“All right… I’ll do what you want but please don’t hurt us.”
“Make the call.”
They always made this decision. It was human nature. Kick the can down the road. If she called her daughter that would give her extra time to live right now; time to think — space to breathe and come up with some kind of strategy. He knew she was going to make this decision before he had even posed it to her — he had read it in her eyes. He studied his victims with an assiduity most people were unable to match, and his hard work and commitment to the job always yielded the results he was seeking.
She picked up the phone and started to push the buttons.
Tiger pulled the slider and pushed a round into the chamber. It was unncecssary but people almost expected it. They had seen it in the movies and knew it meant business — the final step before the lead started flying and things got ugly. “And make it convincing,” he whispered. “Very convincing, or…” he glanced over at Monkey who was using his fingers to shovel her husband’s noodles into his face.
The woman nodded. She understood. “Xiaoli? This is your mother. I have very bad news…”
After she had finished the call he took the receiver from her and placed it gently in the cradle. “You did good today, Mrs Zhang.”
“Why do you want my daughter?” she asked. “Who are you?”
“We are the long shadow of your greatest fears.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Dirk Kruger?” Hawke repeated the name with disgust. Lea and Ryan shared a silent glance each knowing what the other was thinking.
Maroni nodded sullenly. “Yes. You know him?”
Hawke turned his head to look back at the mirror. He saw only his own reflection, but he knew the rest of the team were right there, hearing what he was hearing. He glanced over at Ryan, and he could guess what the young man had felt when he heard that name. It was Ryan whom Kruger had kidnapped and beaten and used to help him find the Lost City of the Incas.
Hawke turned to face Maroni. “What’s Zito’s relationship with Kruger, exactly?”
The Italian shrugged. “How should I know?”
Hawke hit the man hard in the face. He had struck him harder than he needed to, driven by the memories of the Seastead battle.
Maroni’s head smacked back on his left shoulder before rolling forward again. Blood frothed and bubbled in his mouth and he looked like he was about to pass out.
Hawke grabbed a tuft of the man’s long, raven-black hair in his hand and held his head up straight. “Don’t piss me about or you’ll get more of that, got it?”
As the Italian mumbled something in reply, Hawke punched him hard in the stomach. He reeled forward, sucking air through his bloodied mouth and coughing wildly.
“I’m a details man, Marco,” Hawke said. He kicked the table over and it crashed to the floor upside down. Then he smashed one of the wooden chairs into pieces, snatched up one of the legs and held it like a baseball bat. “Give me some details, or I’m going to smash your kneecaps.”
Hawke stared at the young man, chained to a chair in an interrogation room. He hoped he had convinced him he could do it, but deep inside he wasn’t even sure himself if he could do it anymore. Maroni was a low-level scumbag, working for a medium-level scumbag like Zito. Now he had just found out that the man pulling their strings was none other than Dirk Kruger. It had lit his fuse and he could feel it burning down, creeping ever closer to the dynamite keg that lurked inside him. Suddenly Marco Maroni was everyone who had ever crossed him, and yet could he break the man’s knees with this chair leg just to get information about Kruger?
He was about to find out.
Hawke eyed-up Maroni’s right knee and swung it back ready for the attack, but then the Italian started singing like the proverbial canary.
“No, please, no! Wait! I will tell you what you want to know!”
Inside, Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. Would he have swung the chair leg and crippled the young man? He didn’t to know, not anymore. “Well, go on then,” he said, bringing the smashed chair leg down to his side. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“You must understand that Zito is a very private man, and he has a large organization around him; many, many people work for Mr Zito and he keeps them compartmentalized so only he sees the full picture.”
“Go on.”
“I tell you this so you understand that I only know part of what goes on.”
“Let’s hope it’s a big enough part to save your knees.”
Maroni looked at the make-shift baseball bat hanging from Hawke’s right arm. “I am employed by Signor Zito to guard the island, that is my job. There are many of us on the island, I am but one.”
“Get to the good stuff,” Hawke said, glancing at the two-way mirror. Jansen would be back any minute. “I want to know about Kruger’s part in all this.”
“Zito met with Mr Kruger several times over the past few weeks. The first few times were in Rome and Naples, and then when he thought he could trust him he invited him back to the Isola Pacifica.”
Reaper stepped into the room. His eyes crawled from Marco Maroni’s shocked and bloody face up to the Englishman. “Jansen is on his way, mon ami.”
“You heard him, Marco. Dish the dirt and make it fast. My friend here can hold that door long enough for me to swing this bat. What did they discuss on the island?”
“Kruger is searching for some kind of ancient relic.”
“A relic?”
Maroni nodded. “Si — but not just any relic. The South African was very keen for Zito to understand that this was a special relic, a very ancient and powerful one. He said it had some kind of power that would unlock a great secret. The other guards and I thought it was a joke, but Zito took it seriously enough to take the contract and use his extensive network to locate and snatch the manuscript.”
Hawke believed Maroni was telling the truth. “Tell me more about this relic — what’s this power Kruger was talking about?”
“He was very vague when he spoke to Signor Zito and I did not hear everything. I am part of Zito’s security so when I’m in the room I’m there to protect him, not listen to his private business. If he finds out I have spoken to you he will kill me.”
“The relic, Marco,” Hawke repeated. “Tell me about what Kruger’s looking for.”
“Like I say, I didn’t hear everything they talked about. All I can tell you is that the South African seemed nervous when he talked about it, but also excited. His eyes lit up like diamonds when he described it to Zito.”
“And how did he describe it?”
“He said it contained some kind of special property that gave it an immense power and that it was priceless in value. He said he wanted it because he has an appreciation of ancient weapons and wanted it in his collection — but he would never explain precisely what it was.”
Hawke snorted and looked up at Reaper. The Frenchman returned a similar look of disbelief. Dirk Kruger had zero interest in collecting ancient artefacts and relics and was always about nothing but the money. This was the very same man who had nearly brought a genocidal bacterial plague to the world just for a large pay off from a deranged, rogue Syrian terrorist named Ziad Saqqal.
“So Zito works for Kruger and Kruger wants some kind of ancient relic?” Hawke said, almost to himself.
“Yes.”
“And what’s his next move?” Hawke asked.
Maroni shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know exactly, but I can tell you that neither Zito nor the South African has a clue what that manuscript says, so they are going to need someone to translate it.”