The Hunter

CHAPTER 12

Southeast of Charleroi, Belgium

Monday

19:48 CET

‘Les billets, si vous pla i t.’

Victor handed the conductor his ticket and thanked him when it was stamped and returned. The conductor made his way slowly along the aisle, periodically bracing himself against the train’s lateral movement. He looked eighty years old and unlikely to make eighty-one.

It was snowing outside. Flakes had collected on the window to Victor’s right, matted against the corners of the glass. Outside the scenery was invisible in the night, but when Victor leaned his cheek against the cold glass he could just make out fields and hills, the occasional twinkling light in the distance.

The train was two hours from the German border, and it would take into the early hours to reach Munich via Strasbourg, but Victor didn’t allow himself the luxury of sleep. He wasn’t sure that he could, even if he wanted to.

He was the only person in the carriage, sitting in the last row of seats, to the right of the aisle, the wall directly behind him. Sat straight in his seat he could see the far door and anyone who might come through it.

The door opened to Victor’s left and he automatically stiffened in his seat. Adrenaline surged, readying him for attack.

It was a child, a girl, four or five. She didn’t even look at him, just ran down the aisle bumping into seats on either side as she went. When she reached the end of the carriage she turned around and ran back, smiling as she bounced off one seat to the next. She stopped when she reached Victor, seeing him for the first time.

Eyes almost impossibly wide stared at his. He stared back but the intensity of her gaze made him uncomfortable, as though she could see through his eyes, past the veneer of his humanity to glimpse the real him that lay just beneath. But then she smiled, the gaps in her teeth showing, and any notion she possessed such power dissipated.

Feigning a look of puzzlement, Victor leaned forward and reached behind her ear. Her expression mimicked his. When he withdrew his hand he held a coin. A smile took over her face again. He rolled the coin back and forth across his fingers and the smile turned into a laugh.

He switched the coin into his left palm and passed the hand over his right. When he turned his left hand palm up it was empty. She laughed and pointed to his other hand. Maybe she’d seen the trick before, but Victor hoped she was merely perceptive beyond her years. He turned the closed right hand over and opened it. No coin there either. A look of confusion replaced the girl’s smile. He sat there with both hands turned palm up and shrugged.

The door opened and a woman appeared, instantly calling to the girl in German. The child responded by running off again. Her mother hurried after her, the volume of her voice rising with each shout. She looked flustered as if she had chased the girl down the whole train.

The mother caught the child’s collar before she’d reached the next door and marched her back the way they’d come with a sour expression on her face. She chastised her about running off, but the girl didn’t seem to care.

As she came closer Victor caught the child’s eye and gave her a look that said better luck next time. She grinned, and he slipped her the coin as they passed. Her eyes lit up for a second before she was gone and Victor had never felt more alone in his life.

The train rounded a long bend in the track and the overhead lights flickered momentarily. Victor drew a smartphone from his pocket and powered it on. He’d purchased it while in Charleroi, paying with cash to the shop owner’s delight. When it had loaded he took out the flash drive and plugged it into the USB port. The drive allowed him access, but the only file it contained asked for a password when he tried to open it.

He forced himself to think when all he wanted to do was shut down. Two hours after completing his assignment Eastern European assassins led by an American tried to kill him at his hotel. He thought about the dossier he’d found in the killers’ van. They may not have had many personal details, but to know his face and where he had been staying required extremely accurate intel.

Only someone who knew he would be in Paris to kill Ozols could have had assassins in place to kill him. He didn’t believe some third party was involved. The broker or client, or both together, had set him up, for safety, to save money, or some other reason he didn’t yet understand. At this moment the why wasn’t his priority. Staying alive was paramount, killing his enemies was secondary. Everything else was immaterial. If knowing why made it easier to protect himself only then did Victor care.

He opened up a file on the smartphone into which he had copied down all Svyatoslav’s details. It was too risky to try to take the actual documents across borders. He needed to find out who had hired Svyatoslav. Maybe it had been Victor’s own broker or maybe someone else entirely. Either way Victor had to know. Svyatoslav resided in Munich so Victor would start his hunt there.

He realized his eyes were closed and forced them open. His body needed the rest, but while his enemies were still out there he couldn’t afford to lessen his vigilance. He had spent his whole life being invisible, yet somehow, despite all the precautions, he’d been seen. Now more than ever he had to be on guard.

And in Victor’s opinion the best form of defence was to attack.