by J J Cooper
Time for plan B. He lowered the pistol, got onto his feet and kicked the door closed. He placed the safety catch on and threw the pistol across the room. It landed under the table. 'How do I know she's still alive?'
'A little trust, I suppose. I've got no need to kill her. Unlike you soldier types, we don't kill unless it's necessary. If you don't hand over the disc, then it'll be necessary.'
'Somehow the trust thing with you just doesn't make sense. You make a living being a manipulative little bitch. I need proof she's alive.'
'I want to see that recording before you get to see your girlfriend. Now, keeping your hands where I can see them, move forward and place the disc into the computer.'
He slowly took the backpack off, held it in front of him and walked to the table. As he passed the bedroom, he looked at Catherine. The silencer pointed at him.
'Nothing stupid and we'll all get through this,' she said.
He pulled out a chair and placed the backpack on it. Then stepped a couple of paces to the side.
'I said put the disc into the computer.'
'This is quid pro quo. The disc is in the bag and I don't exactly trust having my back to you. Besides, I've no idea how to use your computer.'
'It's like any normal fucking computer.'
'Not mine. I've got a Mac. Very different. I'm unarmed. You want to see the recording, you can put it in yourself.'
She waved the phone around.
'Not gonna make any difference,' he said. 'It'll take too long for me to figure out how to use it and you wouldn't want me to accidentally wipe the recording, would you?'
'What's stopping me pulling the trigger on you now?'
'Two things. You don't know yet if anything is on that disc. And besides, you kill me and you only get three chances at the password before the disc wipes itself clean.'
She considered her options. Held the phone up like she was going to press the button to kill Sarah. Jay didn't blink, didn't dare move a muscle. He needed her to open the bag. He had gambled again with someone else's life. He didn't want Sarah in his dreams wearing a suicide vest.
Catherine frowned and lowered the phone. 'On your knees. Hands on your head,' she said.
He did as instructed. She stepped towards the computer and placed the phone on the table. The pistol remained in her hand, pointing at him as she tried the zipper of the backpack. It wouldn't budge. She had to hold the fabric of the backpack to unzip it. Her eyes darted between the backpack and Jay. She seemed to be weighing up her options. Jay hoped she chose the option he had planned for.
With the pistol still in hand, but now pointed slightly away from him, she unzipped the backpack. Expecting Jay to pounce, her eyes didn't leave him. Still watching him, she slid her free hand into the backpack and started fumbling around.
Jay imagined hundreds of cockroaches just waiting to escape. He saw the first one sprint up her forearm before she was aware of it. She re-directed her attention to the bag. A split second later she realised a cockroach had made its way up her arm, followed by another. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand out of the bag. It was covered in cockroaches. She shrieked and used the pistol to brush them off.
Jay took his opportunity. He shoulder-rolled and bounced to his feet. Hands extended, he grabbed Catherine's arm. She was too fixated on removing cockroaches to react in time. He raised her arm with the pistol high in the air and kneed her side. A sickening blow that knocked the wind out of her. He bent her wrist back, took the pistol and let her drop to the floor. Cockroaches continued to crawl over her as she clutched her side and sucked in deep breaths. He placed the pistol on the table and turned her over onto her stomach.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her face next to his. 'Where is she?'
Catherine didn't answer. Tried to get her breath back.
Jay was overtaken by an urge to smash her face into the floor. It took all his willpower to remain restrained. 'Where is she?' Spittle flew onto her face.
'Fuck you,' she mouthed.
'I won't fall for that one again,' he said. He let go of her hair, knowing there was little time to get to Sarah. Her face dropped to the carpet with a thud and a moan. He searched her thoroughly and found what he was looking for in less than ten seconds. A room key. He checked the number; it was for the room next door. She wriggled under his weight. The pressure built up inside him. He lifted her by the hair and pushed her face back down. The cracking of her nose and her muffled scream reminded him that he wasn't like them. He regretted hurting her, and it made him wonder what he was capable of. He shook off the feeling.
He resisted the temptation to run next door and instead looked around for something to bind Catherine. He spotted a toaster on the kitchenette. The cord. While she lay still, sucking in deep breaths and moaning over her broken nose, he ripped the cord from the toaster and tied her hands behind her back. He wanted to rescue Sarah. He knew she would be there, bleeding. Time was ticking away. He needed a gag and leapt off Catherine. He went into the bedroom and started to take off a pillowcase. Something made him glance towards the bathroom.
The life sucked from him. A woman sat slumped in a chair facing away from him, wrists tied behind her back. No fingers on either hand. Just bloody stumps. Jay felt the bile scorch the back of his throat. He fought it down, dropped the pillow and crept towards the bathroom, his knees begging to give way. He tried to say something but couldn't. Lips wouldn't move, throat bone-dry. He looked across at Catherine. A gust of wind blew the curtains across her face and then rested against the window. It was as if the curtain had covered her transformation from evil Mossad agent into a raving psychopath. Her head was tilted up, blood dripping from her nose onto the carpet. She grinned, an evil grin. He shifted his attention to the bathroom and noticed something different about Sarah. Wrong hair colour. He paused behind her, standing in a pool of blood. His trembling hands ran through his hair, eyes welled and breathing became shallow. He forced his shaking hands forward and around her. Cupped her chin and lifted her head back. Gasped and dry-retched. The throat had been cut from ear to ear. His mouth widened in disgust and surprise.
It wasn't Sarah.
And then he understood why Uncle Pat had betrayed him and done the things he had done. Understood what could turn the Director of NSIS into an evil manipulator. Understood why he had betrayed those he'd called his friends. He held the head of his childhood friend. Uncle Pat's daughter, Tanya.
FORTY-EIGHT
Jay pulled his hands away from Tanya's head as though he'd been hit with an electric shock. The sight of his blood-covered hands sent him reeling to the sink. He bent over and emptied the contents of his stomach through coughing fits. It took a minute or so for him to calm down. Bloodied handprints ringed the basin. He cursed the paper that wrapped the hotel soap before dropping it onto the floor in a pool of Tanya's blood. He cursed again as he picked up the soap and noticed her severed fingers inches away from his face. He dropped the soap again and headed for the shower. He leaned in with his feet planted outside the cubicle and switched on the tap. Cold water poured down his head and back, under his shirt and into his jeans. He didn't care, just wanted to get the blood and vomit off him. The putrid smell. There was more than just Tanya's blood on his hands.
He buried his face in a towel and realised that he was no closer to knowing where Sarah was or what had happened to her. Then he felt guilty for thinking about Sarah and not focusing on Tanya. How could his judgement of Uncle Pat have been so wrong? He finally understood what had driven Uncle Pat to do the things he had. For his one and only daughter. Now he lay in hospital not knowing. He had to call Uncle Pat, but not before he got some information out of Catherine. He placed the bloodstained towel over Tanya's head; it seemed like the right thing to do.
He turned to leave the bathroom. A familiar face stood blocking the doorway. Business suit, pistol and a poker face. A man he hadn't seen in many years.
'Hello, Mr Ryan.'
Jay closed his eyes tight and ope
ned them, wanting it to be a dream.
'Hands on your head please.'
There was no chance of pulling his pistol and he obeyed the instruction. He knew this person was all business and wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. A measure of control was now required. A fall-back to his training.
'That's good, Mr Ryan. Now slowly come forward to the carpet and lie face down, hands outstretched.'
The man edged back into the room and Jay followed. He dropped to the carpet and complied with the request. The man stood just beyond Jay's outstretched hands. A forearm dug into his neck and pushed his face deep into the carpet. A second man. He could feel the fibres grinding into his teeth while his neck quickly went numb. He was thoroughly searched by the second man. Jay could tell it wasn't Catherine by the weight on his back and the size of the hands. The pistol was removed from the front of his pants and the weight lifted from him.
'Now it would please us if you would sit on the floor at the end of the bed and raise your hands toward the bedposts.'
Jay pushed himself off the carpet, onto his knees. With his hands on his head he edged toward the end of the bed, sat down with his legs extended and raised his arms toward the bedposts. The man with the pistol came around to his front and stood by the table. Catherine emerged from the direction of the kitchenette, wiping her bloodied nose with a dishcloth. Jay's right arm was grabbed and a pillowcase used to lash it to a bedpost. Jay recognised the second man, wearing a business suit identical to his partner's. His other hand was bound to the other bedpost and the second man joined the others at the table.
Jay had a premonition this situation wasn't going to end well for him. He was running out of luck. 'Good to see you two gentleman again,' he said. 'How is the general?'
The one with the pistol still pointed at Jay answered. 'Dead.'
'That's a shame. Talkative one too. Hope you two didn't get heavy-handed with him.'
'Heart attack.'
Jay nodded. 'Happens.'
'Shut up, Jay.' Catherine wiped her nose again. 'You're going to pay for this when we've finished with you.'
'Well, that doesn't make sense. I assume when you finish with me I'll be dead. So how are you going to make me pay then?'
Both men tried hard not to laugh at Jay's comment, at Catherine's expense. She took a step toward Jay before the man with the pistol stopped her. 'Let's get on with this, Dalia. We're on a tight schedule,' he said.
'Don't use my name, idiot.'
'What's it matter?'
'Fine, Eli,' she said.
It confirmed Jay's worse fears – he wasn't coming out of this situation intact. 'What a lovely name,' Jay said. 'Dalia Primrose. That's if you're going to keep your married name when you get back to Israel.'
She was ready to respond before Jay cut her off. 'Where's Sarah, Dalia?'
'Who?' said Eli.
'The Australian secret agent Dalia kidnapped,' Jay said.
'What's he talking about?' Eli said to Dalia.
'Just a loose end that's been taken care of. He took care of it himself, actually.' She wiped her nose again and smiled at Jay. 'She was in the boot of the car that he stole from me. Good chance she'll be dead by now.'
Jay realised that he'd never checked the boot when he'd left the car at the train station. Had no reason to. His arms strained against the ties. It couldn't be. Didn't want to believe he was responsible for yet another death. He worked overtime trying to think of the timing and if she could be rescued alive. But he would have heard something by now. He dropped his head and let his arms go slack.
'Just get the disc and get this over with,' Eli said. 'David, check to make sure it's the one.'
'Where is it?'
'In the bag full of cockroaches,' Dalia said.
Jay didn't have to look up. The disc was blank. Just a matter of time before the physical pain started again. No way out of it. He wanted it all to end. Ironically, by bringing a blank disc, he'd probably live a while longer, albeit in a lot of pain. He had too much pride to die without a fight though, and lifted his head to watch the proceedings.
It didn't take long for David to realise he had put a blank disc into the computer. He simply said, 'It's not on here.'
'Check it, Dalia,' Eli said. 'For your sake it had better be there.'
She checked. 'It's not here. I don't understand.'
'I do,' Eli said. 'You have thirty seconds to find out where it is.'
She looked at Eli, who was focused on his watch. Then she shifted her gaze to Jay. He hadn't seen that expression before. Panic. The always-in-control psychopath feared for her wellbeing. She picked up her pistol with the silencer attached. 'Where is it?' she said to Jay.
'Don't know what you're talking about. Although it may be a compatability issue – told you I use a Mac.'
She rushed forward and stood next to his legs, her pistol extended toward him. Perfect, he thought.
'Where is the fucking disc with the recording?'
'Are you sure you have the right software on your computer?'
She lowered the pistol and shot a round into the carpet beside his leg. Although the pistol was fitted with a silencer, it still made all three men jump to attention.
As she brought the weapon back toward him, she moved nearer, as if to menace him further by holding the weapon closer to her target. Bad move. Jay kicked up and caught her high on the wrist. The pistol tumbled over his head and onto the bed. He slid down the carpet as far as his lashed hands would allow and kicked her knees from under her. She fell toward him. He pushed one leg up under her throat and the other behind her head and dragged her down. Not quite the impact with the floor he wanted. Not enough to break her neck. The blow had stunned her and she looked groggy as she got to her knees.
Jay expected a bullet to be coming his way but both men stood still. Just watching the show.
Jay pushed his hips one way then back and kicked hard into the side of Dalia's head. The impact jarred his foot. Cracking sounds echoed around the room followed by a thud as her head hit the ground. He doubted she'd survived long enough to feel her head hitting the carpet. Matted hair covered her face and he couldn't see her eyes. His leg had followed through and rested on her torso. He lifted it off, sat back up and paid attention again to the man with the gun. One down, just two to go, he thought.
'Very impressive, Mr Ryan,' Eli said. He indicated to David, who moved forward to check for a pulse.
Jay tracked David's movements. David shook his head to Eli, indicating that Dalia was dead. And so ends Catherine Primrose, manipulator and wife of a psychopath, Dalia the Mossad agent, he thought.
'Now that's taken care of, we should get down to business, Mr Ryan. And just to be certain that you are under no illusions that it is acceptable to try something like that with David or myself...' He lowered the weapon and shot a round into the sole of Jay's left foot.
The movement was executed too quickly for Jay to react. A burning sensation ran up his leg. He bit down on his lip, but didn't cry out. Today he was going to die like a man, like a soldier. No begging, no screaming. In a convoluted way, he understood that the two men before him were professionals, just doing their job.
'Again, I'm impressed, Mr Ryan. You know, under different circumstances you would have been a perfect candidate for Mossad.'
Jay gritted his teeth against the pain and managed to say, 'I'm not Jewish.'
Eli smiled. 'A sense of humour too. Right, let's get down to business.' He turned to face his partner. 'David, could you find something that will inflict a lot of pain?'
For the first time, David smiled.
Jay swallowed hard.
FORTY-NINE
Jay caught his breath and tried to ignore the searing pain driving up through his leg. 'That won't be necessary,' he said. 'I'm pretty sure you're going to torture me until I tell you where the original disc with the recording is, and then kill me.' He paused and raised his eyebrows, turning the statement into a question. Eli nodded.
Ja
y could feel his blood pooling into the bottom of his boot. 'The three of us are professionals and I understand you two have a job to do. It's not personal.' He looked at Dalia and then back to Eli. 'Your friend here made it personal and paid the ultimate price.' Both men nodded to Jay. 'I've finished my journey of revenge for what she did, and quite frankly I don't give a shit about the recording. What's done is done.'
Eli considered the statement while David looked at him waiting for a response. 'So you're willing to tell us where it is, in exchange for what?' Eli said.
Jay noticed the hands of both men. No nicotine stains. 'There's this little girl. She visits me in my dreams, nightmares really. Blames me for all the bad in Iraq. Wears a suicide vest and always visits when I go to bed sober. Now, I'm not religious but I don't want her visiting me when I'm dead. So I'd like a nice cold can of scotch and dry before you shoot me. And a last cigarette or three. The disc is in Brisbane. I figure you'd want to get it and make sure it's the right one before you kill me. That gives me about an hour to indulge in a couple of luxuries before I die. What do you say, Eli?'
Eli tapped the silenced pistol against the side of his leg and appeared to consider the statement and requests. 'I know about those types of nightmares. A bit of professional courtesy is what you're after?'
'Exactly.'
'Can you imagine how long I could make you live and suffer should that disc not be where you tell us it is?'
'I'm not willing to find out. You'll need a pen and paper to write down some access details for a safe deposit box in the middle of the city.'
David fetched a pen and paper and Jay gave him the relevant details.
'I'll also need to call ahead and tell them that someone else is coming to access it.'
'Why?' Eli said. 'It must be a big bank. I'm sure they won't remember what you look like. David here could be you.'
Jay looked across at David. Same broad shoulders, same height, looked reasonably fit. Eli was right apart from the facial features. 'I was in there a couple of hours ago. They'll have the same person working the counter. She'll realise. But I know her well enough to convince her that David here can access the safe deposit box.'