Outsider

Book 3: The Ryker Returns Thrillers

by Rob Sinclair

Genres: International Crime & Mystery; Spy Thrillers

Synopsis

James Ryker stumbles into a chilling conspiracy in a small Norwegian town . . .
Travelling through frozen north Norway, Ryker isn't looking for trouble, but he has a habit of finding it. After a near miss on the road with a young moped driver, a local policeman assists the teenager and encourages Ryker on his way. But when Ryker travels to the nearby small town of Blodstein—only to be warded off by the locals when he asks questions about the boy he nearly killed—his instincts as a longtime intelligence agent fire. Ryker is determined to find out who the boy is, and where he has gone, but soon finds himself pulling at the edges of a conspiracy that threatens to erupt with blood and violence. Unless he can determine the truth and put an end to it all. But as the outsider, is there anyone he can trust?
““A real page-turner, impossible to put down.” —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

Release date: December 6, 2021

Publisher: Bloodhound Books

Print pages: 342

Sample

1
PRAGUE, CZECHIA

Sunrise remained over an hour away, though the glow of
street lights, seeping in through a gap between the thin
curtains, softly lit the bedroom in the cramped apartment.
James Ryker’s eyes were open, his gaze resting on the slender shape of the figure next to him. She was asleep, breathing lightly, her loose dark hair draped over her bare shoulders.
Ryker rose from the mattress, being careful not to pull the
tussled duvet from her naked body. No need to rouse her.
In the grip of winter, the heating in the apartment was
adequate but the space was hardly toasty. Away from the
warmth of the bed, Ryker’s skin prickled as he edged over to the window. He pulled the curtains a little further apart and peered to the street below. On the second floor of the five-story building, he hardly had a glorious view of the city here – simply the walls and windows of the other blocks that surrounded this one. It wasn’t a scenic view Ryker was interested in. He was interested in the street. The people in it. The vehicles. A near subconscious habit.
He studied the few pedestrians and parked cars. Nothing to
worry about there.
As quietly as he could, Ryker pulled on his clothes. He went
to the bathroom, closed the door, then turned on the light. He glanced at himself in the mirror. No doubt he looked as fresh this morning as he had done most mornings these last few weeks. He’d enjoyed his time here. With her. He was sure he’d enjoy many more mornings, afternoons, evenings here – if he stayed.
He wouldn’t.
He turned off the bathroom light then stepped back into the
bedroom. He moved over to the bed. She hadn’t stirred. Her eyes remained closed. He picked up his bag and turned for the door.
‘You’d really leave without saying goodbye?’
He paused. Closed his eyes for a beat, then opened them
again as he turned to face her. She shuffled up a little in the bed and pulled the duvet higher, above her chest, clutching the soft, warm fabric like a comforter.
‘You were sleeping,’ he said.
They held each other’s gaze for a few moments and the
silence grew increasingly taut and uncomfortable. For Ryker at least. The look on her face, in the poorly lit room, was hard to gauge. Disappointment? Anger? A little bit of both, he thought, and both were understandable.
‘Is this really it?’ she asked.
‘You knew I wouldn’t stay forever.’
‘You don’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘That’s not really the point.’
‘Then what is the point?’
He couldn’t explain. Not even to himself, so certainly not
to her.
The easiest explanation was that he was leaving in order to
protect her – not an untruth, exactly – but stating his reasons so simply would only open up far too many further questions.
Questions he wouldn’t give her an answer to. She wasn’t the first person he’d left under such circumstances. Likely she wouldn’t be the last.
The problem? Ryker’s past. For nearly twenty years, carrying out his government’s dirty work, travelling the globe, fulfilling their secretive and shady orders, Ryker had built far more enemies than friends. Enemies who remained a threat as long as he still breathed.
He was sure he’d left that life behind him for good now, but
he’d never truly settle. He’d initially started this nomadic life to protect his good friend, Sam Moreno, after heat from his past had nearly seen her killed. Before her lay a string of similarly fateful ends, the painful memories of which clawed at his troubled mind daily.
If he stayed in Prague, how long before Simona, too, became embroiled in his dark past?
Yet that wasn’t the full or only explanation for him needing
to leave. Another factor was that the longer he stayed, the more he’d fall for her. Even after his troubled life, Ryker was more than capable of love, but he’d do all that he could to avoid it.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said.
He moved over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed
and put his hand on hers. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
‘I’ll miss you too.’
As he pulled back he held her eye again. But not for long. He had nothing left to say. No point in prolonging the difficult
moment.
Ryker got up from the bed, and headed for the door.

 

2
BLODSTEIN, NORWAY

The blasting wind pelted Sigurd Berg’s already weathered
face with sleety rain. His cheeks stung. His lips were
chafed raw. His nose streamed. He was sure he’d look like some fucking dumb caricature of Rudolph.
Of all the nights to be doing this...
With a constant grating, scraping noise, he scrabbled and
heaved the barrel across the tarmac. Not rolled. He couldn’t
afford to put the thing on its side and risk the lid popping open and the contents spilling out. The edge of the dock was ten yards away. Beyond it, the inky salt water rippled under the dim light of the moon that was throttled by dark clouds. Berg shivered as he looked out.
Lifeless.
He heaved again and the barrel moved all of a few inches. He was out of breath, his heart pounded his ribs. But this would all be over with soon enough. The first barrel was already on board.
Berg took a breath and grit his teeth and pushed with more
effort still. Finally some momentum. In a single burst of
strength and energy and endeavour the barrel shifted a few feet, then a few more. Finally the end was in sight.
He froze when he heard a car engine. Nearby. The fact the
sound had cut through the howling wind confirmed it was close.
He whipped his head around. He’d left on a single light in the
factory, in the office area. From out here the inner illumination was only faintly visible through the sporadic, grimy translucent panels in the warehouse roof.
Berg glanced from beyond the factory to the road. Sure
enough, two bright headlight beams bounced into view as
the vehicle came over the hump toward the entrance to the
yard.
He groaned, took his hands from the barrel and strode away.
At least the wind was behind him now, pushing him forward
with vigour.
He reached the side door to the warehouse area as the car
came to a pause at the closed gates. With the glare of the
headlights he had no clue who was behind the wheel. He
slipped inside and closed the door behind him then stared
across the space. The office was in the opposite corner. Why hadn’t he turned the light off after he’d pushed the last barrel outside?
He heard a car door open then close. A clunk as the outer
gates opened. Berg rushed over and into the office, and slid in behind his desk.
Shit. Hat. Gloves. Coat. Berg stripped them all off quickly
and stuffed them under the desk then fired up his computer and stared at the screen just as the figure came into view in the open doorway.
He jumped theatrically.
‘Marius! What the hell?’
Marius was one of two warehouse managers. Berg’s
employee, technically.
‘What’s going on?’ Marius said, his suspicion clear, even if he was speaking to his boss.
Berg got to his feet, narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you doing
here? At this time of night?’
That was the way to do it. Push back. Make him feel
uncomfortable.
Marius looked a little taken aback. ‘I was... I was passing by. I thought I saw a light on. I did warn you about security. You
know–’
‘Yes, I know. Rosen Tech’s factory was broken into last
month. Thank you.’
Rosen Tech’s sleek new factory was a little over half a mile
from here. A huge, space-age structure that had cost hundreds of millions of kroner. Berg remained dubious as to how his lifelong peer – essentially competitor – Erik Rosen had found the investment for that. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t smiled broadly when he’d heard the place had been ransacked one night. Vandals, who’d destroyed millions’ worth of equipment.
Why? Who knew.
Berg didn’t want to know.
‘Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,’
Marius said.
‘It is. I’m just getting some details ready for the audit.’
Berg glanced at his watch. Quarter past two. He wanted to
ask Marius where the hell he’d been until this time of night, but mostly he just wanted the guy to get lost.
‘You’re sure everything is okay?’ Marius asked. ‘You look...’
For some reason he didn’t finish the sentence.
‘I’m nearly done,’ Berg said. ‘You should get home. Doesn’t
your shift start at eight?’
Marius said nothing as he continued to stare. Then he
nodded and looked back over to the main warehouse area.
‘See you tomorrow then?’ he said as he briefly glanced back.
‘Yeah.’
He moved away. Berg craned his neck to follow his
movement. Marius paused as he looked across the warehouse floor. What had he seen?
Berg’s heart thudded in his chest even more quickly now
than when he’d been outside. Had he made a mistake? He’d
tried his best to clean up, but...
He looked across the office space. Weapon... weapon... there must be something.
Just outside the office. A wrench.
He got to his feet. Marius looked back over to him again.
Seriously unimpressed about something...
But then he simply turned and walked for the exit.
Berg remained where he was. Didn’t move a muscle. Not
until he heard the car door. Then the engine. Then the gates.
Open. Close. Engine fading.
Seconds later all he could hear was the wind and rain
outside, and his erratic heartbeat.
He exhaled then took a few seconds to get his breathing
under control before he strode out to the warehouse floor. He looked left, right, up, down.
No. Nothing there. Nothing suspicious at least.
But time was getting away from him. He had to get this done.
He grabbed his hat, gloves and coat, put them all back on,
then moved out into the bitter night once more. He glanced
toward the gates. No one there now.
Unless Marius had sneaked around the corner or
something? But why would he do that?
Berg put those silly thoughts to the side. Back to work. He
fought against the wind and rain to reach the barrel. The
weather seemed even worse now than before.
With renewed strength, he shoved the barrel the rest of the
way, then as delicately as he could – which wasn’t very delicate at all – he pushed the barrel over the edge and onto the deck of the boat. A thunderous thud echoed as the barrel smacked
down, and the ship wobbled side to side. He jumped down
beside the barrel and made sure it stayed upright. It did. Not a very delicate way to get the barrels on board, but the boat would be fine – it’d seen worse treatment than this out in the beastly North Sea.
He sighed in relief. Now that he, the barrels and their
contents were all on board, tonight’s journey would be a cinch.
Minutes later the engine chugged as the boat pushed away
from the dock, and out into the infinite blackness. He didn’t
need to go far. Just far enough for the barrels to be well under, and out of sight forever.
He was less than two miles from shore when he turned off
the engine and the boat slowed, rocking up and down on the
choppy waves. Not the stormiest of nights, but still it would
make the task of hauling the barrels over the edge that little bit more difficult.
Berg got to work. The first barrel went over the edge with
relative ease. The second was harder – after all, its contents were that bit more weighty than the first. As he shoved and heaved and lifted, Berg imagined the top of the barrel peeling away. The contents spilling all over him and the ship’s deck. The thought was enough to cause his stomach to turn over. Not helped by the constantly swaying craft he was standing on.
Finally, with a huge splash that sent a rush of freezing salt
water all over him, the second barrel was in the sea, glugging out of sight, and on its way to the bottom.
Berg didn’t move from the spot for a couple of minutes as he
stared at the water. Quite why, he wasn’t sure. Partly because he was waiting to see if either of the barrels would resurface. But how could they, with the weight inside? The other reason was because his mind was racing with calamitous thoughts, not least his imaginings of what other horrors lay down there at the bottom of the sea. This surely wasn’t the first time someone had made a trip out here like this.
It was his first. He prayed it’d be the last.
Morose thoughts taking over, he slunk back inside the cabin
and got the boat moving back to shore.

Four am had come and gone by the time Berg arrived home.
He’d be up again at seven. In the bedroom, he stripped off and
slipped into bed. His skin was ice cold all over. He didn’t move
over to Isabell. She was sleeping soundly and his coldness
would surely disturb her.
No luck. He’d already managed to do that somehow. She
groaned and sighed and turned over to face him.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked with her eyes still closed.
‘Sorry,’ was all he said to that.
He reached out and took her hand. She flinched a little but
then wrapped her fingers around his.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. Of course.’
His voice had sounded sincere enough. He just hoped the
darkness in the room helped to mask the lie.