The Piper's Promise: The Ridge Walker Series, #3

By ALEX BRECK

‘A real page-turner, it keeps you guessing the outcome 'till the very end.’

When his best friend Thad is arrested for a series of murders he didn’t commit on the wrong side of the planet, the young Scottish adventurer, Ridge Walker, must find the real killer in order to prove his innocence. But as Ridge crosses swords with a merciless adversary and the savage ethos of centuries of warrior culture, the death toll speeds up and the seemingly random slayings take on a laser-sharp accuracy slicing ever closer to those he loves.

Two worlds collide in this race against time. As he sinks deeper into the macabre quagmire of a sick and vengeful mind he begins to realise the full horror that awaits him.

They say ‘the apple never falls far from the tree’ and it’s going to be a bitter harvest this season.

***

WHAT OTHERS HAVE SAID ABOUT ALEX BRECK:

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

‘Highly recommend to pretty much anyone and everyone who loves a good read!’

‘More than a story, I recommend this book to readers who appreciate good writing. I am truly impressed and hope to see more books by Alex Breck.’

‘A moving, gripping and at times disturbing thriller with the rich  scene setting we have come to expect from Alex Breck.’

THE PIPER’S LAMENT

‘Another gripping adventure for Ridge Walker, this book doesn't disappoint!

Well-rounded characters, old and new, exciting storyline, all told with a touch of grim humour. Buy it!’

HE WHO PAYS THE PIPER

‘A darkly comic romp from Scotland right through Central America. Fast paced action and some great incidents along the way to a surprise ending - looking forward to seeing what Ridge gets up to next!’

‘Fast paced with good characterisation... I genuinely wanted to find out what would happen next... happy to recommend’

Wendy H. Jones, author of the DI Shona McKenzie mysteries

If you like

Passenger 19 or Play Dead or The Missing Ones

then you’ll love Alex Breck!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seilachan Fort
• Release date: May 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9780993388729

Book preview

Alex Breck

Seilachan Fort

Published by Seilachan Fort

Copyright © Alex Breck 2017

www.alexbreckbooks.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, including photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9933887-2-9

For Denise and for a promise made

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep"

Robert Frost

Chapter 1

The killer gripped more tightly around her neck, to afford greater leverage. He felt vaguely ridiculous, guessing that he must look like an amateur actor from across town at Kabuki-za.  It’s true what they say, he thought ruefully. A dead weight for some strange reason is far more awkward to lift or manoeuvre. For normal people, a part of the problem might have to do with their respect for the fact that this piece of inanimate flesh had once been a living soul, perhaps someone they had been well acquainted with or even in love with.

He’d not yet experienced true romantic love, not even with this girl. She had been beautiful and vibrant but she’d never have made an appropriate life partner or anything resembling that. A Westerner, she’d none of the innate class of his own race. She’d never have made the grade as a geisha. Too sloppy. Too loose. And right now, even after she’d breathed her last tortured gasp, her sweat soaked body seemed determined to fight him every inch of the way across this teak laminated floor. Her long-limbed and lissom frame had flopped grotesquely like some bizarre doll each time he’d clumsily altered his posture to lift her, becoming increasingly more cumbersome and heavy with every minute. Until he’d decided to simply blank out the fact that she’d ever been a human being or even his lover of seven weeks. Once he’d crossed that line, then he could just haul her across the apartment floor by the neck as you would pull the lead of a recalcitrant dog.

The killer considered her lifeless corpse. He had liked her and felt genuine sadness that she had died. Died by his hand; both hands to be precise. He liked to be precise. He liked to live by certain standards, an exacting set of rules that seemed to be out of fashion with the modern world. He wished that Japan could go back to the old ways, to a more traditional era, a time of respect and honour. There had been no honour with this girl. Although he felt sorry that she was dead, he knew there would be plenty others willing to take her place, disposable toys for his pleasure and entertainment. To him, they were not real. The real world that he inhabited allowed him little time for his recreational pastimes. There would be some who might argue that his world owed much of its power and influence to the unreal facade it portrayed to others but to him, it would only ever be work. He glanced at his watch. The real world called upon him right now. He grunted in annoyance and dropped the girl by the French windows, the back of her head clunking loudly on the hard floor. Within five minutes he had entered the elevator, freshly showered and changed, and any last vestiges of the girl’s scent had vanished like cigarette smoke in the breeze.

Chapter 2

Looking considerably more confident than he felt, Thaddeus Le Grange tossed back his luxuriant mane of jet black hair and stuck his jaw out. He dropped the girl’s delicately boned hand and punched the air. ‘Taxi! Yay! We got one look!’ He saw the red light turn green as the car slowed to a halt and he stepped out into the busy traffic. It seemed even in the fashionable Ginza district people liked to get an early start.

In Thad’s case, however, it had been more of a late finish and he thanked his international parentage as not for the first time, his Amerasian complexion worked miracles to camouflage the worst effects of another debauched Tokyo night. This is my kinda town, he thought and exchanged brave smiles with his beautiful but vaguely ill-looking taxi companion. It wasn’t so bad for her; she would soon be safely tucked up in bed, whereas he was headed for a full morning on the catwalk. Their evening had begun what felt like days before at an exclusive fashion party at Hinode Pier on the futuristic Jicoo Floating Bar where they’d danced their way around Tokyo Bay and then he remembered being enveloped in the warm embrace of the Womb over in Shibuya but then things had become a little hazy after that. He ducked his head and folded his six foot three frame into the taxi nearly taking his eye out on the horns of the cutest devil he’d ever seen.

‘You’re always laughing Thad! What’s so funny now?’ The girl pretended to scowl at him, but there were few women or men who could resist his twinkling eyes and infectious grin. He pointed at her head.

‘The wig? Oh! Yes, I totally forgot I stole this!’

Nea pulled at her auburn bob for a moment and the wig slipped off to reveal the shorter fuzz of her naturally ice-blonde hair. All of a sudden her deathly pale pallor became transformed into the haughty luminescent beauty of the classic Scandinavian. Although Nea detested being labelled as such. I am Finnish she would declare proudly. Enmeshed in the tangle of fake hair was a flashing red devil horn purloined, if Thad remembered correctly, from a handsome bare-chested matador.

The girl often reminded him of his old pal Ridge Walker, whom he’d not seen for a year or two now and to whose daughter Thad was godfather. Ridge and he had survived some incredible and dangerous adventures all around the world, but everywhere they went, Ridge would get unreasonably annoyed when people assumed he was English. ‘Fuck off!’ he would say. ‘I’m not English, or British. I’m a Scot, and bloody proud of it!’ Thad hadn’t heard from him in ages, despite texting him a couple of times over the last few months since he landed this dream modelling job in Tokyo. They’d both been devastated by the death of their hero, David Bowie, and a long night of tequila-fuelled singing of songs had been scheduled as soon as they could get together. But that had been more than a year ago. He’d repeatedly invited Ridge over at his expense as the only thing wrong with this exciting and chaotic town was the fact that Ridge wasn’t there. If anyone liked to party it was his mad Scottish pal and he couldn’t wait to see him belt out an old classic like Starman in one of Tokyo’s famous karaoke bars. He smiled as he decided that even this washed-out fellow passenger would look positively ruddy next to the pasty-faced party-mad Scot.

Thad lowered his head to look out at the frantic neon melee and saw that he mustn’t be far from the studio. His contract ran out in only a few weeks and then perhaps he could stop off in Scotland on his way back to the States. He’d still never been there and now Ridge and Orla had a baby son, Alexander. He’d always threatened to wear an authentic Scottish kilt and so maybe he could ask Ridge to arrange that for him. The taxi braked sharply and Thad caught the girl gently as her slight frame became momentarily airborne and they embraced clumsily before he jumped out into the warm and airless Tokyo morning.

Standing a full head above the other pedestrians he waved goodbye to Nea who he figured would be asleep on the back seat within minutes. He liked her a lot, but she hadn’t even hit her twenties yet and he’d felt more like a big brother to her rather than a lover. He hadn’t been short of lovers of either gender since arriving in Tokyo, but there would be times like last night where he just liked to hang out with a friend. They both knew they made an unusual couple, his tall, broad frame and dark features and Nea being blonde and petite like a Tinkerbelle to his black Gulliver.

Unlike most other models Thad had a healthy appetite for food as well as for parties and so he took a swift turn back onto the street as he felt his stomach complaining. He needed some real food to keep him going, not a few calorie-counted canapés. He had a half-day modelling shoot followed by a gruelling two-hour martial arts class before he could next sit down again.

Chapter 3

It was the damn birds that had wakened him up as per usual, but now in an unbeatable double-act, the insistent sunlight seeped through his eyelids to ensure there would be little point in trying to get back to sleep. Ridge inched a hand across the mattress to find the rest of the bed empty and cold. Orla must be up with the baby. He sat up bleary eyed and cocked his head to one side so as to listen better, having recently discovered he had become deaf in one ear courtesy of an exploding grenade a couple of years previously. Ah, there she is, he smiled as the sounds of a soft Irish voice sang gently up to him through the small cottage. Little Alex hadn’t been sleeping so well and the pair of them had been taking turns to see to him at night. But the night was a commodity in ever diminishing supply here on their beautiful Scottish island. Already past Easter, the sun rose earlier every day and despite being perpetually dog-tired and occasionally tetchy, Ridge knew that the advancing seasons suited him just fine. They’d had an awful few months and their wee gurgling baby had been a godsend for the entire family. 

He jumped out of bed and stretched, bumping his hands on the low bedroom ceiling as he continued to do almost every morning, despite their having moved into their new home almost a year ago. He dropped back onto the wooden floor and lay prone for a brief moment, the tip of his nose gently pressing into the thin gap between two floorboards. He admired the fine handiwork of his freshly sanded and varnished masterpiece as he always did at this stage of his day. It’s more a case of procrastination as opposed to pride he thought, before squeezing the muscles of his strong back and pushing upwards. Seventy-five push-ups later he rolled over onto his back, light-headed and wheezing but satisfied. The elusive hundred would soon be in the bag. Thaddeus would be proud of him these days he decided.

Throwing his boxer shorts in the basket he bounded downstairs to find Orla gently crooning to their little son in the cosy kitchen. He felt her eyes examine him up and down then waited for her to shriek like she always did.

‘Jaysus! Will you put some clothes on!

What’ll the neighbours say?

And just tell me exactly when you’re after fixing up those bleedin’ blinds?

Ridge laughed and almost managed to avoid her well-aimed hand before feeling the stinging rebuke across his right buttock. She would always be faster than him and no matter how much stronger he’d become over the last year, he knew Orla would always beat him in a fight.

But he hoped her fighting days were over. They’d battled hard together and at times he hadn’t even known if they had been on the same side. Ridge allowed the freezing shower to play across his shoulders for a second longer than the previous morning before turning the dial and relaxing his body under the welcoming stream of hot water. Despite being chased halfway across the world by a murderous cabal of gangsters, government agents, terrorists and assassins, they had prevailed against the odds. Hidden away in a drawer somewhere in this cottage they even had medals from the President of the United States in appreciation of their bravery.

Yet the spectre of almost certain death that they thought they’d successfully out-run had finally tracked them down to the supposed sanctuary of this sleepy island. After everything they’d been through and all the precautions they’d taken, it had slyly side-stepped them altogether, sniffing out an easier prey. Ridge switched off the shower and shivered, not just from the icy draught he felt across his skin. It had only been a handful of weeks since Ridge had dropped a handful of earth on his father’s coffin. They’d had no warning. His old man had been struck down by a massive heart attack which killed him just as surely as a bullet out of the blue sky on a bright morning just like today.

Chapter 4

Nea stared out unseeing across the Tokyo skyline. A constantly changing technological miasma she’d once laughingly described as a ‘retro-futurist aquarium.’ Tonight it felt as alien as the CGI manipulations of some dystopian sci-fi movie, complete with its own unique brand of vicious monster. She’d stopped laughing. Shocked at how easily she’d been caught completely off guard, she wondered if she would ever laugh again.

Despite living in a capital city all her young life and having travelled through many of the world’s most famous cities, she’d never encountered any issues regarding her personal safety. The low crime rate in Helsinki, like most of Finland, had been much publicized for years and five thousand miles away in Tokyo she’d often forgotten to double-lock her apartment door to Thad’s great annoyance.

But it had been this misjudged feeling of safety in Tokyo that had prompted her to take her first longer term modelling contract in the first place. Previously, she’d be in and out of jobs and always on the move, making brief but valued trips back home to her parent’s house in Toolonlahti Bay where she’d famously been ‘discovered’ serving tables in one of the outdoor cafes as a schoolgirl.

Living here in the Japanese capital, despite the seemingly endless sprawl of the vast city, hadn’t felt as challenging to Nea as say Los Angeles or even Paris. Helsinki and Tokyo both shared a reputation for being high tech and ridiculously expensive and while she’d have to accept this as fact she’d also tell people that back in Helsinki, you can see the forests from almost anywhere in the city and apart from her home city she’d never found another with parks to match Tokyo. Nor for honesty either; it had been only a few weeks ago that a tiny Japanese man had chased furiously after her as she jogged through Koganei Park after inadvertently dropping her apartment key.

So it had come as a horrific awakening yesterday afternoon when that revolting beast punched her in the face. She’d been working out in the apartment and her music had been deafening, one of the typical Finnish Metal bands, Apocalyptica or Insomnium she couldn’t remember exactly, it had all happened so fast. Nea had dropped her damp trainers to air near the door and had just peeled off her vest when she felt rather than heard the door banging. Of course, in the television detective dramas, they always seemed to be able to tell when a murder victim had known their intruder and in her case, they’d have been right. She’d squinted through the spy-hole and been surprised and bewildered to see her boss standing there looking annoyed. Without thinking, she unlocked the door, not worrying for a second about her state of undress as he’d seen her nearly naked a hundred times before. The next thing she had been aware of had been this huge fist filling her vision and she’d not had a second to react. The physical force of the blow had been enough to send her flying backwards across the room and she clattered onto a small glass table, shattering it into a thousand pieces and launching a mug of water through her flat screen television.

Without a word being spoken, he’d dragged her across the glass splintered floor into her bedroom and violated her repeatedly and without sympathy, treating her worse than an animal. Then afterwards, as she cowered sobbing under a blood-soaked sheet, he simply said that she belonged to him now and if she breathed a word of this to anyone he’d slice off her head before throwing her body in a dumpster. Nea felt herself flinch as he swung his arms mimicking the sword action of a Samurai. He demanded her passport and mobile phone before leaving her curled up in a tight ball on the floor, her back pressed up hard against the corner walls of the room.

She’d lain for hours, drifting in and out of consciousness, trying to pretend it had all been a bad dream. But then the pain would stab into her and she’d come to with the awful realisation that she’d been raped by a powerful and influential man who now had her in his power. Nea hadn’t considered for a second he’d want to subject her to any further assaults, thinking he’d made his appalling conquest and that would be it. If she could withstand this horror, then she might survive.

But it had been early evening, under the protective cover of darkness, before she could summon the strength to stagger, shivering and disorientated, back through the open-plan living area towards the bathroom. There in the reflected neon glow from the building opposite she saw something alien and violent. A hot wave of nausea coursed through her body and the acid contents of her stomach gushed out of her, burning her throat, before splashing noisily over her bare feet. This couldn’t be over. There on her sofa sat a thick wad of bank notes and a new iPhone. He had taken ownership of her. 

And so now hours later she was still sitting hunched up on the leather chair just staring at the phone in the twilight, her eyes unblinking, waiting for it to ring like you’d watch for a rattlesnake to strike. She’d not even switched a light on. After soaking her bruised body in a long bath until the water had gone cold and then applying every lotion and potion she possessed, the hot tears rolled down her face once more as she found fresh blood on her pristine bathrobe, realising she’d gashed her feet on the broken glass. Wanting to tell someone, but with her family so far away, Nea felt she’d been severed from the world she’d known and for the first time in her young life, completely and utterly lost.

Chapter 5

Ridge switched on his mobile for the customary message checking he did every morning. His IT consultancy work had taken a definite back seat since they’d moved into the cottage and then with all the changes in the family, both positive and not so, he’d not given it the time it deserved. Thankfully, there were no new messages of any note requiring his attention today. He powered it off and chucked it back onto the Dutch dresser in the kitchen and got back to the real business of the day. Building his Castle Strong as Orla would facetiously term his attempts at home improvements.

But the one thing they both agreed on wholeheartedly and often without even having to discuss it had been their need for the utmost security. They would never ever be caught off guard again.

They’d shown Orla’s brother Colm when he’d been over from Chile for the funeral. It had been wonderful for Orla to see him and Juanita again, but bittersweet for Ridge, not only because of the sombre reason for the occasion but also the fact that it inevitably dredged up unhappy and mixed up emotions. Previous to this visit, the last time they’d met, Colm had put a bullet through the forehead of a young woman who Ridge had been extremely fond of. Colm’s mysterious world of espionage and shadow play had come too close for comfort in the foothills of the Himalayas and Ridge had pledged to his wife that never again would it be allowed to compromise the safety of his family.  So much so that he initially tried to put off his brother-in-law from making the Scottish trip, but he’d been over-ruled by Orla. Ridge might have survived all manner of life-threatening situations, but he’d long accepted that Orla remained a battle he’d never win.

And the visit had been a bridge building exercise too. Colm and Juanita graciously accepted their positions of godparents and Colm had given them crucially important advice on their ‘home improvements.’

Their quaint little cottage appeared to be just like the majority of dwellings on the tiny island of Sorsay on the West Coast. Built for practicality rather than comfort and set slightly into the lee of the small rise that ran along the eastern coast of the island, the cottage still had its original stone walls which were almost three feet thick. The windows were so small that on anything but the sunniest of days you were required to switch on an electric light. The houses were intended for eating and sleeping, a place where you’d take a brief respite from the labours of the farm or