The Hunter

CHAPTER 61

21:01 CET

The bar was noisy with conversation, laughter, and traditional Greek music. Rebecca sat alone at a small table along one wall. She had a feta cheese salad in front of her, untouched except for the odd black olive. It was hard to eat when she was so tense. She looked at her watch every few minutes. He’d been gone for hours. He needed to get ‘equipment’. It would have been nice to have some idea of how long he was going to be.

She didn’t like being on her own, knowing she was vulnerable, knowing that without his help, if anyone made a play for her, she was dead. Initially she had been terrified to be in his, a hired killer’s, presence, but the rational part of her brain told her that she was safer with him than alone. He had survived two CIA-sponsored attempts on his life, and she had witnessed first-hand how he’d dealt with the French RAID team. At the moment he was the best and only friend she had. Rebecca was desperate to be near him again, to feel safe again.

She felt a little better being around lots of people. The bar was full of dining couples and partying tourists, only a few locals. There was an especially loud group of guys at a table close to Rebecca’s playing drinking games. The bar was across the street from her hotel, and from where she sat she could just about see the hotel entrance. He’d told her to wait in such a place.

Maybe he was testing her. Rebecca could tell he didn’t trust her fully. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he was watching her right now and had been minutes after he’d supposedly gone off to get whatever else he needed. Maybe he is waiting for me to set him up, she thought. If he didn’t trust her by now, then, not to put it too bluntly, he could go to hell.

A couple of times a guy from the group nearby would shout something to her. They looked like navy types. Brits by their accents. They seemed pretty harmless, just guys out getting drunk. She didn’t respond, just smiled the polite but uninterested, universally recognized, leave-me-alone smile and averted her gaze.

Rebecca stabbed her fork into a piece of feta and again into a slice of tomato. She forced a small amount of food into her mouth. Her clothes were starting to feel a little loose. It took a long time before she finally swallowed and then felt immediately full. She hailed a waiter for another glass of wine.

When a guy got up from his seat with the encouragement of his buddies, she kept her gaze directly at her food, silently hoping he would lose his nerve at the last second and walk away. He didn’t. Some men just couldn’t take a hint.

‘Hey, I’m Paul,’ he announced as he took the seat opposite her.

‘Hi,’ she said, giving him just a second of eye contact. He wasn’t bad looking but wouldn’t have been her type even if she had been in the mood.

‘You got a name, love?’

She hesitated, partly because she didn’t want anyone to know her real name, but mostly because she just didn’t want to talk to him.

‘Rachel,’ she answered eventually.

He smiled. ‘Cute name.’

He did the talking, asked the questions, made the jokes. Rebecca responded each time in as few words as possible. She tried her best to discourage him, but Paul had too much Dutch courage inside him to give up without a hell of a fight. Occasionally he would receive leery encouragement from his friends.

‘Listen,’ he said, eventually coming to the point. ‘My distinguished colleagues and I are moving on to another bar. I would be honoured if you’d join me.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

He hadn’t expected that. ‘Why not?’

‘I’m just not interested.’

‘Sure you are.’ He was persistent, if nothing else. ‘I’m a goodlooking guy, you’re a good-looking girl; think of all the interesting things we could do.’

When charm failed, the desperate ones always tried a deluded appeal. ‘Just leave me alone, Paul.’

He scowled for a moment. ‘All you Yank bitches are the same; you think you’re so superior.’

‘That’s probably because we are,’ Rebecca said, finally losing patience. ‘Now do us both a favour, and, if you can find it, go fuck yourself.’

He stood up fast, glaring, and for a second she thought she’d pushed him too far. A voice interrupted the stand-off.

‘I got us both a drink.’

Rebecca glanced up. It was him. Tesseract. The killer.

With complete nonchalance he placed a couple of glasses on the table. ‘Vodka tonics,’ he said. ‘No ice in yours.’

Paul looked him up and down. ‘What are you, her boyfriend?’

‘We’re business associates.’

‘Then you won’t mind me and Rachel here getting to know each other.’

‘You’re in my way.’

Paul sneered. ‘Just fuck off, mate. Let a fella work.’

‘I’ll say this as simply as possible so you don’t get confused.’ His voice was icy cool. ‘Leave.’

Paul stood, turned, reached a hand out as if to push him. Big mistake. In less than a second he was on his knees, his arm twisted and locked, ready to be snapped with an ounce more pressure. Paul yelled in pain.

His drinking buddies were out of their chairs. Tesseract applied a fraction more pressure to Paul’s arm and they froze at his scream.

‘ Whoa, whoa.’ Rebecca was on her feet, palms up. ‘Easy, we don’t have to do it that way.’ She looked at Paul. ‘Do we?’

‘ FUCK NO.’

She looked at her companion. ‘Let him go.’

His eyes were focused on the four other guys, but he spoke to Paul. ‘Do you promise to behave yourself?’

Paul frantically nodded.

He released him. ‘Find another place to drink.’

Paul pulled himself to his feet, cradling his sore arm. He went back to his friends, and, while they threw threats and insults, they backed off out of the bar. Everyone else was quiet. People were looking at them. Her heart was thumping. Equal parts relief and anger surged through her.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her against him and into an awkward hug. Rebecca resisted for a moment before wrapping her own arms around him, her chin resting on his shoulder, any anger vanishing as she felt their bodies together, the protection of his embrace. He stank of smoke, but she didn’t care. It felt good.

She noticed she was holding him tighter than he was her and realized it was for show, for the people watching, to maintain the couple act.

Rebecca pulled away. She could see the surprise and awkwardness on his face. She sat down, embarrassed. He sat down opposite her, picked up her fork, and started eating her salad. Slowly, the bar’s noise levels began to rise back to normal.

‘What the hell was that?’ she asked quietly.

His tone was frustratingly casual, ‘What was what?’

Rebecca frowned. ‘Are you making a joke?’

‘I told you I don’t make jokes.’

She shook her head. ‘Look, you didn’t need to do anything. I was taking care of it.’

He looked up and paused chewing. He said nothing.

‘I was taking care of it,’ she said again.

‘I would say that’s a flatteringly positive assessment.’

She glared at him. ‘When I want your help, I’ll ask for it.’

‘When I deem it necessary to help,’ he began, ‘I’ll do so whether you ask for it or not.’

She noticed something in the way he said it, an unexpected protectiveness. He saw that she’d noticed it too and looked away. He continued attacking her salad so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. She took a drink of the vodka tonic.

‘Thanks for getting it without ice.’

He nodded without looking at her.

Rebecca watched him for a minute. ‘Did you get everything you needed?’

He nodded, said nothing.

‘So, what next?’ she asked.

He continued eating for a few moments before speaking. ‘I’ll break into Olympus and get the files.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

She nodded. ‘Then we’re one step closer to the bad guy.’

He gave her an expression she didn’t get. Rebecca looked at him quizzically. ‘What?’

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I am the bad guy.’