Free People Die by Kevin Wignall Page A

Berg’s dead.”
    “That line’s getting tiresome. Now let’s save time: I know Berg’s alive and I know he wants me dead. What I don’t know is why.”
    Pearson responded, his tone clipped and harsh, “Okay, Hoffman, I won’t insult your intelligence, but kindly do me the honor of not insulting mine.” He sounded like a lawyer now as well as looking like one, a sense of gravitas about him that was as incongruous in the child-friendly surroundings as JJ with his gun. “If you place the needs of Russian Mafia factions above those of the British Government you can hardly be surprised at the outcome.”
    “I don’t put anyone’s needs above anyone else’s,” JJ said, not making the more obvious objection that he had no Mafia connections.
    Undeterred and combative, Pearson countered dismissively, “Of course! Your famous contractual status. But I’m afraid being a dual-nationality mercenary offers you no dispensation. You take the Queen’s shilling, you abide by the Queen’s rules. Viner knew that, you knew it, everyone connected knew it.”
    JJ didn’t respond at first, confused by how certain Pearson was, and by his disdain and bloody-mindedness in the face of a gun. Then he realized that Pearson really didn’t have any idea what was going on, that he’d been fed a story and had taken it whole, choking on it, losing any sense of reason he might have had.
    “You’re wrong,” JJ said eventually “Yeah, I kill people for money, but that’s all I do. I don’t deal information or play politics, I just kill the people I’m paid to kill. And Viner and the other people who worked with him ... Why would any of them have played games? What could they have gained from it that they didn’t have already ?”
    Pearson’s expression changed to one of mild condescension and he said, “Taking what you say at face value, I am willing to accept the possibility of your being an unwitting pawn in Viner’s treachery, and if that really is the case then I do sympathize with your plight. But the die is cast. It’s in Berg’s hands now.”
    “That’s why I intend to get to him.”
    “A fanciful thought,” Pearson said, smiling, the condescension oozing like liquid around his words. “But Berg’s protection isn’t even in our hands. An overreaction in my view but, without knowing the full extent of Viner’s network, Philip thought it safer to be at a step’s remove.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m sorry, I do sympathize, as I’ve made clear, but I really don’t think I’m in a position to help you any further.”
    JJ had to admire his gall or self-belief or whatever it was making him talk like that when he was the one in the position of weakness. “You seem to misunderstand something, Pearson. I didn’t come here for help, I came here to get information. And I’ll get it, because out there maybe it’s my life in danger but in here it’s yours. And, if necessary, it’s your children’s too.”
    Pearson snapped back, “Leave my children out of this.” A knee-jerk response, a reaction so immediate and powerful that for a moment he looked ready to launch himself from the sofa.
    JJ responded just as forcefully though, suddenly sick of Pearson’s attitude, the words spitting out rapid-fire. “No! No one gets left out, not Viner, not my girlfriend, not me! Berg wants me dead. Well I have news—I’ve killed four people today and I’m nowhere near finished. I’ll kill you and your kids and the nanny and your neighbors if I feel like it, and I’ll keep killing people till they get the message that they picked on the wrong guy!” It worked, Pearson looking truly rattled for the first time. JJ added more calmly, “Now, how much do you love your children?”
    “I love my children a great deal,” Pearson said, earnest, the first indication of a real person beneath all that bluster. “But I can’t give you information I don’t have.”
    “I’ll be the judge of that. What were you