Page 118 of Ground Truth

Greta cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. Flint could tell she was wondering what she’d do if he didn’t return.

“Is it Ernst Hedinger? Did he come to kill me himself this time?” Greta whispered.

Flint wondered how much Greta knew about Hedinger’s involvement with her boating accident. Sounded like she had worked some of it out at some point.

“Look, Greta, you’re a smart woman. You escaped Hedinger once before.” She gulped but he kept talking. “You’ll do it again. This will be the last time.”

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“Because this time you’ve got me. Just stay in there and keep the door locked. Take care of Hanna. I’ll be back. I promise,” Flint said, even as he realized he was making promises he might not be alive to keep.

Greta stared at him a few moments more. Then she stepped back, closed the door softly, and threw the deadbolt.

Flint slumped against the wall. What the hell was he thinking, coming here without backup and bringing Hanna into this?

“Stupid question to be asking now, Flint,” he said.

On the way to collect his weapons, he gave himself a little pep talk. He tried to put some salt into the words, the way Scarlett would have done it if he’d had the good sense to bring her along.

“Hedinger followed you here. He’d have followed you here no matter when you came and whether you had backup or not. In fact, Greta’s a lot better off with you here than she would have been otherwise. So stop the ‘woe is me’ and get the damned job done.”

He collected the shotgun and the extra shells and checked his Glock and the extra magazine again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he replied like a surly teenager. “Okay, Hedinger. It’s gotta be you out there. You think no one can do the job as well as you can do it yourself. Let’s just test that theory, shall we?”

Flint went out the front door and once again flattened his back against the stone walls behind the trees that lined the front gardens.

The fog hadn’t lifted. Which was the good news. It meant Hedinger had to be not only within shooting distance but also close enough to see his targets.

Hedinger might have started out posted on that hill across the road and up in the trees.

Flint had noticed the spot on the drive in from Inverness and thought at the time that it would make a good place for a hunting stand. Hunting game. Not humans.

But Hedinger loved to hunt. He’d hunted big game around the world. He might have chosen that location initially. But circumstances had changed. He’d know exactly what to do under current conditions.

Flint was counting on it.

The rifle shot had come from the south side of the house. Close to where the man who had entered the kitchen was staked out earlier.

Which meant Hedinger had repositioned himself to be able to get a visual on Flint.

It was a good bet that they’d all made this plan together. With Hedinger having the final word.

Which was why he was the last of them still alive.

Hedinger was the kind of guy who sent good men to the cannons to preserve his own sorry ass.

Now Hedinger should simply pack up and go. He’d failed. He could withdraw and live to try again.

But of course Hedinger wouldn’t retreat. He was no doubt enraged by now.

He must know it was Flint who had breached his impenetrable fortress, destroyed his organ-selling business, and now killed two of his top soldiers.

By now Hedinger might also know that Flint had stolen his precious Stradivarius.

Whether he knew or not didn’t matter. Hedinger would stay to do the job himself. He’d need to be sure this time.

“Fine by me. Just means I won’t have to hunt you down later,” Flint mumbled.

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