.”

  “Flex executed Jane. He’s still got Lewis. I’m going to find him, Peter,” Morgan promised, his eyes like burning embers. “I’m going to find Flex Gibbon, and then I’m going to kill him.”

  Chapter 52

  MICHAEL GIBBON LOOKED down at the body that lay in front of him. What had been a beautiful woman was reduced now to a body of useless meat. It was a waste, really. Still, the bitch who had attacked him at his gym was dead, and Morgan had seen her die. That gave Flex some solace, but it did not fill him with satisfaction. That wouldn’t come until Jack Morgan had suffered still more, and then finally died in agony himself.

  “You fucking coward,” Flex then heard, breaking him from his thoughts.

  He turned his masked head to look at the police officer, Lewis. She was on her knees and trembling, but her face was hard and defiant.

  “You’re a copper,” Flex stated.

  “I am,” Lewis answered, with a proud jut of her chin.

  “Look at her. Go on. Look at her,” Flex urged with a wave of his pistol.

  Willing herself to be stoic, Lewis obeyed and turned her eyes to Cook’s body on the floor.

  “This woman was a traitor,” Flex declared, lifting up Cook’s head by her hair so that her dead eyes looked at Lewis. “She was a traitor, and so she got treated like one.”

  “She wasn’t a traitor, you fucking murderer!” Lewis shouted, hoping that she could face death with the same tenacity that Cook had.

  “She was,” Flex stated coldly, dropping Cook’s head so that it hit hard on the floor. “She’s been working with that American bastard to undermine British security. She’s been working to undermine the army, and the police. Your team, Lewis. She’s been out to fuck your team.”

  “Bollocks!” Lewis spat. “Just shoot me and get it over with, you fat bastard! I don’t want to hear your crap!”

  Flex’s accomplice hit her hard in the face. The police officer tasted blood, and braced herself as she saw a boot coming in at her stomach.

  Being ready wasn’t enough. Lewis doubled over in pain as she felt one of her lower ribs crack.

  “I’ve got nothing against you, Lewis,” Flex explained. “But I’ve had nothing against a lot of people I’ve killed, so don’t let yourself think that will stop me. Now,” he asked, bringing up the silencer of his pistol to brush against his captive’s forehead, “are you gonna help me, or are you gonna die?”

  Chapter 53

  JACK MORGAN SPRINTED out of the police station, Peter Knight on his heels, and a series of clattering doors and bewildered faces left in their wake.

  “Jack!” Knight shouted at his friend’s back. “We can’t rush into this alone! We don’t have weapons! We need the police!”

  Morgan ignored Knight’s calls until the men stood in a wide stretch of empty car park. The American came to a stop and turned to face Knight.

  “No police,” Morgan declared, his voice guarded and lethal like a holstered pistol. “If Flex sees police, Lewis will die too. I’ve already had HQ call off the uniforms who were supposed to take over Patel’s crime scene.”

  “But—”

  “No police, Peter! These are our people, and it’s up to us to save them!”

  Knight didn’t point out that Private’s own agent was beyond help. “Lewis is police. Her own people deserve to know what’s happening.”

  Morgan shook his head. “I’m getting her out of this.”

  Knight could see that the shock of Cook’s death was clouding Morgan’s judgment. The American had pulled off so many daring feats that Knight had lost count, but now that record was pushing Morgan into making rash decisions that would not only cost Lewis her life, but likely Jack Morgan his own.

  “This is what he wants, Jack,” Knight argued. “He wants you to run in there with no plan.”

  “I have a plan,” Morgan protested. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Knight reached out and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. “Jack. Mate. Please. Reconsider this. Getting yourself killed will not bring her back.”

  But there was no reply for Knight, nor recognition that his words had even been heard. Instead Morgan looked to the sky. “Chopper’s here.”

  Chapter 54

  FLEX STOOD BACK as his accomplice delivered a kick into Lewis’s side. The air was driven from her, red-hot pain shooting through the woman’s body as the ends of her broken rib grated against one another.

  “Here’s something for you to think about,” Flex growled through his mask. “Don’t you think it’s funny that Jack Morgan and Private keep turning up around the world just as shit is about to hit the fan? Look at London. Who was here to save the day at the Olympics? Who was here for Trooping the Color? It’s always that bastard Morgan. He sets these things up so that his company profits from them! Can you not see that?”

  “All I see,” Lewis groaned, “is a fat boy with a man-crush. You should just get it over with and admit you want to fu—”

  Flex’s boot drove the last words from her lungs as a wheeze.

  “You stupid bitch! What money are you on as a copper? Thirty grand a year? Morgan is making millions a year! Millions! And he’s making it by having others die for him. You think this sack of shit on the floor is the first one who’s died to make Jack Morgan richer?”

  “She died,” Lewis spat, “because you killed her!”

  “She died because she was a disposable asset!” Flex shot back. “Disposable to Jack Morgan, so that he can continue to live his life of beach houses and private jets!”

  “You jealous bastard,” Lewis laughed. “Is that all this is? You’re going to kill me because you want Morgan’s life?”

  Flex told his accomplice to deliver another kick to Lewis’s broken ribs, but it did not stop Lewis from finishing. “No wonder you’re wearing that mask. Morgan is a good-looking bloke. I bet you’ve got a face like a cheese toastie.”

  She laughed at her own insult. Then, to her surprise, she heard Flex join in.

  “You really don’t think I’ll kill you, do you, copper?”

  “I don’t think you’ve got the balls. Probably vanished from all that juice you’ve been doing.” She snorted, taking in the man’s steroid-inflated size. “You’re a coward. And a small man in all the ways that count.”

  “A coward?” Flex laughed. “Well, maybe I am. But you don’t have to be a brave man to do this.”

  Flex shoved the barrel of his gun inside Lewis’s mouth.
<
br />   She tried to speak, but the words were muffled by the barrel and came out as an angry gurgle.

  “I want you to know,” Flex said from above, “that you’re gonna die to make Jack Morgan richer. Think about that as your last thought.”

  Flex laughed, and then he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 55

  THE BUILDINGS OF London were a blur beneath the helicopter as it belted across the city, green parks just a flash as Morgan and Knight raced to Kensington, and to Sharon Lewis.

  Morgan had been silent for the first two minutes of the flight, but now he pulled his phone and dialed into Private London’s HQ.

  “Put me through to Hooligan,” he commanded the watch manager.

  “Hooligan left once Patel was taken into custody,” the watch manager explained. “I’ll put you through to Denise.”

  “Who’s Denise?” Morgan asked Knight as the call went through.

  “We recruited her last year straight from Cambridge. Hooligan hand-picked her. She’s quite brilliant, really.”

  “Denise, this is Jack Morgan. Are you OK with breaking the law?”

  “I am if it’s for a good cause,” the young woman answered without hesitation.

  “I need you to hack into any and all CCTV systems within five hundred yards of Mayoor Patel’s home, and then feed them to me. Can you do that?”

  “I can.”

  Morgan hung up the call.

  “Why the hell isn’t Hooligan there?” he asked Knight.

  “Jack, he’s been working non-stop. As far as he was concerned, our cases both wrapped up once we took Patel into custody. He couldn’t have foreseen…this.”

  “Private isn’t a part-time gig.” Morgan spoke through clenched teeth. “If this new girl is as good as you say she is, then Hooligan’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Knight stammered, flabbergasted. “He’s a lynchpin in Private London, Jack. I know things are not great right now but—”

  “Not great?” Morgan cut him off, seething. “Jane is dead, and my people are not where they should be.”