Page 101 of Savage Redemption

“What time’s the big race?”

“Goes at three-fifteen. It’s over four furlongs, so at around twelve seconds a furlong?—”

“You have this all worked out.”

His lip quirks. “To the second. I’ve given it a lot of thought. He’ll be in the winners’ enclosure, so we need to be in position at the start of the race and move in close after thirty seconds. We hit him when they reach the home straight.”

“We?” I’m not sure I like the sound of that. “What about that shoulder? And you’re well known on Tenerife. You could too easily be recognised.”

His eyes narrow. “I need to do this.”

“Not as much as you need him to be dead. Trust me, it’s better if I do the deed.”

“Not a chance!”

Hehasto listen. “Think about this, Baz. It only needs one person to spot you and raise the alarm…”

“I can?—”

“No. We’ll do this your way, at the racecourse, but ithasto be me. You deal with the logistics, get us onto the island without anyone knowing, make sure we have a car ready for the getaway, draw me a map of the course and acquire a pass for me to get into the winners’ enclosure. But you stay out of sight. Right?”

He glares at me. I can see his indecision. He’s wrestling with the dilemma, but in his heart he knows I’m right. He might not like it, but the success of the mission is paramount. Eventually, the strategist wins out. He mutters something obscene in Polish.

“Okay, we do it your way.” He downs the remainder of his beer and pulls out his phone. “We need a fast motor launch, and a hire car.”

I tug at my collar. It’s not exactly comfortable wearing a smart business suit in thirty degrees of heat, but Baz insists that’s the correct attire for a race day. It’s vital I don’t stand out, for any reason.

Baz has acquired us a van. A battered old vehicle with the name of a local bakery emblazoned on the side. Despite the unprepossessing exterior, I’m assured that under the bonnet is pure dynamite. It cost us a small fortune, to hire the transport and pay the owner to disappear to mainland Spain for a few days.

“A van?” I observe, peering suspiciously at it.

“I’ll ride in the back, out of sight. You drive, and park in front of the HyperDino Express.”

I recognise the name of the Spanish supermarket chain. “Where is it?”

“A couple of hundred yards from the racecourse entrance. It’ll be busy at that time in an afternoon, easy to melt into the crowd. I’ll be in the back and keep in touch with you via this.” He hands me a wire. “We keep communications to a minimum, but I need to know when you’re on your way out. I’ll be right outside the gates.”

I tuck the wire inside my shirt and test the reception.

“Okay,” Baz continues, “and I thought again about the weapon of choice.”

“I have that,” I assure him, the sharpened stiletto safely tucked in my waistband.

“Use this.” He produces a syringe, the needle covered with a plastic shield.

“I’m not sure…” I prefer the tried-and-tested knife between the ribs.

“Think about it. If he collapses in a pool of blood, it’ll be obvious at once what’s happened. His guards may be dim, but not that dim. First thing they’ll do, if they have any sense, is seal the perimeter. You could be trapped.”

He has a point. “Where did you get this?”

“A contact of mine. A vet. He also let me have a slug of ketamine, enough to fell a horse. Which is what it’s meant for, in fact. Doesn’t matter where you stick him, just make sure you depress the plunger fully then make yourself scarce. Don’t hang around to watch him go down. It’ll take a few seconds, and you need to be well away.”

I can well see how Baz rose from nothing to be Kaminski’s underboss and retained that position for over a dozen years. The man thinks of everything. I take the syringe and examine it. It’s not loaded. “Where’s the ketamine?”

“Here.” He hands me a phial of colourless liquid. “Don’t load it until you’re actually at the racecourse, but not inside. We don’t need any sharp-eyed guard clocking you. And I don’t have to tell you to be careful, do I? I’d hate for you to have an unfortunate mishap.”

“Not as much as I would. Right.” I check my watch. “Just turned one o’clock. How long will it take to get to the location?”

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