Knight didn’t point out that Private’s own agent was beyond help. “Lewis is police. Her own people deserve to know what’s happening.”
Morgan shook his head. “I’m getting her out of this.”
Knight could see that the shock of Cook’s death was clouding Morgan’s judgment. The American had pulled off so many daring feats that Knight had lost count, but now that record was pushing Morgan into making rash decisions that would not only cost Lewis her life, but likely Jack Morgan his own.
“This is what he wants, Jack,” Knight argued. “He wants you to run in there with no plan.”
“I have a plan,” Morgan protested. “I’m going to kill him.”
Knight reached out and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. “Jack. Mate. Please. Reconsider this. Getting yourself killed will not bring her back.”
But there was no reply for Knight, nor recognition that his words had even been heard. Instead Morgan looked to the sky. “Chopper’s here.”
Chapter 54
FLEX STOOD BACK as his accomplice delivered a kick into Lewis’s side. The air was driven from her, red-hot pain shooting through the woman’s body as the ends of her broken rib grated against one another.
“Here’s something for you to think about,” Flex growled through his mask. “Don’t you think it’s funny that Jack Morgan and Private keep turning up around the world just as shit is about to hit the fan? Look at London. Who was here to save the day at the Olympics? Who was here for Trooping the Color? It’s always that bastard Morgan. He sets these things up so that his company profits from them! Can you not see that?”
“All I see,” Lewis groaned, “is a fat boy with a man-crush. You should just get it over with and admit you want to fu—”
Flex’s boot drove the last words from her lungs as a wheeze.
“You stupid bitch! What money are you on as a copper? Thirty grand a year? Morgan is making millions a year! Millions! And he’s making it by having others die for him. You think this sack of shit on the floor is the first one who’s died to make Jack Morgan richer?”
“She died,” Lewis spat, “because you killed her!”
“She died because she was a disposable asset!” Flex shot back. “Disposable to Jack Morgan, so that he can continue to live his life of beach houses and private jets!”
“You jealous bastard,” Lewis laughed. “Is that all this is? You’re going to kill me because you want Morgan’s life?”
Flex told his accomplice to deliver another kick to Lewis’s broken ribs, but it did not stop Lewis from finishing. “No wonder you’re wearing that mask. Morgan is a good-looking bloke. I bet you’ve got a face like a cheese toastie.”
She laughed at her own insult. Then, to her surprise, she heard Flex join in.
“You really don’t think I’ll kill you, do you, copper?”
“I don’t think you’ve got the balls. Probably vanished from all that juice you’ve been doing.” She snorted, taking in the man’s steroid-inflated size. “You’re a coward. And a small man in all the ways that count.”
“A coward?” Flex laughed. “Well, maybe I am. But you don’t have to be a brave man to do this.”
Flex shoved the barrel of his gun inside Lewis’s mouth.
She tried to speak, but the words were muffled by the barrel and came out as an angry gurgle.
“I want you to know,” Flex said from above, “that you’re gonna die to make Jack Morgan richer. Think about that as your last thought.”
Flex laughed, and then he pulled the trigger.
Chapter 55
THE BUILDINGS OF London were a blur beneath the helicopter as it belted across the city, green parks just a flash as Morgan and Knight raced to Kensington, and to Sharon Lewis.
Morgan had been silent for the first two minutes of the flight, but now he pulled his phone and dialed into Private London’s HQ.
“Put me through to Hooligan,” he commanded the watch manager.