Free Alicia Myles 2 - Crusader's Gold by David Leadbeater Page A

silk, and sporting a thick beard. Beady little flashing eyes that could have belonged to either a rodent or one of Dante’s demons. Crouch knew instantly that this man’s slaying days would end today. Then, almost against their will his eyes found Riley. Was it really him? Would he be recognizable? What if—
    But Riley had already seen him. It was as if an arrow shot between them—its trail a burning streak lined with old memories, old promises and a thousand unanswered questions. The intensity was so strong it stopped Crouch in his tracks and made Riley lose concentration, suddenly ignoring his client. The bomb maker caught on and turned, more prone to jumpiness than a kangaroo in mating season.
    Riley rose quickly, surveying the entire scene as Crouch watched. In the next second he reacted in contradiction of Crouch’s expectations and smiled widely, waving the Captain over.
    “Michael! Michael! So good to see you. How long’s it been? Ten years?”
    “More.” Crouch, caught in the spotlight, walked over, now even more conscious of the many people milling all about. The bomb maker in particular would have a contingency plan and might even now have a finger close to the proverbial trigger.
    “I wondered when we would meet again,” Riley said, in a tone implying absolute truth.
    “I thought you might be dead. Buried in a ditch. Abducted and never found. I searched for you for many years.”
    Riley clearly read and understood the pain and outrage in Crouch’s voice. “I never asked anyone to mourn me.”
    “And what? You’re a terrorist now?”
    Riley laughed, turning toward the bomb maker. “You’ll have to forgive my friend here. He’s a member of the SAS and not quite the stylish diplomat.”
    The bomb maker took that as a sign to flee, hopping over the back of the chair and showing Crouch, for the first time, that he held a number of small tubes in his right hand. Crouch stared first at them and then back at Riley.
    “What have you done? Can you not see all these people?”
    “You just cost me fifteen mill, asswipe. Now you’ll be shoveling the remains of tourists up whilst I escape in my plane.”
    Crouch lunged, shocked but unable to let it pass. “Did you sell him those bombs?”
    “The mixing ingredients, yes.” Riley laughed, not an ounce of morality evident. “Now get the fuck outta—”
    Crouch smashed him on the bridge of the nose, breaking it, then caught him under the chin. Riley flinched and grunted, shocked and reeling aside. Seeing that Riley left a small disc-like object on the low table, Crouch swept it out of reach. Riley stared at it.
    “You don’t know what you’re doing, Michael.”
    “I know you let the Regiment down. Let the Army down. I trusted you. Believed in you. And this . . . this!” Crouch attacked again, unable to help himself, dealing a blow that audibly snapped Riley’s jawbone. The ex-soldier buckled.
    “Let . . . let them down?” he babbled, wincing from the new pain. “Get down on the floor, man, because I really want you to live through this. Live and prosper. Because one day . . . one day I’m going to make you pay.”
    Crouch took Riley’s advice immediately, surprised as he reacted without thought. The explosion shook the lobby, sending chunks of debris through the air. The first noise Crouch heard an instant after the explosion was the bump next to him and then he set eyes on the first casualty.
    A flight attendant, stopping in the city for the night, living and breathing and feeling but a moment ago, rendered a lifeless carcass through Riley’s actions.
    Crouch turned away from the blank stare and the blood flow, saw Riley standing at the far end of the devastated room.
    “One day,” Riley mouthed, making a gun of his hand and pulling the trigger. “One . . . fucking . . . day.”

THIRTEEN
     
     
    Alicia listened as Crouch told his tale, at first surprised to find Crouch had such a horrific nemesis in his past, but then remembering that in