Lewis tried to blink tears away, but gravity held them on her eye. Morgan took a tissue from one of the ambulance’s shelves and delicately dabbed them.
“You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever seen. I’m going to come with you to the hospital.”
“No,” she said, fighting against the drug that now began to overtake her. “No hospital, Morgan.”
He had to hunch over to catch the rest of her words, which were lost to Knight. Finally, Lewis’s lips stopped moving, the slow rise and fall of her chest showing the signs of a woman in a deep, drug-fueled delirium.
“What did she say?” Knight asked Morgan.
When the American turned to face him, his eyes reminded Knight of an impending storm. There was calm now, but soon all would be destruction and violence.
“That we finish this.”
Chapter 61
Jack Morgan and Peter Knight stepped from the ambulance, the paramedic pulling the doors closed behind them. The vehicle’s lights and siren started up and police officers hurriedly cleared a lane for it to pull away. Given the severity and nature of the attack, a police car followed in the ambulance’s wake to ride shotgun. Morgan noticed the precaution, and gave his thanks to the police sergeant.
“She’s one of ours,” the woman said.
“She saved my life,” Morgan told her. “Please look after her.”
“We will,” the sergeant promised. “I’m sorry that we can’t let you inside. If it was up to me...”
“You’ve done enough,” he assured her. In truth, it killed him that he could not run to Cook’s side, even in death, but if he was to be denied that proximity to the woman he loved, then he would take himself where he was needed. He would take himself to where her killer was hiding, and there, he would deliver justice.
“We need to go,” he told Knight.
“Our car will be here any second,” said Knight, and sure enough, a black Range Rover appeared in that moment at the end of the street. “But that’s not ours,” Knight wondered, ready at any moment to shove Morgan into cover should the occupants prove hostile.
At the behest of a waving officer, the vehicle slowed to a stop ten meters short of the cordon. There the passenger door opened, and Knight felt his body relax as a familiar figure stepped into the street and beckoned toward them.
“Over here!” Colonel Marcus De Villiers waved, and after a final thank you to the police sergeant, Morgan and Knight slipped under the cordon to join him.
“Have you seen Lewis?” asked the Guards officer.
Morgan nodded. “We have. She’s badly beaten, but alive.”
“Thank God,” De Villiers sighed. As head of royal security, Lewis fell under his command, and there was no doubt in the Private agents’ minds that De Villiers truly cared for Lewis’s well-being.
“And Cook?” the man asked hopefully.
Morgan said nothing. Knight shook his head.
“Morgan, I’m so sorry.”
Morgan’s mind was miles from sympathies. A million miles from them. It was only concerned with retribution.
Perhaps De Villiers saw as much.
“Get into the car, Morgan,” he ordered as if to a soldier. “Not you,” he said to Knight as he tried to follow. “I need to speak with Morgan alone.”
Chapter 62
As the Range Rover’s door closed behind them, Morgan was about to ask De Villiers what he wanted to speak about. Instead, he watched with surprise as the Colonel slammed his fist into the headrest of the empty passenger seat.
“Bastards!” he snarled. “Spineless, gutless bastards!” He punched again, breathing heavily. “They’ll pay for this — Lewis is one of mine.” The head of royal security inhaled deeply. “An attack on her is... It’s an attack on the Crown, Morgan.” De Villiers shook his head. “And Cook? She was awarded an OBE for what she did in Afghanistan. She’s done as much for her country as any other person.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Morgan asked, his manners blunted by emotion.
“Why?” De Villiers choked, as if it were obvious. “Because I want to help you.”
“You can’t help in this. Our work for the Princess is over. We found Sophie. We found her killer.”
“It’s over, is it?” De Villiers shook his head. “Not when Lewis is in the hospital it isn’t. Not when...” He left Jane Cook’s name and fate unspoken. “Look, Morgan, you may not have the highest opinion of me, that’s clear enough, but I am a soldier — a British soldier — and we believe in honor and justice. Someone out there has murdered a former army officer, and badly beaten one of my police officers. I want whoever did it found.”
“Then look for them.”
“I don’t need to, because you already know who it is, don’t you? You’re like a bulldog straining at the leash, Morgan. You’re not sniffing for clues — you’re ready to tear out a throat.”
“I don’t know who it was,” Morgan lied.
“Bullshit! Total bullshit!”
“And what if it is bullshit? Do you think I’d tell you, so that you can get in my way?”
De Villiers laughed. “Get in your way?” He shook his head. “Morgan, Lewis is family to me. I want to help you. I want you to find these people before anyone else does. Do I have to spell out why?”
Morgan looked into the officer’s eyes, and believed him — De Villiers wanted justice. The kind that couldn’t be delivered in a British courtroom.
“No,” Morgan answered.
“Good.” De Villiers nodded with finality. “Now. I expect you’ve been wondering where to find a gun?”
Chapter 63
Peter Knight watched as Morgan emerged from the back seat of the Range Rover. No sooner had the door closed than the vehicle pulled away quickly up the street.
“Our own car’s here.” Knight gestured to a black Audi dispatched from Private London. “Where to?”
“Headquarters.” Knight recognized from his boss’s tone that it was not a good idea to dig for further information right now.
As they crossed to the waiting car, Morgan threw one more forlorn look toward the building that housed Jane Cook’s body. It would be some time before the pathologists and crime scene investigators were ready to take her away, and it pained Morgan to know that Cook was alone and cold on a kitchen floor. He knew from experience that there was no dignity in death, but Cook’s fate seemed exceedingly cruel. The fact that his own life was in danger did not even enter into his mind. Instead, Jack Morgan’s emotions swung from crushing sadness to red-hot rage.
“I’m going to rip his throat out,” he promised as they climbed into the car, repeating the image that De Villiers had put in front of him.
“We’ll get him,” Knight promised.
“We’ll finish him,” Morgan corrected. “This doesn’t end in an arrest, Peter. I understand if you don’t want in on that, but those are the rules.”
“I’m with you,” Knight said, meeting the hard stare of his friend and leader. “I’m with you, Jack,” he vowed again, his mind then catching on the crux of what Morgan was saying — this was not an ordinary case. The rules had changed. No, Knight caught himself thinking, not just the rules. The entire game.
“We have to think like Flex,” said Knight. “The man’s clearly got no limits. No boundaries. What else is he capable of?”
“Anything. He’s sick. You should get hold of your family, Peter. Have them brought into Private HQ.”