by J J Cooper
'I'll bring up the phones and the bill authorisation personally, sir.'
The phones would come in handy and Jay wanted to avoid shops as much as possible now that his details had hit the media. He shouldered the backpack and made his way back to his room via the stairs.
Sarah greeted him with a grin and a hug. Then kissed him hard on the lips, clearly appreciating his safe return. He felt an unfamiliar comfort as he returned the kiss. Again he wished that they'd met in different circumstances.
'I was getting worried,' she said.
'Apart from a bruised ego from having to carry this backpack, I'm good.'
She screwed up her face. 'The Wiggles?'
'Present from the dealer. Mind you, he's now got one of our credit cards. Probably headed straight for McDonald's.'
'I knew it was too good to be true. Have you checked it?' she said, indicating the bag.
'Not yet.'
Sarah unzipped the backpack as they moved over to the bed. She took out the money and the two packages wrapped in cloth and placed them on the quilt cover. The backpack also contained two boxes of ammunition, which she handed to Jay. He placed the boxes on the bedside table and helped himself to one of Sarah's cigarettes.
As promised, the cloths contained a 9 mm Browning pistol and a Glock 19. He pulled apart the Browning with practised hands, as did Sarah with the Glock. They worked in silence, doing their best to clean the weapons with the cloths. Both were in surprisingly good condition.
Sarah finished assembling the Glock and studied it. 'I hope we got our money's worth.'
'Not our money to start with, but I know what you mean.' Jay had the Browning together, stuck his middle finger inside the magazine housing and pressed the trigger to release the trigger mechanism. 'Have to admit, I feel a hell of a lot better now that I have this.'
They loaded their magazines and positioned them on their weapons. Then they placed both pistols on the bedside tables.
Room service arrived with their late-night meals. Jay turned up the television in hope of hearing something about their plight, or rather in hope of not hearing about their plight. Halfway through their meals, Jay made the news headlines.
'Leading tonight's late news bulletin. A highly decorated army officer is tonight on the run from authorities. It is alleged that Sergeant Jay Ryan killed his superior officer by brutally stabbing him early this morning at a military intelligence facility on the Gold Coast. Sources state that Sergeant Ryan was arrested by military police but promptly escaped custody with the aid of two accomplices. The army has yet to release an official statement on the alleged murder or escape. Police have released a short statement advising the public not to approach Sergeant Ryan. In other news . . .'
Jay continued cutting his steak. 'I hate it when they refer to me as an officer.'
Sarah pushed her food aside. 'Doesn't that worry you at all?'
'Absolutely. Never wanted to be an officer.'
'Not what I meant.'
He finished a mouthful of food. 'About the allegations? Just means we gotta be more careful. Besides, did you see that picture of me? Looks nothing like I do now.'
'Very handsome in uniform.'
'That's why I joined. Women love a man in uniform.'
Sarah rolled her eyes. 'Seriously, why did you join? Because of your dad?'
'Yep. Dad was Military Intelligence. He met Mum after he got back from a tour of Vietnam. They fell in love and he promised her he wouldn't go back. That's when he joined the Agency. Suppose I wanted to experience what he had. The army has taken me to some amazing places. It has shown me the extremes of life. Birth and death. Right and wrong. Things against which I can measure my own thoughts and actions. It's helped me understand where I fit in, in the scheme of things.'
'Where do you fit in?'
'I thought I knew. Remember when I said I didn't want to follow in Dad's footsteps going to NSIS?'
'Yes.'
'I didn't want to follow in his footsteps until the time was right to join the Agency. When I got back from Iraq I didn't meet anyone. Like Dad met Mum. I suppose I was waiting to find that someone so I didn't have to go back. So I could join the Agency. Didn't happen like it was supposed to. The army thought I would be a good teacher and that's what I am.'
Sarah nodded.
Jay changed the subject. 'I think I'll be right with that picture. I've changed plenty since then.'
'True, but we have to be smarter from now on. Including ditching this room. People in this hotel have seen you. They could make the match.'
'Yes, they could. But those who have seen me are working at the moment – wouldn't have caught that bulletin. I figure we stay here for a couple of hours, move to the next objective and then find Primrose.'
'What, pray tell, is the next objective?' she asked.
'We have to make it look as if the contracts for our extinction have been fulfilled.'
Sarah raised her eyebrows. 'What's your plan?'
'I want to start by sending a message to Uncle Pat to see if he can track down Primrose.'
Jay had his confidence back. He felt a clarity and sharpness that he hadn't experienced since Iraq. He started to believe again in his abilities. Something he'd questioned since he had returned and been pushed into a teaching role. Once again he felt the adrenalin surge of living on the edge. Primrose would pay.
'And then?' she asked.
'Then we catch us an assassin,' he said.
THIRTY-TWO
'Are you kidding?' Sarah asked.
Jay wasn't. 'We need to find out who hired the assassin. That should lead to Dad. Simple as that. Find the hitman, tie him up, ask him a few questions and track down whoever hired him,' he said.
'Somehow I can't see a hitman giving up the name of his employer. Kinda bad for future business. Listen to yourself, Jay. It's a damned assassin, not some young soldier sitting in front of you shitting himself and ready to tell you if he wears women's panties or dates dwarves.'
'Local assassins probably wouldn't rate a mention in my memoir compared to some of the scum I've interrogated. Besides, I don't think there's an option.'
Sarah took a deep breath. 'I think we should be getting out of here now and finding Primrose,' she said.
Her tone surprised him. 'My father's more important to me than a goddamned piece of paper. As soon as Dad's safe, I'll deal with Primrose.'
Another heavy breath. 'All I'm saying is, you want to take on an assassin, and I know you don't want to run, but it's a fucking assassin.'
'Why has the "we" gone out of your statements?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Let's just get the fuck out of here. We get Primrose and the document and that will lead to your dad.' She softened her voice. 'I've only just got to know you. I don't want to lose you now. We've enough time to get out of here and find Primrose before they find us. The longer we stay, the longer the odds for us staying alive.'
Jay calmed himself and grabbed the plates from the bed, placing them on the service trolley. He lit a cigarette and pondered Sarah's logic. Far too many variables in trying to catch an assassin; to interrogate him and find out who hired him. Probably a stupid idea in the first place. On the other hand, it would buy time and he didn't want to be running. Although, technically, he was already on the run from the law. Another thing: too many risks in going back to the Sofitel. And that would be the only way to draw the assassin into a trap. He ran a hand over the whiskers on his chin. 'You think it's too risky?'
'Hell yes, it's too risky.'
He paced the room and drew deeply on the cigarette. 'We're going to be hunted.'
She walked to him and placed her hand in his. 'And we're sitting ducks hanging around here.' She rubbed her thumbs over the back of his hands; it was calming and sensual.
There were merits either way. His priority was finding his father; however, he knew that sometimes one needed to fight a different battle to win a war. Years as an interrogator had taught him to attack on various fronts. This wa
sn't much different. As long as the end state remained the same, he needed to use the best tactics available. He walked to the window and peered out at the city lights. 'How are we going to track Primrose? Even if I get the message to Uncle Pat, I don't think he'll be in a position to help us.'
Sarah joined him at the window. 'I could call some colleagues to see what they know. Cash in some favours.'
'I don't know.' He shook his head. 'Uncle Pat and the PM were clear on the official help – or rather the lack thereof – we'll receive.'
Sarah appeared to be in deep thought. After a moment she said, 'You know, I have some police contacts who think I'm an actual federal agent. Perhaps I can figure out who's handling Bowen's murder. If I can find out where Catherine is, it should lead us to Primrose.'
Before Jay could answer, there was a knock on the door. 'Hold that thought,' he said.
Sarah moved to the bedside table, grabbed the Glock and made her way to a position covering the door. Jay grabbed his pistol and went to the door.
'Speak,' he said.
'Concierge, sir. I have the items you requested.'
Jay gave a nod to Sarah, indicating that he knew the voice. She remained in her position, slightly lowering the Glock.
Comfortable with the Browning tucked into the back of his pants, Jay peeked through the view-hole. Satisfied that the concierge was alone, he opened the door.
Jay had no idea where Sarah hid her weapon, but she now stood smiling, waiting for an introduction – an expectation Jay wasn't going to fulfil. He wanted the transaction completed so they could move out of the city in search of Primrose.
'Good evening, ma'am.'
Sarah threw Jay a sharp look before turning her attention to the concierge. 'Hi.'
An uncomfortable silence ensued, but then Jay broke the tension. 'I guess that's the introductions done. We'll all do dinner some other time. Have you got the phones?'
'Yes, sir, and an authorisation to add my service expense to your bill.' He handed the bag and the authorisation slip to Jay.
Sarah came forward, took the bag and swung away to the bed before Jay had a chance to say anything. He looked at the concierge and shrugged.
Jay held out his hand and the concierge promptly produced a pen.
'We need another favour,' Jay said.
The concierge grinned and Jay was sure he noticed dollar signs flashing in his eyes.
'What would that be, sir?'
'Need a hire car within the hour.'
Like a professional car salesman, the concierge put his hand to his chin, considering the costs involved. 'This time of night . . .'
'Enough of the theatrics. You know where to get one. No doubt the hotel has a contract agreement with a car-hire company. So within the next hour, no longer, I'm willing to add another couple of hundred to your tip.'
A grin spread across the concierge's face. 'Any particular model?'
Jay handed back the pen and signed authorisation slip. 'Just make it comfortable. If you have it out the front in thirty minutes, I'll make the tip five hundred. And that's in addition to what I have already given you for the phones.' Jay didn't mind how much it cost. It would all be billed to the credit card now in the hands of the obese weapons dealer.
'I'll do my best, sir.' The concierge turned and walked out.
Jay closed the door and joined Sarah on the bed. He watched her put the two phones together and test them. He could sense that she wasn't in the best of moods and didn't want to push her, guessing that the gravity of their situation was starting to sink in.
After programming each phone with their numbers, they packed their limited possessions and made their way to the lobby. As promised, the concierge appeared with the keys to a rental car and some paperwork.
Jay checked his watch as the concierge neared. Twenty-seven minutes after the concierge had left the room. Nice work, he thought.
The transaction was complete with the flick of a pen across the appropriate forms, the tip left as promised and added to the bill. With a curt nod, the concierge disappeared into the bar.
Jay and Sarah were happy with the rental – a Toyota four-wheel-drive. It sat sparkling white under the streetlights at the hotel's front entrance. Jay got in the driver's side. 'Where to?' he asked as Sarah sat down in the passenger seat.
'Find an internet café. I want to let the Director know where we're at.'
'You think that's wise? He didn't ask for updates.'
'I think we should at least tell him that we're finally going after Primrose.'
'What do you mean by finally?'
'Don't you think we've wasted enough time here? We could have gotten to Primrose already.'
'I think we've achieved quite a bit, actually. Unless you're referring to what happened upstairs between us as a waste of time.' As soon as the words were out, he regretted saying them. The air in the car became thick with tension.
Sarah stared through him. Her jaw clenched tight. She started to say something when her eyes became wide as though she'd seen a ghost. 'Drive!' she shouted, reaching for the Glock.
Jay reacted in an instant, pressing hard on the accelerator as the Glock came up. He released the clutch and the pistol whipped in front of his face. He pushed back in the seat, trying to avoid the weapon's cold steel. Tyres screamed for grip and the pistol moved away from his face. He thought Sarah had the weapon pointed at his ear.
The air was sucked out of him and he felt like he'd been thumped on the back of the head. Two rounds had been released from the Glock. A double tap at a target Jay couldn't see. His ears rang as he struggled to steer in the right direction. He ducked his head against the steering wheel and ran a red light, crossing two lanes, thankful not to hit another car.
He hadn't dared breathe for an entire block. His heart pounded in time with the vibrations between his ears. Glancing sideways at Sarah, he saw her holding her head in her lap, hands covering her ears. He straightened up in the seat and slowed the vehicle.
He drove for a few more blocks and pulled up near the South Bank Parklands.
Sarah raised her head. She'd been crying. She mouthed sorry to him. He couldn't hear. He reached over and put his arm around her, pulling her head to his shoulder. They held their embrace until their breathing slowed.
Jay shook his head as though he was trying to shake water from his ears. Sarah leaned back in her chair. He looked over his shoulder to the rear passenger window that Sarah had shattered with her bullets.
He cleared his throat to check his hearing. It started to come back. 'What the hell happened?' he said, a little too loud.
Sarah wiped her face on her sleeve. 'Gun. Someone was coming at the car pointing a gun.'
Jay checked the window again. Two thumb-sized holes with a thousand spiderwebs crawled across what was left of the window. He looked back to Sarah. 'Silencers would have been handy.'
She coughed at his attempted humour. 'I'm sorry. . . I. . .just reacted. Someone was running toward us halfway across the street.' She swallowed hard, looked to the shattered window and then back to Jay. 'I think I just killed the Deputy Director.'
THIRTY-THREE
'What? No ... you shot Keith?' Jay asked.
'He was carrying a gun and he started to raise it and I ... I ... just fired. He was coming for us ... I swear.'
'OK, OK. Settle down.' Jay hit the steering wheel. 'Shit! Did you hit him?'
'I'm not sure. I suppose. I couldn't see out of the window and the shots took the wind out of me. I don't know. God, I hope not. Fuck, what have I done?'
Jay attempted to comfort her. 'It'll be all right. Like you said, he had a gun.' He tried to convince himself that Sarah had done the right thing. 'What the fuck was he doing there?'
'I killed him, didn't I? We have to go back.'
'We can't go back. There'll be police everywhere. We have to keep moving. Why was he there in the first place? Why would he want to kill us? It's not right – it's Keith. Why the fuck would he want us? This isn't g
ood.'
Sarah sat up. 'Wait, do you think he had a hand in all of this? Oh, shit. Do you think . . . Lazarau?' She let the name hang in the air.
Jay checked and adjusted his mirrors. The thought of Keith Harper wanting to kill him tightened a knot in his stomach. He shook his head. 'It can't be.'
'I swear he had a gun on us. He had the power to move Lazarau in general population. He had the contacts for the hit on Lazarau. And I've been saying all along that the information flowing out of the Agency has been slow. It makes sense.'
'What would he gain from killing me . . . us?'
'Maybe he wanted the document. Maybe Bowen was working for him and he thinks you killed Bowen.'
'Shit.' He hit the steering wheel again. 'This is all screwed up. Did Uncle Pat mention anything to you about Keith?'
Sarah appeared to be considering her answer. A slight pause that lasted a touch too long for a simple yes or no. 'He reiterated not to contact anyone in the Agency. And he did add especially not to contact Deputy Director Harper. He didn't say why and I didn't ask.' She rubbed her eyes. 'This hasn't been right from the start. Take a look at your wrist.'
Jay figured Sarah's pause was due to shock and dispensed with his suspicions. He turned over his hand and pulled his sleeve back. He stared at the rose tattoo. It was possible that Bowen was working for Keith, he thought. But what would Keith have to gain from the interrogation report of the Iraqi general? Perhaps he was manoeuvring himself into a deal with Zinner. That's assuming Primrose was working for Catherine's father. The interrogation report had some political clout . . . He cut himself mid-thought. 'Is there an election coming up?'
'What?'
'An election. Federal election.'
'It hasn't been called but it can't be too far away, why?'
'If released to the public, that report would ruin the current government. Once an election is called, there's no turning back. Make it a much easier campaign for Zinner and his party.'
Sarah nodded her agreement. 'Makes some sense,' she said. 'We need to find an internet café and get a message to the Director. Let him know what we think.'
Jay nodded. 'And you need to make a phone call. Arrange an interview with Catherine. We need to find Primrose.'