Judgement and Wrath by Matt Hilton Page B

wound, but it obviously hadn’t been enough. It was a worry, but nothing that would stop him. Conversely, he’d been fortunate: If he’d been standing another few inches to the right, the gunman’s bullets would have found a more fatal target than his leg.
    Whoever that man had been, he couldn’t possibly have escaped the exploding building. Dantalion had heard him retreat into the bedroom just as he had brought flame to the lighter. There had been only seconds before detonation.
    No. The would-be assassin was as dead as everyone else in the house. He was already numbered in Dantalion’s book. Just below Bradley Jorgenson and Marianne Dean. The numbers never lied.
    Still, he looked for a place to turn, and then spun the vehicle around and pushed the truck after the Porsche. The man had the eyes of a killer. Even if he happened to be an unfortunate doppelgänger, Dantalion had to find out. Perhaps he’d even have to kill the man.
    Almost a mile later, Dantalion drove by the main entrance to the Jorgenson estate. He was intent on catching up with the Porsche and almost missed the vehicle parked outside the entrance gate. The two from the Porsche were talking to some of Jorgenson’s security men who were standing on the far side. He only got a fleeting glance and couldn’t be sure if it was the same man from yesterday. He had his back to Dantalion and his clothing was different. One thing he did notice though; Dantalion recognised one of the security men. The one with the brush cut. He’d been one of the men with Petre Jorgenson yesterday. One of those who’d feigned interest in the statue of Christopher Columbus at Bayside Park in Miami.
    Doing the math in his head, there was only one answer. Brush Cut had been with Petre. His client had asked him to kill Bradley and Marianne Dean. A mystery man had turned up, almost killing Dantalion. A mystery man who bore more than a passing resemblance to the hired killer who was now talking to Brush Cut. Ergo, Dantalion had definitely been set up to die by Petre.
    He turned the truck round.
    Sped back northward.
    He pressed the button to lower the window. Pulled free his Beretta, hanging it out of the window.
    It didn’t take a talented assassin to drive by a victim, poke a gun out of a window and shoot a man dead as he stepped down from his front porch. Any half-assed idiot with a gun could do that. Dantalion murdered in a fashion that was more thoughtful than that, planned to create impact. But every now and again a good old drive-by shooting was just what was required.
    He slowed down and held the gun steady against the window ledge.
    But he was too late.
    The Porsche was already inside the compound, following a silver sedan. Other men were climbing into a second silver sedan. One of them was Brush Cut. A single guard was standing next to a control box, and the gate was swinging shut. Dantalion pulled the Beretta back inside, just as the guard glanced his way. Dantalion gave the man a nod, a tourist enjoying the drive. The guard didn’t even notice.
    Opportunities like that one didn’t present themselves too often. He’d missed it. But this evening he’d make his own opportunities and this time he would not miss.
     

17

    ‘Who are you?’
    The same question kept being asked of me. I suppose this time I owed more explanation than simply giving my name and that I was there to help. Marianne deserved as much.
    ‘My name is Joe Hunter.’
    ‘So you weren’t lying.’ I didn’t quite catch her meaning, and she went on. ‘Yesterday when you introduced yourself, you told me you were called Joe.’
    ‘I wasn’t lying about the rest, either.’
    ‘That you were there to help?’
    We were in a room adjacent to the library. Rink was keeping Bradley, Seagram and the third man company. I only hoped his surliness didn’t provoke a confrontation before I could reassure Marianne of our good intentions.
    She’d changed since I saw her last.
    She had on black trousers and