Free Keeping with Killers (The Salingers Book 1) by Adam Nicholls Page B

should become privy to that information.
    It would not surprise me to learn that you have questions that need answering, not to mention a painful sensation of abandonment. Please know that my retirement should come at the time of my career that my acquaintances become a threat to my family, and that I have left for no other reason than to protect you from my own mistakes.
     
    I will leave this letter within their capable hands and, when the time is right, it shall be handed to you by my colleague and good friend, David Crang.
     
    Stay strong and become better.
     
    Love,
    your father
     
    'Looks like he thought better of it. Never handed it to The Agency,' Greg offered.
    Blake stifled a tear, folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked to Greg, who had been reading over his shoulder the whole time. 'David Crang?'
    'Not me,' he stated, immediately recognising the accusation.
    'You swear?'
    'Far too fucking often,' he quipped, sighed, and patted Blake on the back. 'Come on–we got a body to move and a call to make.' Greg headed for the steps without looking back.
    'A call? To whom?'
    'The Agency,' he called down behind him. 'Who else?'
     

Chapter 12
     
    Mister Pimms sat patiently in the back of the limo, where everything smelt of a rich leather and squeaked every time he moved. It wasn't all bad though; nobody could see through the blackout windows, there was plenty of leg room, and at least he had a hot latte at his side.
    'Can't we just go in there and get her?' said the driver, overstepping his mark as usual.
    Pimms didn't reply. The driver's ideas were unimportant and he should be keeping his thoughts to himself. Besides, they didn't want any of her friends or neighbours to poke their nose in with information about who was seen taking her. No–this would go so much smoother away from her territory, where she could really taste the fear.
    They had pulled up just a little too late and seen her head into the building. If everything worked in their favour, she would be out shortly and they could get their job done, as swift and easily as The Boss had made it seem.
    The minutes rolled by. Pimms kept checking his watch, which only made it go that little bit slower. He was just about to call The Boss and tell him that she may have left via the rear exit, but it didn't seem wise. If she appeared at the moment he had ended the call, he would still be labelled a failure by his employer, and he knew exactly how that would end.
    'That's her,' he said to the driver, his eyes coming to life.
    Across the street, the contact that Wilkes had provided stepped outside the building and adjusted the collar of her long, beige trench coat. It was a slim fit for a lean woman, and it suited her perfectly. She glanced over, not seeming to notice the vehicle, and then headed up the street. Her long, blonde hair trailed behind her in the gentle breeze. In other circumstances, Pimms might have asked her out for a drink. But not now–there was business to attend to, and it wouldn't be pretty.
    'Alright, pull out slowly. We don't want to scare her. Not yet.'
    The driver did as he was commanded, which gave Pimms a sense of power that he very rarely got to experience. He was so used to being ordered around by The Boss that he never got a chance to make his own decisions. Even his home had been chosen and paid for in exchange for loyalty and the strictest obedience.
    The limo inched forward slowly, its lights still off so as not to alert her. But that didn't seem to stop her from constantly looking over her shoulder. It was probably strikingly obvious to her that she was being followed, but at this speed and in this manner, it was known to leave the victim with a speck of doubt. This would usually keep them from running, through a risk of feeling stupid if they were wrong.
    Of all the years he had been doing this, there had only been one runner–he was a young man who owed a lot of favours and even more money. He had been made well