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'Tell me,’ he said. ‘What’s it like?'

The bartender raised an eyebrow. 'Huh?'

'Running a bar in these parts. Must be peaceful.’

'Well, I can’t complain, mate. Like you said, it’s quiet out here. I stay afloat from loyal customers. People keep coming back. It’s never more than steady, but I do alright. I don’t need to pay to have a drink. It’s the little things you take pleasure in.' He paused, surveying the room. Quietly proud. 'Sorry, I’m rambling.'

King shook his head. 'No, it’s nice to hear. Gives me some insight into a different type of life to mine.'

'A future career prospect, maybe?' the bartender said, chuckling.

'I doubt it.'

'You don’t seem like much of a talker.'

'I’m not.' King paused again. ‘Sorry, I’m more the solitary type. Don’t do well with small talk. But I appreciate your company, don’t get me wrong.’

'Likewise, bud. I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy the rest of the trip.’

The bartender moved to tend to the table of the three locals. They had exited the bar in unison a minute previously, exchanging waves with him. King slid the cuff of his leather jacket up his forearm and checked his watch.

Almost midnight.

The abrupt departure of the locals signified that the place would be closing shortly. The two workers seemed oblivious to this fact. Definitely out-of-town folk. They lounged back in their chairs, deep in conversation, blissfully unaware. Then again, King often saw what others did not. He’d learnt to notice small details.

This time of year the temperature dropped to almost zero in these parts. He zipped his jacket up to the collar. It would be a cold walk up into town.

'Wrap it up, gents,’ the bartender announced to the room. He scrubbed away at the tabletop with a wet sponge, cradling three empty beer mugs in his other hand.

King slid a twenty out of his wallet and dropped it on the countertop, even though the two beers were only six each. From across the room the bartender spotted the red note and assumed he wanted change.

'Be right there, mate,’ he said.

'Don’t worry about it. For the service.'

The bartender smiled. ‘Ah, of course. Tipping. You lot are too generous.'

King raised a hand in a gesture of farewell and headed out into the night. He stepped down into an outdoor dining area housing empty tables and full ashtrays. All coated in a thin layer of frost. Ahead, a deserted mountain road twisted around a bend, turning steep as it ascended up the hill into Jameson. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as a wave of cold washed over him. The temperature had dropped to near arctic. With each exhale, a cloud of steam rose from between his lips. Most would baulk at the thought of walking through the night in such conditions.

Not King. He found the solitude calming.

He crossed the road, feeling the asphalt crackle under his boots. Thick trees with pine branches boxed him in, stirring a slight sense of claustrophobia in his chest. He let his thoughts settle, finding a rhythm as he strolled across the mildew coating the side of the road.

He found a particularly large pine jutting out from the tree line, almost touching the asphalt. Acting on an urge, he sat down against the trunk. The ridges and bumps of the wood pressed into his back, but he didn’t care. He decided he would spend a moment resting, observing his surroundings. There hadn’t been much time for that in his life.

The dirt was cold. It soaked through his khaki trousers. He let himself enjoy the sudden quiet. There were still sounds, of course. Close by, a cricket chirped somewhere under the dirt, and overhead the trees rustled in the alpine breeze. He remained unperturbed. His career had taught him to blend into his surroundings and he did just that. Shortly after he sat down, the night wrapped around his figure. He breathed in the cold air. Enjoying the tranquility.

The faint glow of a pair of headlights broke the darkness. King assumed it was the pair of workers from the bar. Their battered old pickup truck came into view a few seconds later, the engine chugging throatily as it tackled the steep mountain road. He knew he was invisible to them. He watched the vehicle approach until it drew parallel with him, moving fast, heading for Jameson.

Then a figure stepped out of the woods further up the road.

CHAPTER 2

The silhouette had come from the opposite side of the forest. King watched as the pickup slowed to avoid a collision. Its headlights lit up the figure. A man dressed in simple clothing. He wore a plain blue windbreaker and a pair of jeans. His hair was cut short, almost to the skull. His face was sharply defined and clean. It bore a look of restrained panic.

King sat completely still. Something about the situation felt off. He saw the driver’s side window roll down.

'Can I help you?’ a voice from inside called out.

The voice was curious. A little hesitant. One of the workers, surprised to see another soul in these parts.

The man from the woods stepped out of the pickup’s path, moving to the driver’s side.

'I’m lost,’ he said, his voice quivering.

'You want a lift into town?'

‘That'd be great,' the man said. 'Me and my buddy have been walking in circles for hours.'

'Your buddy?'

A second man emerged from the trees, dressed similarly. His face was also clean. Both men’s clothes were brand new. There wasn’t a semblance of dirt on either of them. King knew for certain they were not telling the truth. They had not been lost in the forest for hours. In fact, he was sure they knew exactly where they were.

They’d been waiting.

The second man walked over to the passenger’s side window. It rolled down too. Now both workers were exposed.

'Thanks for this,' the second man said.

'No problem. You boys okay?'

'I think so.'

'Cold night to get lost.'

'Tell me about it.'

'Anyway, jump in the back tray. We’ll get you into town.'

Neither of the men moved. The man by the driver’s side visibly stiffened.

'Are your names David Lee and Miles Price?' he said, his tone now firm and authoritative. Demanding an instantaneous response.

'Yeah,' came a voice from inside the truck. 'How’d you know—'

That was what killed them.

The correct response to realising a couple of strangers from the forest knew your name would be to stamp on the accelerator and get as far away as possible. As soon as the confirmation came, both men slid guns from their belts in unison. There were suppressors attached. King couldn’t ascertain their exact make in the low light, but they were fearsome-looking pistols. He guessed Glock 17s.

There was nothing he could do to save the workers. It only took one shot through each man’s skull to silence them forever. The two discharges were muffled, but no suppressor fully silences the noise of a gunshot. Instead, a pair of vicious coughs echoed down the road. Without a soul around to hear.

Except Jason King.

He watched the pair of killers move with calculated efficiency, each sliding a corpse out of the respective doors. They dragged the bodies along the road and heaved them into the rear tray. They constantly checked for cars, but the road was empty at this time of night. When they were done they straightened up and slammed the tray closed.

'We need to get rid of this before anyone sees. Take our payment and get the hell out of here.'

'You didn’t see anyone?’

'No.'

'Take a quick look. I need to clean the blood off the seats.'

King remained motionless. He clenched his fists. Perhaps he would be spotted.

The man lit up a flashlight and scanned it quickly over the surrounding trees. The yellow beam passed briefly over King. He remained motionless, resting against the tree trunk.