Read Online Ethan Justice: Origins (Ethan Justice #1) by Simon Jenner - Free Book Online

is this watch.”
    Savannah grabbed his hand and twisted it, giving the watch a good looking over. “Rolex Daytona. How much is it worth?”
    “It’s the dual-metal, champagne-faced model. They go for around ten thousand new, but this was bought nine years ago as a graduation present. I might get two or three thousand for it if we can find a watch dealer.”
    “Or a pawn shop.”
    “We won’t get such a good price at a pawn shop.”
    “No, but I know one nearby who won’t ask any questions. The guy’s a sleaze, but we don’t want to attract any extra unwanted attention, right?”
    “Right.” He flicked the safety clasp on the gold and silver bracelet and slid the watch off. “Just out of interest, before I hand over my only asset of any real value...”
    “What?”
    “Did we actually have sex?”
    “No, but I would have, and it would have been the best you’d ever had.”
    “To be honest, that’s not saying much.” John cleared his throat, wishing to a superior power that he’d never said that. “So are we agreed that you still owe me sex once I hand this watch over?”
    “No, but if you’re nice to me I might kiss your cheek when all this is over, on one condition.”
    “Fair enough,” agreed John. “What is it?”
    “Tell me your real name.”
    John laughed. “Let’s get out of here before it’s too late. I’m sure I’ll get more than a kiss if I get locked up. I’d be the equivalent of a supermodel in prison.”
    She laughed. “You wish.”

7: Saturday 24th September, 15:30
    I am fifty yards behind the black Mercedes on a narrow road parallel to Chiswick High Street. Most of the old buildings here have been converted to flats. Rents must be high, and even the less fortunate on this street are wealthier than most. I am parked on double yellow lines. It is impossible to park here unless you are an agent who has no need to be concerned with traffic violations. I don’t want a record of being here and so watch all sides as well as the Mercedes. What are the fools waiting here for? I light a cigarette.
    My attention is focussed as I watch Wilson, the short and broad shouldered one, leave the car. He must be two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. I can take him. Stealth is everything, but they haven’t got the weapon yet and he is too close to his partner. He appears to be stretching his legs. Someone taps at my window. Shit. I have no disguise and do not turn as I lower the window and speak.
    “Yes?” I say, my peripheral vision recognising the large frame of an elderly man. I reach to my ankle and pull on the handle of my stiletto blade.
    “This is residents only parking. You’ll have to move on,” he says, much louder than I care for. The agents must not be alerted.
    I keep my eyes ahead and take my voice down to a whisper. “I’ll only be here a little while and I’m on double yellows so I’m not taking anyone’s space.”
    The man’s voice rises. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
    I have no choice. I put out my Marlboro Red in the ashtray and turn to the man. He is bigger than I first expected. In one motion, I pull free my knife and thrust the four inch narrow blade through the man’s throat. I get in three lightning stabs before he has time to raise his hands. He looks at me wide eyed as he clutches his throat and begins to stagger. I look him up and down and smile at him. Once upon a time he might have been a tough guy. His vocal chords and airways are damaged beyond repair, and his screams are barely audible gurgles that won’t betray my position. I open the car door and help the man down to the ground behind my van. He will die quietly. Illegal kill number two is less fun than number one. I return to my post.
    Twenty minutes pass before the Mercedes pulls away. Why are they crawling along? They must be following someone on foot. Eventually we reach Stamford Brook tube underground, and Wilson jumps out. I have to make a decision. Johnson is the man in