Judgement and Wrath by Matt Hilton Page A

love her. If that’s the case, you will want Marianne to be protected. Seems to me that we’re on the same agenda.’
    ‘We don’t need you,’ Seagram said from the far side of the room.
    ‘You don’t?’
    Jorgenson said, ‘I trust my staff to protect us.’
    ‘You shouldn’t. They opened the gate to men who they know nothing about, allowed us to carry guns inside. We parked a car outside that could be packed with Semtex for all they knew.’
    Jorgenson nodded along with my reasoning. But then his finger came up and wagged in my direction. ‘But that was after I’d viewed you on the security system. I recognised you. Like you said earlier, if you were going to kill me, you’d have done so by now.’
    ‘Fair enough.’
    ‘I take it you have some kind of offer in mind?’
    ‘Not interested in working for you, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
    Jorgenson shrugged. He acknowledged Seagram. ‘I’m happy with who I have already.’
    ‘But I do want to speak to Marianne. If she wants us, then we will work for her.’
    ‘And if I don’t allow that?’
    ‘Then we’re going to have a problem.’
     

16

    Back in his truck, Dantalion headed north. Following the boundary wall of the estate, he scouted out other entry points should his first plan fail. The wall was twelve feet tall in most places. Nothing as obvious as razor wire had been installed, but he had the feeling that pressure pads would be laid along the top and numerous more sown inside the perimeter. They could prove a problem, but not insurmountable to someone with his skills. The CCTV cameras weren’t too much of a concern either. A well-aimed shot would put a camera out of commission. A system with so many cameras would be prone to occasional malfunction; by the time a maintenance crew had come out to investigate, he’d have been in and out again, his business done.
    He had more to worry about than cameras and pressure pads. He could hear distant barking. The estate was guarded by patrol dogs. It would take a master magician to spirit himself in and out of an enemy stronghold where trained attack dogs were running loose. Sometimes he wished his assumed identity came with all the trappings of the original Dantalion. Dark angels have nothing to fear from dogs. Being a mere mortal still, he’d have to come up with a contingency.
    He took out his BlackBerry, checked for messages. Nothing new. Just the same old message from his associate about the non-arrival of his fee. One hand on the wheel, he thumbed in a request, then sent the email spinning through cyberspace.
    Eyes off the road for a split second, he almost missed the occupants of the car passing him on the other side of the road. However, something subliminal grabbed at his mind, made him glance at the Porsche Boxster in a moment’s admiration for the vehicle. The small, sleek beauty was the black of glistening tar. The driver was of no concern; he was a muscular brute with straight black hair and tawny skin. There was a livid scar across his chin that was as white as Dantalion’s entire body. No, it was the passenger who caught his attention.
    He wasn’t as big as the driver, rangy of build rather than muscular, with the broad shoulders of a swimmer or gymnast. His short brown hair had only the faintest hint of grey at the temples. It was the kind of face that could blend in with a crowd, but the intensity of his eyes would set him apart. Women would love those eyes, men would fear them.
    Dantalion cursed under his breath.
    The gunman from last night.
    ‘How the fuck did you survive that explosion?’
    But then the Porsche was by him and he was left wondering if perhaps he’d been wrong. He hadn’t got a good look; maybe the man in the passenger seat merely bore a passing resemblance to the man who’d almost killed him.
    His hand crept to his thigh. The bullet wound was a constant ache radiating through the entire muscle, up his hip to his spine. He’d cleaned and dressed the