Free The Grass Tattoo (#2 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) by Catriona King

without being arrested, and the coolness of her voice was infuriating him even further.
    “Now some gangster calls to tell me I owe them 10 million, 10 million. Where the hell do they get that from? Who are these bastards?”
    Joanne ignored the question. “Your job was to keep the Minister sweet, Bob. All you had to do was finesse the Horizon Project through the sub-committees, and we’d have been home and dry by now. But you couldn’t even manage that.”
    “Ron Burgess was fine, we got the approval through without a murmur, but he had to go and retire halfway through. Joe Watson is a different kind of Minister. He knows that the contracts are bogus. You’re embezzling public funds, Joanne.”
    “And you. Let’s remember that you’ve had half a million a year since 2008. It all adds up, Bobby. Watson has been interfering in everything since he joined S.F.F. You’ve had nearly a year to sort him out and you’ve done bugger-all. Now he’s going to blow it wide open. Did you really think that we’d do nothing? We’ve got millions invested in this!”
    “Who the hell is ‘we’? You said you were in this with Declan. He would never sanction killing Irene.”
    Joanne laughed caustically. “You’re right; my darling husband’s far too big a wimp for that. But did you really think he was the backer? Declan knows nothing about this. This is my project.”
    “Who else, then? Who’s ‘we’?”
    “No one you would know. The money’s from my contact in London, not someone you want to mess with. I warned you last week that I’d call London.”
    “You said that you’d give me a week. And I thought that you meant Declan was in London. Christ Joanne, these people are killers, you have to call them off me.”
    “It’s out of my hands now. I sank a fortune into Horizon, and so did our backer. We had it perfect. Approval, dummy contracts, everything ready to go. Just two more months to make millions and walk away scot-free...If you’d just done your part with Watson.”
    “He can’t be bought, I’ve tried. Believe me I’ve tried.”
    “Not hard enough! He’ll be bought, Bob, everyone has a price. We’re working on him right now and we’ll do it. But you’re out. You’re out and you’re dead unless you come up with the money.”
    “Ten million! Fuck! Where do you think I’ll get that? Where do you get ten from, anyway?”
    “Salary, plus what you stole from us to shove up your nose.”
    Leighton gasped audibly and she laughed.
    “Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out about the coke? There’s nothing you do that I don’t know about. Then there’s the money that my contact stands to lose if Watson goes public. Ten million should just about cover it.”
    There was silence for a moment, and then she spoke again, sarcastically.
    “At the airport, Bob? I do hope you‘re not trying to run?”
    “I’m going to London to try to borrow the money, you avaricious bitch.”
    “Good, glad to hear it. I look forward to seeing you when you get back on Friday.”
    “How did you know I was back on Friday?”
    “You can’t hide from us anywhere, Bobby. Remember that.”
    *** 
    John stood by the ballistics’ lab door taking one last look at his light show. He’d finally worked it out. The bullet was identified, ready to be matched with the rifle, if they ever found it. He corrected himself mentally, when, not if. And now the bullet’s angle and speed of trajectory had been calculated to within half a millimetre.
    He knew that he should be pleased with himself for succeeding, even once, in Des’ domain, but all it showed was that they were dealing with a professional. And if they’d been that professional in their aim, they’d be equally professional in their disappearance. Marc had his work cut out on this one.
    John shrugged, resigned to the knowledge that too many murders were never solved. Then he smiled. Craig’s fail rate was much lower than average. He’d find their killer, if they