Playing With Death Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Authors

  Also by Simon Scarrow

  Praise

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Chapter 0

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright © 2017 Simon Scarrow

  The right of Simon Scarrow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published in Great Britain in 2017 by

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  First published as an Ebook in Great Britain in 2017 by

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  Ebook conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire

  Cover design by Richard Jones @ The Picture Production Company; cover images © Shutterstock

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 1341 9

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  About the Authors

  Playing With Death is the first contemporary thriller from Simon Scarrow, long-established as an author of bestselling historical novels. His Eagles of the Empire books, including the Sunday Times bestsellers Centurion and Invictus, are legendary amongst readers of historical fiction. The fantastic acclaim from the press and readers alike both for the Eagles of the Empire novels and for Simon’s other fiction, from the Wellington and Napoleon Quartet to the powerful World War II thriller Hearts of Stone, confirms his extraordinary talent in every area of fiction he undertakes.

  Simon will continue to write the Eagles of the Empire novels while also developing further thrillers featuring FBI Special Agent Rose Blake with his co-writer Lee Francis.

  Prior to writing fiction Simon worked as a teacher and lecturer; he is now a full-time writer. He lives near Norwich.

  For exciting news, extracts and exclusive content from Simon, visit www.simonscarrow.co.uk, follow him on Twitter @SimonScarrow or like his author page on Facebook/OfficialSimonScarrow.

  Lee Francis worked for several years in the world of film, TV and advertising as a script reader and assistant director. Playing With Death, written with his former lecturer Simon Scarrow, is his first novel.

  By Simon Scarrow

  The Roman Empire Series

  The Britannia Campaign

  Under the Eagle (AD 42–43, Britannia)

  The Eagle’s Conquest (AD 43, Britannia)

  When the Eagle Hunts (AD 44, Britannia)

  The Eagle and the Wolves (AD 44, Britannia)

  The Eagle’s Prey (AD 44, Britannia)

  Rome and the Eastern Provinces

  The Eagle’s Prophecy (AD 45, Rome)

  The Eagle in the Sand (AD 46, Judaea)

  Centurion (AD 46, Syria)

  The Mediterranean

  The Gladiator (AD 48–49, Crete)

  The Legion (AD 49, Egypt)

  Praetorian (AD 51, Rome)

  The Return to Britannia

  The Blood Crows (AD 51, Britannia)

  Brothers in Blood (AD 51, Britannia)

  Britannia (AD 52, Britannia)

  Hispania

  Invictus (AD 54, Hispania)

  The Wellington and Napoleon Quartet

  Young Bloods

  The Generals

  Fire and Sword

  The Fields of Death

  Sword and Scimitar (Great Siege of Malta)

  Hearts of Stone (Second World War)

  The Gladiator Series

  Gladiator: Fight for Freedom

  Gladiator: Street Fighter

  Gladiator: Son of Spartacus

  Gladiator: Vengeance

  Writing with T.J. Andrews

  Arena (AD 41, Rome)

  Invader (AD 44, Britannia)

  Writing with Lee Francis

  Playing with Death

  Praise for Simon Scarrow’s bestselling fiction

  ‘Always a joy’ The Times

  ‘Gripping . . . ferocious and compelling’ Daily Express

  ‘Scarrow’s [novels] rank with the best’ Independent

  ‘An amazing roller-coaster of a ride . . . A cracking historical thriller’ Manda Scott

>   ‘Top stuff’ Daily Telegraph

  ‘This lively, absorbing novel will not disappoint’ The Sunday Times

  ‘Intrigue, treachery and violence . . . intense action, beguiling characters and authentic detail’ Publishers Weekly

  About the Book

  FBI Special Agent Rose Blake has faced evil and survived.

  Haunted by a failed undercover mission, Rose is finding it hard to shake the memories of her close encounter with a ruthless serial killer – one who is still free, and could strike again without warning.

  The call to investigate a suspected arson attack that’s left a man dead is a welcome distraction. It’s not the kind of case usually assigned to the FBI, but nothing about this crime is usual. As Rose digs deeper, she finds herself confronting the sort of imagination her son might see in the fantasy worlds of his video games.

  But when your opponent is a killer, nothing feels like a game . . .

  To Mum, Dad, Karl and Alex

  0.

  Rose Blake follows Shane Koenig’s blue pick-up truck along the dirt trail, up the slope towards a two-storey cabin. The brake lamps of Koenig’s truck burn red in the dark of the night. The cabin’s windows pierce the darkness with an inviting orange hue, and then the harsh glare of a security light sears the cold air as they park on the leaf-strewn gravel in front of the cabin. It is starting to rain, small drops pattering through the bare branches of the forest. Rose leaves her vehicle and follows Koenig up the porch steps. Tall black trees loom all around the cabin. A name plaque reads ‘Solace’. Koenig turns to look at her. He is handsome, in the rugged, dark-haired sense, wearing blue jeans, brown leather boots and a Tommy Hilfiger wool jacket over a red checked shirt.

  ‘My home away from home, huh? Pretty nice, isn’t it?’

  He unlocks the front door. Rose’s pulse quickens as he gestures for her to enter.

  ‘It sure is.’

  The built-in kitchen has gleaming beechwood panelling and shelving units, copper pots and pans hang on a wall, no expense spared. The cabin itself is a mix of stone brickwork and orange dyed wood. The kitchen is open plan, leading to the living room where there’s a fireplace with crumpled paper, kindling and small logs, ready to light. Koenig takes out a gas lighter, and soon there’s a crackle and hiss as the flames take and start to warm the room. Rose holds her hands out by the fire, feeling the warmth prickle her skin. Koenig crosses to a Bose wall-mounted sound system and presses play:

  Somethin’ about this night . . .

  Somethin’ is so right.

  You and me, babe. We’re connected . . .

  An unsettling choice, Rose thinks.

  He takes off his jacket and flashes her a smile. ‘Make yourself at home. You’ll find it’s a comfortable place. At least I think so.’

  ‘A bit lonely though.’

  ‘Not with the right company,’ he says, touching her cheek. His fingers send a jolt through her body. But not of sexual anticipation. It’s fear that Rose feels.

  ‘Nice to meet someone who looks like their profile picture for a change,’ he adds, his gaze running down her body.

  ‘In a good way, I hope?’ Rose feels her skin chilling under the pink cashmere sweater she is wearing on top of her pencil skirt.

  ‘You bet. Here, let me take your coat.’ Koenig slides the long brown garment from her shoulders, letting her arms slip free.

  Rose quickly shifts a short distance away from him and sits down on the soft beige sofa. She casts a glance at the cabin walls where framed photos of hunting expeditions hang. Shane Koenig is in every one of them, posed by the body of a deer, or some other game. At the back of the cabin is another door, and several hunting rifles are in a rack to one side. As her eyes look for more clues to his personality, she senses a faint tang of bleach in the air.

  The significance of the odour is not lost on Rose. It’s what she would expect a man like Koenig to use to cover his tracks. But she tries to keep calm. She knows Owen and the rest of the team are waiting nearby in a black surveillance van. There are others with them, armed and ready to move as soon as the word is given. Rose knows she cannot raise the alarm unless she is directly threatened or Koenig gives himself away. So far he has behaved like any normal man on a date.

  His behaviour has been too guarded, she realizes. As if he has been watching her, coolly weighing her up, before he makes his move. She feels an icy tingle at the base of her neck. Maybe he knows that she is not what she seems. He moves unhurriedly to the kitchen and takes some glasses from a cupboard. Two wine glasses and two tumblers. He glances over his shoulder. His lips lift in a smile, but his eyes are dead. ‘Cold night. Fancy a snifter?’

  ‘Sure. What have you got?’ Rose lets her hair fall forward in a nod. She wears her hair down to conceal the flesh-coloured two-way earpiece in her right ear.

  Koenig turns and stares for a moment. ‘You really are quite a looker. Bet there’s no end of guys on the site who’ve asked you out. Why choose me?’

  ‘Your profile was interesting. Not the usual generic crap. And you’ve got a good job, I guess.’

  ‘You guess . . .’

  For a second his expression is as dead as his eyes. Then he smiles again. ‘And what job would that be? I don’t believe I mentioned any details about what I do for a living.’

  Rose feels her pulse quicken in alarm as she makes herself reply in a casual tone. ‘Whatever it is, must be good enough to pay for all this. Your home away from home, as you call it.’

  ‘Yes.’ His eyes dart from side to side. ‘This place is more like my real home. It feels like I just live at the house in the city, where I work during the week. This is where I’m most comfortable. This place is more . . . me. If you see what I mean?’

  Rose nods at the hunting photos. ‘Sure I do.’

  Koenig laughs. ‘No. No, I really don’t think you know what I mean. We’ve only just met. Three hours ago, at the bar.’

  ‘But we’ve been talking for weeks online,’ says Rose. ‘I know you well enough to suggest we go on a date. I turn down most men. Way too many assholes on the site. You’re different. There was something about you I picked up on right away.’

  ‘Oh? What was that? What makes me different?’

  Rose pauses, as if considering, even though she’s rehearsed this many times with Owen and the team. She shrugs. ‘You know, none of the crap about being a genuine guy who’s the life and soul of the party, but sensitive and caring at the same time. You just cut through all that and talked straight. I kind of liked that.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Of course, it helped that you look hot in your profile picture.’

  ‘You’re not the first to say that.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Not by a long way. You think you’re the first person I’ve ever brought back to this place?’

  There’s an edge to his voice and Rose shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. She tries to lighten the mood. ‘Then maybe the others didn’t have as much to offer as I do.’

  ‘You think you’re special?’

  ‘That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?’ Rose lets her hand drop to her thigh and gently eases up the hem of her skirt.

  Koenig gazes at the dark curve of her knee and a frown crosses his face. He stands over Rose. He slowly reaches out a hand and runs his fingers through the fringe on the left side of her head. It takes all her self-control not to flinch beneath his touch.

  Not yet, Rose.

  She has to go by the book. There isn’t enough evidence to obtain a search warrant. Rose is their only chance to take Koenig down. If Koenig gives himself away and she calls in the troops then she must Mirandize him, otherwise any confession will be invalidated, along with subsequent ‘fruits of the poisonous tree’ – if the evidence is tainted, then any further evidence gained is tainted as well. S
o Koenig stands every chance of walking free. Free to continue killing.

  Rose looks past him and can see camera cases and tripods stacked near a desk down a narrow corridor leading to another room. Koenig leans towards her, trying for a kiss. He gives off an aroma of expensive aftershave. She puts her hand up and holds him back.

  ‘A drink first, surely?’

  He hesitates before smiling. ‘Classy lady. Right you are.’ He straightens up. ‘I got a small wine cellar out back. Red?’

  ‘Perfect,’ she says, crossing her legs.

  ‘Then warm yourself up by the fire. Won’t be long.’ Koenig slips into the back area of the cabin, through a doorway and out of sight.

  Rose whispers: ‘Owen? You getting all this?’

  ‘Sure. All good. I’ve got men in the trees around the house. We’ve got your back. Seen anything yet?’ Owen’s voice crackles in her ear.

  ‘Some hunting pictures, not much else. I’m going to take a look around.’

  ‘Be careful.’ Owen’s voice betrays his concern. She knows the risks she is taking, but she volunteered for this. It is her duty to hunt down killers. That is what Uncle Sam pays her to do, and she is good at her job.

  She eases herself up and paces into the kitchen area. There are some cupboards with concealed lighting illuminating the granite counter. A small door opens into a pantry. There’s an open padlock hanging on the latch . . . Why a padlocked pantry? She pushes the pantry door open. The room is long and narrow, lined with shelves. At the far end is a chest freezer. The items on the shelves are neatly arranged. Fastidiously. Tins to the right, separated into soups, vegetables and fruit. To the left are small pots of herbs, jars of preserves and tubs of flour, rice and pasta. There is a large ceramic sink by the freezer and a sturdy shelf on which lies a heavily scored wooden block. A cleaver gleams from a hook above. The smell of bleach is stronger than ever.

  The end of the pantry is in shadow, and over the middle of the room hangs a naked light bulb on a length of flex. Rose is tempted to turn on the light but it is too risky. She approaches the chest freezer, feeling the sweat on her hands as she reaches for the handle and gives it an upwards tug. There’s a slight resistance and then the lid rises freely. Even though there is not much light at this end of the pantry Rose can make out the contents easily enough. There are large tubs of ice cream at one end. The rest of the space is filled with plastic food bags, sealed with tape. Cuts of meat.