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Authors: Stephen Leather
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closed. It had been a little under three years since Meacher had seen Kruse but he didn't appear to have changed. His upper body was trim but muscular, his thighs thick and powerful. His hair was close cropped, light brown and flecked with grey at the temples, and there were lines around his eyes and mouth that made him look older than his twenty-eight years.
'Hello, Len,' said Meacher.
The room was little more than a cell, three paces wide and four paces long with a single bed that had been stripped of its bedding, a cheap wooden wardrobe and a door which Meacher presumed led to a bathroom. A bare lightbulb hung down from the middle of the ceiling. There was no curtain at the window, though a thin wire had been strung across the top of the frame as if one had once been there.
'Hello, Jody.' Kruse slowly opened his eyes. 'Long time, no see.' His face crinkled into a smile but there was little warmth in it, and the expression vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared.
Meacher walked into the room and closed the door behind him. There was no carpet, just bare floorboards, but they had been polished to a shine. Kruse was a fanatic when it came to cleanliness, and Meacher knew that if he ran his fingers along any surface they'd come away spotless. Kruse remained seated and watched Meacher with dispassionate eyes as he waited for him to speak.
Meacher smoothed his beard with his right hand. 'How've you been, Len?'
The corners of Kruse's lips turned down a fraction. 'Same old, same old.'
Meacher lifted the briefcase. 'Are you available for a short-term contract?'
The smile appeared again. 'Who do you want me to kill this time, Jody?' Kruse asked. His chest shuddered as he laughed, a dry, rasping chuckle that sounded more like a death rattle.
' I Aad!' Sean's voice jolted Wright out of his reverig^He turned JL/and grinned at his seven-year-old son. The boy ran forward for a hug and Wright scooped him up off the floor. 'Hiya, Dad,' said Sean, throwing his arms around Wright's neck.
'Whoa, you're choking me,' said Wright, but he didn't try to break free. Over his son's shoulder he saw Janie, her face a polite mask. She looked pointedly at her wristwatch.
Wright set his son down. He stepped forward, prepared to kiss Janie on the cheek, but her eyes hardened, leaving him in no doubt that the gesture wouldn't be appreciated. Wright's stomach lurched at the thought that she couldn't even bear to touch him any more. 'Do you want a coffee or something?' he asked.
Janie shook her head and looked at her watch again. 'I'll pick him up here at six.'
'That's okay, I can drop him off at home.' r� 'No,' she snapped. Her lips tightened as if she was holding something back, then she forced a smile. 'Here's fine.' She knelt down beside Sean. 'Give Mummy a kiss,' she said. Sean kissed her dutifully on the cheek. 'Be good,' she said.
Wright watched her go, her heels clicking on the tiled floor of the burger bar. He ruffled his son's hair. 'What do you want to eat?'
'Mummy gave me breakfast already,' said his son.
'Yeah? What did you have?'
'Muesli.'
'Rabbit food,' said Wright scathingly. 'Wouldn't you like a cheeseburger?'
'Mummy says red meat is bad for you.'
'Burgers aren't red. They're brown.' Sean giggled and Wright's spirits lifted. He might have lost his wife, but his son was still very much his son. Even if he was having muesli for breakfast. Flecks of rain peppered the window. 'So, where do you want to go?' Wright asked.
'Anywhere.'
'What about the Trocadero? We could hit the video games.'
'Mummy says I shouldn't play video games,' said Sean.
'She said what?'
Sean wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 'She says they encourage violence.'
Wright snorted softly. He knew that he shouldn't contradict his ex-wife, but sometimes she talked absolute nonsense. What did she hope to achieve by feeding the boy muesli and keeping him away from video games? She'd be putting him in a dress next. 'Okay,' he said. 'What do you
'Hello, Len,' said Meacher.
The room was little more than a cell, three paces wide and four paces long with a single bed that had been stripped of its bedding, a cheap wooden wardrobe and a door which Meacher presumed led to a bathroom. A bare lightbulb hung down from the middle of the ceiling. There was no curtain at the window, though a thin wire had been strung across the top of the frame as if one had once been there.
'Hello, Jody.' Kruse slowly opened his eyes. 'Long time, no see.' His face crinkled into a smile but there was little warmth in it, and the expression vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared.
Meacher walked into the room and closed the door behind him. There was no carpet, just bare floorboards, but they had been polished to a shine. Kruse was a fanatic when it came to cleanliness, and Meacher knew that if he ran his fingers along any surface they'd come away spotless. Kruse remained seated and watched Meacher with dispassionate eyes as he waited for him to speak.
Meacher smoothed his beard with his right hand. 'How've you been, Len?'
The corners of Kruse's lips turned down a fraction. 'Same old, same old.'
Meacher lifted the briefcase. 'Are you available for a short-term contract?'
The smile appeared again. 'Who do you want me to kill this time, Jody?' Kruse asked. His chest shuddered as he laughed, a dry, rasping chuckle that sounded more like a death rattle.
' I Aad!' Sean's voice jolted Wright out of his reverig^He turned JL/and grinned at his seven-year-old son. The boy ran forward for a hug and Wright scooped him up off the floor. 'Hiya, Dad,' said Sean, throwing his arms around Wright's neck.
'Whoa, you're choking me,' said Wright, but he didn't try to break free. Over his son's shoulder he saw Janie, her face a polite mask. She looked pointedly at her wristwatch.
Wright set his son down. He stepped forward, prepared to kiss Janie on the cheek, but her eyes hardened, leaving him in no doubt that the gesture wouldn't be appreciated. Wright's stomach lurched at the thought that she couldn't even bear to touch him any more. 'Do you want a coffee or something?' he asked.
Janie shook her head and looked at her watch again. 'I'll pick him up here at six.'
'That's okay, I can drop him off at home.' r� 'No,' she snapped. Her lips tightened as if she was holding something back, then she forced a smile. 'Here's fine.' She knelt down beside Sean. 'Give Mummy a kiss,' she said. Sean kissed her dutifully on the cheek. 'Be good,' she said.
Wright watched her go, her heels clicking on the tiled floor of the burger bar. He ruffled his son's hair. 'What do you want to eat?'
'Mummy gave me breakfast already,' said his son.
'Yeah? What did you have?'
'Muesli.'
'Rabbit food,' said Wright scathingly. 'Wouldn't you like a cheeseburger?'
'Mummy says red meat is bad for you.'
'Burgers aren't red. They're brown.' Sean giggled and Wright's spirits lifted. He might have lost his wife, but his son was still very much his son. Even if he was having muesli for breakfast. Flecks of rain peppered the window. 'So, where do you want to go?' Wright asked.
'Anywhere.'
'What about the Trocadero? We could hit the video games.'
'Mummy says I shouldn't play video games,' said Sean.
'She said what?'
Sean wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 'She says they encourage violence.'
Wright snorted softly. He knew that he shouldn't contradict his ex-wife, but sometimes she talked absolute nonsense. What did she hope to achieve by feeding the boy muesli and keeping him away from video games? She'd be putting him in a dress next. 'Okay,' he said. 'What do you
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