by L. T. Ryan
He liked the odds and shot the man in the back. No sooner had he squeezed the trigger, did Jack drop to the floor. He watched for movement from the other side of the room.
A shot rang out.
Not his own. He wasn’t prepared. It felt like an icepick penetrated his eardrum.
The other idiot had fired wildly. The bullet lodged into the wall five feet away. Jack had the idiot’s location, but no shot available.
“Jack are you back there?” Sadie called from the other end of the corridor.
He couldn’t answer. But he saw the last man start moving toward the doorway.
Keep going. Keep going.
Mrs. Calabase spoke in slurred Italian. Jack couldn’t understand, but the last guy stopped, bent over, slapped her on the face.
And that was all Noble could take.
He rose from his squatted position, picked his route, and exploded forward. The light was low, but the footholds were obvious. Jack navigated as though running a ladder drill, only this time he had a true incline. It wasn’t a silent operation. Couldn’t be.
The guy stood tall, looked over his shoulder. His lips separated. His eyes widened. He couldn’t square himself up before Noble launched off the last railing.
Sure, it would’ve been easier to shoot him. But then there’s the chance he would’ve died. This way, Noble could rough him up a bit and then get him to talk.
He collided with the man with the force of a cinder block tossed from the back of a moving F150. The sickening thud of their bones colliding was matched by the terrified scream of Mrs. Calabase as they slammed into her, knocking her chair back and sending her sprawling across the floor.
Jack’s momentum carried the two men further, knocking the man off his feet. Jack had his right arm crossed in front of his face, and with the other, he gripped the man’s shirt.
At once, they stopped. Noble’s head slammed into something hard. He felt the blackness overcome his vision, twinkling lights and fireworks surrounding the edges.
The man underneath him gurgled but didn’t move.
“Jack, are you OK?”
He moaned his response.
“Are you hurt?”
He managed a few words. “Calabase. She all right?”
Sadie checked on the woman and returned a moment later. “She’s startled, but OK. What about you?”
The cobwebs popped from their anchors one by one. The ache in his head localized and felt like someone had used a sledgehammer to drive a wedge into the right side of his forehead.
“I’ll survive,” he managed.
“Better than we can say for your friend.”
Jack got to his knees and rolled off the guy. He looked into the man’s open eyes. Unmoving and lifeless eyes.
“Dammit. That’s the whole team.”
“And we’ve got nothing now,” Sadie said. “Nothing but Mrs. Calabase here.”
And the license plates Clarissa had taken with her.
Chapter 30
The distance from the lot to the hotel was a mile at most. Clarissa covered it in less than six minutes. Her damp tank top clung to her skin. She pushed phantom hair out of her face while wiping sweat from her eyes. Every gasp of air she pulled in no matter how small seared her lungs.
She stood with her hands wrapped around the back of her head, clasped together to keep them from shaking. She pulled her shoulders back, opening the passageway to allow more oxygen in.
It wasn’t the distance. She ran five to ten times farther five days a week, typically at a slower pace, though. Still, she could handle it. The anxiety had taken over and left her nervous system in a lurch.
Someone from the hotel stepped out to check on her.
“Are you OK, miss?”
She nodded and turned away.
“Can we bring you anything? Or help you to your room?”
“I’m good,” she said between breaths, even though she wasn’t. Instead of cooling off, she was getting hotter.
The man didn’t appear to believe her. “Let me show you to your room, Clarissa.”
Her entire body clenched. She shook it off, at least in her face, and continued sucking wind. She hadn’t checked in under her name. In fact, she hadn’t used her name anywhere the past six months. The accounts Beck had set her up with as severance pay were under assumed identities.
Samantha. Jessica. Amelia.
She had rented the room in cash and used a variation, but not one so obvious anyone would catch it.
“Come to think of it,” she said. “I could use a few bottles of cold water. I’m having trouble cooling off out here.”
He smiled then turned and set off toward the hotel entrance.
Clarissa waited, and once the guy moved out of sight, she scanned the length of the road. There were too many spots that offered cover. Too many locals and tourists about. Anyone could be an enemy. And that meant everyone was an enemy.
She considered the items she had upstairs. Ninety-nine percent of what was up there meant nothing. But there was one thing she needed. She could not leave the envelope behind.
The hotel door stood open and the breeze carried cooled air in her direction. She approached the entrance, careful to keep her gaze unfocused so she could spot any movements around her.
Someone was out there. The employee wouldn’t be working alone.
She entered the lobby. Classical music played over the speakers. The vents emanated a floral smell that fit in with the piano arrangement. A young woman maybe twenty years old with the palest blond hair Clarissa had ever seen stood behind the desk. She smiled and called Clarissa by the name she checked in under: Sammie.
The elevator dinged, and the young man stepped out. He aimed a finger at her, then waved her toward him. In his other hand hung a water bottle he grasped under the cap. Even at a distance, she could see the condensation on the outside.
“Ms. Tahini,” he said. “I got this for you, but I put a case of nice cold water in your room. Please, let me escort you.”
She studied him as she approached, careful not to give her suspicions away. Doubt crowded out other thoughts, leading to irrational thinking. She began to replay the scene outside. She heard his thick accent saying the words, slowly at first, then increasing the pace.
“…show you to your room, Clarissa.”
That’s what he had said, right? She’d heard it, right?
Or had she?
The rushing blood dominated everything. It pulsed in her vision. The whomp-whomp of her heartbeat was louder than the passing traffic, sound of the sea, children laughing as they played on the sidewalk.
He led her to the elevator, held the door until she had boarded. The mirrored glass had a golden hue to it. They both looked tan, as though they were returning from the beach.
He smiled when she looked into the reflection of his eyes. The guy was no hardened criminal. He was soft. Baby fat cheeks. Manicured hands. Nicely pressed uniform.
The anxiety melted away, and for the first time since she took off from the parking lot, she caught her breath. She uncapped the water bottle, feeling the seal tear, and took a drink. Half the bottle slid down her throat in a matter of three seconds.
“What did you call me outside?” she asked.
His brow furrowed as he glanced toward the ceiling. “I don’t think I did?”
“You said you’d take me to my room and said a name.”
He smiled and the tension left his face. “Let me show you to your room to rest.”
She parroted his words and his accent. “To rest-ah.” A laugh escaped her throat. “Sounded like you said the name of an old friend of mine.”
The elevator halted, dinged, opened. He stretched out his arm again, and with a sweeping gesture, waited for Clarissa to exit.
She smiled, glanced at his uniform again. The perfect white shirt. Black pants. And a paisley vest with the hotel’s name embroidered on it.
Two steps later, she felt a tug at the strings of her awareness.
>
This isn’t right.
The young woman at the front desk, what did she have on? She was covered from the mid-torso down. Her shirt was a white button up. Her vest, paisley, too. But something looked different.
Clarissa had practiced the walk from the elevator to her room multiple times the previous night. She knew how many steps she had taken. And how many were left. Seven more until she reached her door.
She glanced over her shoulder, not focusing on any one thing behind her. Rather, she took the sight of the man in as a whole and let her mind process the differences between him and the lady downstairs.
He narrowed his eyes. His right hand, which had hung loose at his side, swung behind his back.
She began scanning his uniform.
Three steps to go.
His arm started to come back around.
Two steps to go.
He’s not wearing a name tag.
One step to go.
“Let me show you to your room, Clarissa.”
Her hand reached for the knob.
His hand reappeared holding a long silver pistol.
She turned the handle. The door whipped open, pulled free from her grasp by the suction tunnel created by the wind. She lurched forward, forced the door shut, stepped to the side. Her hand fumbled across the dresser top looking for something, anything, she could use in a fight.
The guy didn’t bother trying the knob. It sounded as though he used a sledgehammer and had attacked the frame. The door smashed inward and splintered at the latch and broke free without the need for a second kick.
Clarissa crouched, knowing the man would sweep the room at eye level first and she would be out of his line of sight long enough for her attack.
The barrel poked through two feet above her head. He followed. It all happened in a second. He spotted her and stepped back while trying to shorten his arms and readjust his wrists.
Clarissa exploded upward, the sharp end of the thick nail file driving out and up. She had figured the attack would strike the groin, doing enough damage to make the guy drop his gun, if not send him collapsing to ground in agonizing pain.
However, his evasive maneuvering to realign his shot had taken him out of harm’s way.
Clarissa’s momentum carried her to her feet. The file’s path would slice into his throat, and she could seat the blade deep, dig it around, and cut the carotid.
He saw it, though, and dropped his head back while arching his back.
Clarissa’s balance shifted, and she turned into him. As soon as he regained his composure, he’d have her in a headlock, and could easily render her unconscious with a couple of pistol butt smashes.
The sunlight streaming through the side window shone on the handgun. The glint caught her eye. Her right arm, already lifted above her head with the file, came down hard on the crook of his elbow, driving the blade through skin and muscle.
The gun went off.
The world bellowed and swerved and pain clawed from one side of her brain and then back.
The man had fared no better against the sound. They were far too close, and not ready.
Clarissa released the file and brought the knifed edge of her fist down on the base of the guy’s thumb. In his disoriented state, that was all it took for him to release his grip on the pistol. It clattered against the tile floor. She kicked it to the side, then brought the same leg up and delivered a knee strike to his groin.
He bowed over in front of her. She clenched both hands high, drove them down at the base of his neck. He flopped to the ground and made a squealing sound as all the air in his lungs escaped at once.
She searched the room and located the pistol.
“Who are you?” she yelled, the firearm aimed at the mass of man on the floor.
He groaned but managed no words.
“Tell me!”
He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, reply.
She moved toward him. There was noise in the hallway. How could there not be? It sounded like a bomb had gone off in the room a few seconds prior.
His hands and legs twitched. His face was turning from blue to purple. She tried to kick him over, but he didn’t budge. His body had already turned lifeless.
One final gasp emanated from his mouth and then his expression went as slack as his body.
She knelt and felt for a pulse. Not present. She rummaged through his pockets and found a folding knife, a wallet, two cell phones, and a crumpled piece of paper.
A man started barking orders at her. She looked up at the guy and lifted the pistol in his direction. He stumbled backward, tripping on the lady behind him and colliding with the wall. He grabbed his shoulder as he slunk to the floor, muttering something over and over. She didn’t need a translator to know the man begged for his life.
Gotta get going, girl.
She took one last look at the room and remembered why she had made the trip up to begin with. She pulled open the dresser drawer and grabbed the envelope.
Now all she had to do was get out of the hotel alive.
Most people would’ve welcomed the sirens that cascaded like the sound of a waterfall throughout the hotel.
For Clarissa, it meant one more obstacle.
Chapter 31
Jack and Sadie found Bear seated atop a three-step walkup. His legs were spread wide. His head buried in his hands with his wild hair hung over them.
“What happened?” Jack asked.
Bear looked up. Blood dripped down one side of his face. “He got up. Had to put him down. Feel bad.”
Jack approached Bear, placing his hand on the big man’s shoulders when he was a couple feet away. “He shouldn’t have come here. They shouldn’t have roughed up the old lady.”
Bear chuckled, then recoiled at the blood that had worked its way into his mouth. He spat off to the side. “Don’t give two shits about the dead guy, man. Physically, I feel bad.” He threw out his arm. “Help my weak ass up.”
Jack pulled him to his feet and assisted him down the steps.
Sadie stood off to the side, phone against her ear. Every answer was affirmative. Clive and his people had watched it all.
“You think—” Bear started.
“I’m not gonna try to guess anymore,” Jack said. “If he wants us dead, why send us out here?”
“Fetish?”
Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the off-the-wall joke.
Sadie tucked her phone away and walked up to the guys. “Well, they were completely blindsided.”
“Didn’t have eyes on the place?” Bear asked.
“There were none. At least, Clive didn’t think so.”
“What happened?” Bear let go of Jack’s arm and stood on his own.
“Hacked. The entire command center shut down, basically.”
“How could that happen?” Jack asked.
“There’s some smart people out there, guys. Better question is, how do you two keep outlasting them?”
“Bear could’ve been a Harvard guy.”
“Told you never to tell anyone that.”
“Focus.” Sadie snapped her fingers and waved her fist in front of them. “Everything was offline. Even the TVs had no reception. Isa gets an idea to start changing the channel. Guess what?” She paused a beat, but neither man spoke up. “Someone had accessed the private cameras throughout the town and were feeding them back on different channels.”
“How?” Jack asked.
“Do I look like a cable guy?” Sadie said. “So, they watched this bit play out.”
“Figured all cell phones were routed through the internet in there,” Bear said. “If they were down, how’d he call you now?”
Jack added a finger wag for emphasis. “What he said.”
Sadie rolled her eyes at Noble and took a deep breath to recenter herself. “Everything came back online right after.”
Jack strode out to the middle of the street and stopped there. He peeled back his shirt and yelled out, “Here’s your chance. Take your sh
ot. Do it. Now.”
Nothing happened.
“What are you doing you damn fool?” Sadie tried to grab his ear, but he ducked at the last second. Her nails caught hold of his hair and a few strands ripped free.
“They’re toying with us,” Jack said. “They’re gonna send us to the next place, and the next, and they’ll always be a step ahead.”
“Who?” Sadie said. “Because if you can answer that, we can put this all to bed right now.”
He shook his head, his chin dipping to his chest. A bead of sweat trickled down the length of his nose. “Can’t answer that. So many people want me dead.”
“But who else hates you enough to torture you like this?” Bear asked.
“Grab a pen and notebook, because that answer will take a while.” He looked up at Sadie. “Answer me honestly, you know the man better than I do. Could—”
“No.” She put her hand on his chest like she was going to shove him back. Instead, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. He caught a whiff of lavender. “I’ve been around Clive for the past ten years on and off. Does he like money? Sure. We all do, right?” She glanced over at Bear. “I’ve seen the man turn down a big payday because the terms weren’t moral. He’d kill you in a heartbeat, Jack. If you deserved it. But he’d never touch Mia.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about Mia?”
“I know everything about you, Jack. I was forced to keep tabs on you two knuckleheads.”
“By Clive?”
She shook her head. “That’s not important. Clarissa is. She’s in real danger. They knew enough to attack the old lady, and I’m gonna go talk to her in a minute to see what she knows, but that means we’ve got a bit of a chance. About thirty minutes worth of a chance to track Clarissa down.” Sadie tossed her keys to Jack. As she headed back to the store, she added, “Get that big oaf in the car and meet me up here.”
Jack wrapped his arm around Bear and helped him down the sloping sidewalk until they reached the car. After a quick check for signs of tampering, he helped Bear into the passenger seat. They drove the few blocks to the store and idled half a block past.
The AC dried any remaining sweat and cooled his body temperature.