The Mortality Principle by Alex Archer Page A

security. He was going to have to rely on luck, and he hated relying on luck.
    Unless, of course, Garin held an ace up his sleeve. He wouldn’t put anything past the man.
    Morning was already fast approaching as he saw the runway lights of the Prague airport inviting the plane to touch down.
    By the time the aircraft had landed and Roux had dealt with the officious representatives of customs and border control and picked up a rental car, the sun would be rising. Once that happened he’d be helpless for twelve hours or so, the killer holed up in his den, safe from his vengeance.
    Roux knew he was going to need to get his hands on every last shred of evidence the cops had gathered, assuming they’d gathered anything. Given the nature of the victims, he didn’t harbor high hopes. He had tricked his way into more than one police station before, and the various degrees of disinterest to ineptitude never ceased to amaze him when it came to tracking down what seemed bizarre or unusual.
    Why should this time be any different?
    Who out there was remotely prepared for the possibility of someone like Roux himself even existing? Let alone anything beyond that? The real monsters of the world? Not a prayer.

11
    â€œWell, good morning, beautiful,” a voice said through the fog of her mind.
    The light hurt as Annja opened her eyes.
    She was lost.
    This wasn’t the alleyway.
    And she hurt. Everywhere. She had aches in places she didn’t know existed. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Not at first. A searing stab of pain lanced up under her shoulder blade, causing her face to twist in agony. It took a second or two for the pain to subside. When it finally did, she asked, “Where am I?”
    â€œHospital,” the voice said. “You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m not Saint Peter come to check you off my list, to see if you’ve been naughty or nice.”
    Garin.
    He sat in the chair beside her with a brown paper bag resting in his lap. The brown skeletal stems were all that remained of the grapes as he popped the last one into his mouth.
    â€œHow…?” she started to ask, but then remembered the stars as she fell to the ground.
    â€œTo be honest, everyone here is hoping that you’ll beable to tell them. It seems that you were found sprawled on a pile of boxes in someone’s backyard. I assume you haven’t taken to sleeping on the street, but I will admit, I have absolutely no idea how you managed to get there, or how you managed to sustain your injuries. Looking at the state you’re in—there are some really tasty bruises on your back for a start—I’d say you had a lucky escape.”
    She couldn’t argue with that.
    â€œSo, I’m thinking you fell from the roof, and yet managed miraculously to not break a single bone. The docs seem to think that it’s some kind of miracle. I just figure its par for the course with you.” He offered a wry smile.
    â€œHow did you know I was here?” Annja asked. She knew better than to try to ease herself up in the bed.
    â€œDo you really need to ask?” Garin made a telephone out of his thumb and little finger and held it up to his ear. “I’d like to pretend I tracked you down through cunning and brainpower, triangulating the signal, pinpointing it off various cell towers, then calling in a favor with the local law enforcement, but when you didn’t come down for breakfast I tried your cell phone. The nurses did the rest. It’s almost as if fate’s playing a hand, isn’t it? I arrive, you suddenly need me.”
    â€œI’m not sure I’d go so far as to blame fate. Stupidity, maybe, Czech plumbers, more like,” she said, but the pain in her head left her feeling pitiful. She’d screwed up big-time, but she was still in one piece, and to be honest she was glad he was there.
    â€œSo, are you going to tell me what you