Lorimer and Brightman - 08 - Sleep Like the Dead. By Alex Gray Read Online Free

the new boy he should be trying to keep his head down for a bit and settle in. Lorimer stared out of the window, wondering. He’d taken an instant liking to the handsome Egyptian. It would be a pity if he failed to fit comfortably into his team.

CHAPTER 2
    The man laid down the gun then fiddled with the straps on the worn leather bag. He had it down to a fine art, now,
    could strip down the weapon in seconds, transforming it into several parts easily stowed away in the holdall. The job had been simple enough. The guy had been sleepy, hardly registering his presence before the shot that had penetrated his skull. ‘Didn’t know what hit him,’ he muttered under his breath. It was a mantra he often whispered to himself, partly to expunge the act he had committed. He’d forget the man, his address, anything he had known about him, as soon as the money was handed over. He was just another job, that was all. The hit man preferred not to know why he had been assigned to kill this man or why the target had deserved such an end. And there was certainly no room in a mind like his for false sentiment. Sitting along the edge of the unmade bed he stuffed some balled-up clothes into the bag, tucking the bundle closely around the pieces of hardware.
    A quick look around the room sufficed to seek anything that might tell of his presence, but he saw nothing; the gunman was as meticulous in his habits as he was cautious, always choosing some bland, cut-price chain of hotel where there was a large client turnover. Soon a maid would come to clean this room, put on fresh
    linen and another traveller would lay their head on that pillow, oblivious to the identity of the room’s previous occupant. He tightened the final notch, slung the bag over his shoulder and headed out of the hotel room, just another tourist checking out.
    ‘There you are, sir. I hope you enjoyed your stay with us. Have a lovely day.’ The girl with the sleek, dark ponytail barely gave the man a glance, though she did fasten a smile on her lips before turning her attention back to her paperwork. A pleasant faced, middle-aged man of medium build, wearing a khaki-coloured jacket and washed out blue jeans, he was out of her mind even before he had left the building. Now he was ready to pick up his wages. His car’s satellite navigation system would have to take him to the meeting place, across the city. He’d never been to that particular spot before. Then he’d be heading back down the motorway, safe in the knowledge that he had completed another satisfactory assignment. The wind whipped his jacket as he walked around the corner of the building to where he had parked his car, stinging his face with a hint of rain. Looking up at a sky full of grey clouds scudding across the heavens, he muttered a curse under his breath, hoping that he wouldn’t have to wait too long for the handover.
    Minutes later he was heading past Glasgow International Airport towards the city, one eye on the screen showing his route.
    There were not many students about at this time of year. For most of them term did not begin for another two months though there were always those unfortunates with failed examinations to take again who pretended to themselves that physical proximity to the university buildings was going to make all the difference
    next time. So, as he lounged against a pillar in the draughty Gothic portico next to the quadrangle, the gunman had little to see of comings and goings. That suited him. The fewer nosey parkers who remarked upon his presence there the better. A tall, grey-headed man strode out of a door and paused momentarily in his stride as he caught sight of the stranger. A sudden flare of nostrils at the wisp of cigarette smoke issuing from the stranger’s lips expressed his disapproval. Then he was sweeping past on his way and into another massive doorway before the gunman could blink.
    ‘Bang!’ he said softly, making a pistol from his fingers and pointing it in