Read Online Endgame (Agent 21) by Chris Ryan - Free Book Online Page A

was dry, his skin tingling with hate and panic. He tried to play the video again. But when he clicked, it didn’t work.
    ‘
El Día de Reyes?
The king of kings?’ he said, puzzled.
    ‘Epiphany,’ said Ricky. ‘Sixth of January.’ He bit his lip. ‘Foster parents, once,’ he added. ‘Knew all that kind of stuff, crammed it into me and I guess some of it stuck.’
    Zak looked at his watch and made a quick calculation. It was 8:45 a.m. That gave him just shy of eighty-seven hours to find his Guardian Angels. And they could be anywhere in the world.
    Silence in the room. He could feel Ricky looking at him, sense the waves of sympathy coming from him. For some reason that made him even angrier. He didn’t want sympathy.
    He wanted to get his Guardian Angels back.
    ‘I don’t understand what he was on about,’ Ricky said. ‘How can a place be between yesterday and tomorrow? It doesn’t make sense.’
    ‘It’ll make sense,’ Zak said grimly. ‘We just haven’t worked it out yet.’ He looked around the flat. ‘I shouldn’t have come here,’ he said. ‘I’ve put you in danger. I’ll go now. I know what I have to do.’ He removed the USB stick and stood up.
    ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Ricky said.
    ‘To find Raf and Gabs.’
    ‘Not on your own.’
    Zak narrowed his eyes. ‘It’s a trap, Ricky. Can’t you see that? Cruz thinks I’ll do anything to save them, and he’s right. He’s forcing me to go to him so that he can kill me. And if you’re by my side, he’ll kill you too.’
    Ricky shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. From what you’ve said, he’s had two opportunities to kill you this morning. Why didn’t he?’
    Zak didn’t have an answer for that. But his mind was made up. He was doing this alone. ‘I’m sorry, Ricky. I know this has been as bad a morning for you as it has for me. But this is my mission, not yours.’
    Ricky’s eyes flashed. ‘He killed Felix. That makes me involved. End of.’
    ‘Forget it,’ Zak said bluntly. ‘I’m leaving. Alone.’ He stood up and headed to the exit. But when he was three metres from the door, he stopped.
    He’d heard something. A scratching noise on the other side of the door. Instinct took over. He strode towards it and peered through the spy hole. His pulse rose at what he saw: four men in full combat gear – helmets, flak jackets and assault rifles. They were clearly preparing to enter.
    Zak turned sharply to Ricky, who was just behind him. ‘Hold them as long as you can,’ he mouthed. ‘And remember, you never saw me . . .’ He pushed quickly past his fellow agent and back into the main room of the flat. His eyes picked out the line of baseball caps on the wall. He grabbed a lime-green one and ran to the open window. He could already hear shouts coming from behind the door as he looked out.
    His stomach turned.
    The window-cleaning cradle that he had used to scale the building was still empty, but now it was moving downwards. Vertical distance between Zak and it: fifteen metres. And the distance was increasing with every second. It was blowing and rattling precariously in the wind . . .
    There was the sound of a heavy fist banging on the door. Zak looked over his shoulder, then back out of the window. He knew he had no option.
    He took a deep breath, then climbed through the open window, trying to stop his brain focusing on the terrifying drop from here to the ground – the very thought of which made the strength drain from his muscles.
Concentrate on the cradle
, he told himself.
Concentrate on the cable.
    He heard the door burst open. He looked down. The cradle had descended another five metres. He couldn’t wait.
    He pushed himself out and, still clutching the baseball cap, let his body fall.
    Zak kept his arms by his side and his legs straight as he tried to ignore the horrible rushing sound in his ears. The drop seemed to take an age. He tried to look straight down – to keep his eyes on the landing zone