Hard to Kill - Debt Collector 4 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

“That’s nice. So did I.”

  With that he stepped back a few paces, raised the Glock and fired one round into the man’s forehead. He took the recording device with him and exited the hotel. Outside, no one paid attention as he slipped unnoticed into a cluster of tourists.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By early morning, as a deep orange sun peeked over the horizon, Jack had already been up several hours. He sat inside the lobby of the Crowne Plaza wearing a baseball cap, shades and reading a paper. He hadn’t slept much that night. The thought of the FBI coming after him had unnerved him. Why were they going to this much trouble? Why hadn’t U.S. Marshals been sent in to get him? He had a lot of questions and needed answers. He’d waited in the lobby for the better part of an hour, hoping to see her come down for breakfast. Sure enough, just a little after seven-thirty in the morning, she shuffled out of an elevator. He held the paper up as she passed by not even looking at him or the other three people who were talking among themselves.

  Already knowing what room she was in, he watched her from a distance. As soon as he saw that she was at the breakfast buffet he slipped into the elevator and went up to the third floor. Moving fast, he noticed several maids going in and out of rooms.

  “Excuse me. I’ve got locked out of my room. Stupid. I left the key card inside. Would you mind?”

  The young girl looked at him. “I’m really not supposed to.”

  He flashed her his best smile. “I’d get my wife but she’s already left for the day.”

  “I will radio down to front desk.”

  He pointed to the card on the chain around her waist.

  “But it would be so much quicker if you just…”

  She struggled with the decision. All the while Jack’s pulse was racing. He knew he didn’t have long. He just need to get an idea of what was going on with this FBI agent.

  “Okay. Which room is it?”

  He led her down to the door and she let him in.

  “You are an angel and did anyone ever tell you, you have a lovely smile.”

  She wandered off grinning from ear to ear. As the door closed behind him he looked around for her luggage. On a side table was her phone. He picked it up and tried to access it but there was a lock on it. Damn! He placed it back down and started rooting through her luggage. She had quite a taste for thongs, he chuckled to himself and tossed them back down. Nothing.

  That’s when he noticed on the table a leather folder. He unzipped it and flipped it open. Inside, staring back at him was his mug shot. What the heck? All these details were listed below it. He browsed through the other paperwork that had an FBI logo at the top. There was information from the L.A. police department. It had his rap sheet and a piece of paper with Dana Grant’s name, address and phone number. Dana. Jack grabbed a notepad, and jotted it down. He tore off the paper and pocketed it. He continued rooting through her things until he heard the lock on the door. He pulled his piece and watched as the door handle went down. Then, just as he thought he was about to come face-to-face with her, the door closed. Not wasting anytime he rushed up to the door and peered out the peephole. She was speaking with a woman across from her. Shit! Think, think.

  His eyes scanned the room. He saw the closet. No, stupid.

  He rushed over to the window and opened the double doors that led out to the balcony. He closed them behind him and cautiously stepped over the edge on to the side of the ledge. The wind whipped around him. A light rain was beginning to fall making the stone slippery. It wasn’t very wide at all. He grimaced as he edged his way out. He hated heights, that and water. Shuffling along he moved over to the next balcony and hopped over. He checked the doors but they were locked. Right then he heard doors open. He squeezed himself back as hard as he could against the door of the room next to hers.

  There was a small wall that jutted out and divided the two rooms. He took a deep breath and then…

  Just when he was about to step back out, the doors behind him opened and he fell backwards into the room landing hard on top of the guest. He was a fat businessman who immediately started cursing. Jack rolled over and placed his hand over the guy’s mouth.

  “Shut up.”

  He wouldn’t listen so Jack pulled out his Glock and placed it against the side of his head. That soon shut him up. He dragged him up and pulled him into the washroom. Using the tie from the bathrobe he tied the guy’s hands to the towel rack and shoved a washcloth into his mouth.

  “Sorry about this.”

  He backed out of the bathroom and cracked open the door to the corridor. Peeking out, he saw there was no one there except the maid carts. He placed a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door handle before he exited. Not wasting another second he darted out and double-timed it down the corridor, shouldered the fire escape door and took the stairs two at a time. Within a matter of minutes, he was on the ground floor.

  Isabel was relieved to pull herself away from the woman across the hall who she’d met on the way in. She was a single woman, traveling on business and obviously in desperate need of company as any time Isabel opened the door, she’d open hers. It made her wonder if she was sitting at the peephole checking on her comings and goings. It was very odd.

  A light breeze blew in through the window. She stepped back inside and noticed something that wasn’t there before. Her folder was open. It wasn’t zipped up fully, a piece of paper was sticking out the side. Her eyes went to her phone, then to her luggage. Sure enough it had been moved. Her first thoughts were the maid had been in and had been rooting around. She went over to the door and stepped outside. Looking up and down she saw a maid cart six rooms down. As she was strolling down to it, the maid came out.

  “Um, have you been in my room yet?”

  “No, I have these rooms to do before I get to yours.”

  “Strange. Some of my belongings looked out of place.”

  “Probably your husband.”

  “Husband?”

  “Yeah, he asked me to let him in.”

  A cold shiver ran through her as she reached for her piece. The maid screamed. Moving fast she went back to the room and entered with her gun in her outstretched hands. The first thing she checked was the closet that was closed. She slid back the door and breathed out hard. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she moved through the room checking until she was out on the balcony. She glanced to her right, then her left. That’s when she saw a footprint on the concrete. Dirt had mixed in with it to leave a clear print.

  Bolting out of the room she began banging on the next door. When there was no answer she had the maid let her in. As soon as she was inside she caught the reflection of the guest tied to the towel rack in the washroom. She went in and untied him, pulled the wash cloth out.

  “Where is he?”

  “He left, five minutes ago.”

  She didn’t hang around to listen to the rest of the rant. Isabel dashed out of the room and raced down the corridor to the stairs. She nearly stumbled on her way down. She couldn’t believe it. He’d been in her room. She’d been this close to nabbing him again. Anger gripped her as she kept her gun low and padded down the stairs. At the bottom she burst through the door into the lobby. A few guests shrieked at the sight of the gun.

  “FBI,” she yelled to try and alleviate their fears, not that it helped.

  She dashed outside onto the sidewalk and looked up and down the crowd of people. Her eyes scanned the faces for Jack Winchester, but he was gone. Disappeared again.

  “Shit!” she yelled.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Billy Dixon pulled up in front of the home of Mike Oakley. He was an old friend, both of them had worked together distributing meth long before he went inside and long before he had got involved with Tex. Mike owed him a favor and now it was time to repay. He banged on the door and from inside a guy yelled.

  “Hang on, hang on.”

  A few seconds passed and the door opened. Billy brushed past him not even asking to be let in.

  “Bil
ly, what the hell? I thought you was banged up.”

  “I was.”

  He went into his kitchen and paced around. He was twitching like crazy and scratching at his neck. It felt as if something was crawling under his skin.

  “You got any?”

  He snorted. “Dude, you need to get off that shit.”

  “Just hook me up. I need to talk to you about a few things.”

  Mike frowned. “Follow me.”

  He led him through into a living area that had a giant LED TV on the wall and thick, black leather sofas. On the coffee table in full view were packets of pale blue meth and a few pipes.

  “Help yourself. This is the good shit.”

  “Listen, I need you to do me a big one.”

  Mike sank back into one of his chairs. His dreadlocks hung down loosely over his face as he lit a cigar and blew out a large cloud of grey smoke.

  “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “The hell you do. Or have you forgotten that I bailed you out of that deal that went bad? That was ten grand.”

  “So what, you want ten grand?”

  “Forty.”

  “What the hell?”

  He sat forward in his chair with the cigar resting between his fingers.

  “Call it interest.”

  “Interest? Get the hell out of my place.”

  “Look, I have twenty-four hours left to pay this off or I’m screwed.”

  Mike stared back at him with a look of confusion. “Who the hell have you pissed off?”

  Billy snorted up some of the meth. For a moment his body shook and his eyes rolled back inside his skull, then he got this wild look in his eyes as if his internal battery had just been recharged. He pulled at his nostrils and rested back on the sofa before lighting a cigarette.

  “Damn, that is some fine shit.”

  Billy’s phone buzzed, he took it out and saw that it was Theresa. He ignored it and placed it on the table.

  “Only the best.”

  “You have to be careful. Tex finds out that you’re dealing, he will bring the hammer down on you.”

  “Screw Tex. Guy is full of himself. He can’t corner the market. There is more than enough room.”

  Billy stared back at him blankly.

  “It’s Tex, isn’t it?” Mike asked.

  He nodded.

  Mike brought a fist up to his mouth and sucked in air between his teeth. “Crap, man. I want to help you, but forty G’s? Business is good but not that good. I have to fly under the radar. If I was dealing in that kind of money, he would be all over me.”

  Billy took a hard pull on the cigarette. It glowed a bright orange at the end in the dimly lit room. He glanced around and got up. “How much meth you got on you?”

  “Stacks, man, I just had my guy cook up a large batch that will take us through to next year. You got to see this.”

  Mike rose to his feet and shuffled into the next room, Billy followed. There was a pool table and a bar that had at least sixty bottles of alcohol. Mike went around the side of the bar and reached under it. There was a click and then a wall opened up across the room.

  “Huh! What about that?”

  “Slick.”

  Inside stacked in large clear bags was more than enough meth to put Mike away for the rest of his life. He went inside and picked up a bag and held it up to the light.

  “Look how clear that is. My new guy is a genius. This is the purest you are ever going to see. Tex’s stuff doesn’t even come close to this. I have four guys who are producing this for me. They get forty percent; my take is sixty because I provide them with the ingredients.”

  “And you get that from who?”

  “A supplier.”

  Billy snorted. “Are you sure that’s not Tex?” Billy moved past him and tallied up in his head what he could get for this on the market. His pulse began racing fast. It was more than enough to cover him for what he owed and he could probably come out on top. The cogs in his mind began spinning at the thought of getting out of this situation. He had less than twenty-four hours to settle the score. He could pay back Tex, sell the rest and take Theresa and Ruby away from here. Mike was gloating over his stash when Billy jammed his gun against the back of Mike’s head.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Sorry, Mike, but I don’t have a choice.”

  “I can give you the ten grand if that’s what you want.”

  “It’s not.”

  He knew Mike wouldn’t have given him forty grand, let alone paid him back the ten. That was the nature of this business. People turned on each other fast and it didn’t matter what history you had with others. It was all about the money, staying alive and coming out on top. He pulled the trigger and red mist sprayed back on his face before Mike collapsed on top of the goods. Moving fast, Billy started tossing the bags out. He rolled Mike off the remaining product. How do I get this out of here? His heart was pounding in his chest. The thought of being caught by any of Mike’s guys was sending him into a mild panic attack. He raced upstairs and pulled a sheet off the king size bed. He would use it to create a makeshift sack. He laid it out downstairs and piled the hand-sized bags of meth into the middle of it, then folded up the sides and twisted the ends together. As he tried to pick it up about ten bags fell out. It weighed a ton. Then there was the body. Ah screw him. I just need to get this out. He could probably drag it out but it was going to look suspicious and who knew if anyone was watching. He was going to need a hand and at least four travel cases.

  His mind was racing as he paced back and forth. Occasionally he glanced at Mike’s corpse. Fuck! He didn’t want to kill him but this called for extreme measures. What was that guy’s name? Joe? Jacob? Jack. Jack. That’s it. Maybe he could get him to help. He wanted to help. Now he could.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Isabel was determined to get answers. She was tired of playing games. Arriving at the hospital that morning she had made a point to let the front desk know that she didn’t want to get interrupted. When she opened the door to Theresa’s room, Theresa was up and hobbling back to bed.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’ve told you what I know.”

  “Bullshit. Now you can keep lying and I can have you charged for assisting a known fugitive or you cut that crap and tell me where he is.”

  Theresa slipped back underneath the covers and raised up the back of the bed. Her face while still bruised looked slightly better than it had a day earlier. Isabel took a seat across from her and waited for her to speak.

  “We used to see each other. Back in New York. I moved away from there eight years ago. I was pregnant with his kid,” she said.

  “Did he know?”

  “No.”

  “Is he here because you told him?”

  She shook her head. “No, I figured he must be in trouble. I used to help him where I could. I guess he must have wanted to reconnect. Maybe get back together?”

  “And are you?”

  “No, I’m with someone now.”

  “Who?”

  “Billy Dixon.”

  Isabel pulled out her notepad and jotted down the name. “And his address?”

  She cleared her throat. “He lives with me but he has a trailer that he lets out to a friend of mine. Her name’s Carla.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “She used to work at the same hotel as me until she got fired.”

  “For what?”

  Theresa looked as if she was growing tired of the questions. “Drug use.”

  “So what did Jack want?”

  “He just wanted to see how I was.”

  “Did he give you the address of the hotel he was staying at?”

  She didn’t reply.

  “Theresa. I’m trying to help here.”

  “What, by putting him away?”

  “He’s killed people. We can’t just let him walk away. He has to be brought in and account for what he’s done.”

  She reached across
to her bedside table and grabbed a glass of water. She gulped it down and then placed it back.

  “My daughter’s name is Ruby.”

  “Did he go see her?”

  “Yes.”

  Finally, she was making some progress. “What’s your home address?”

  Theresa blew out her cheeks. She gave it and as Isabel was scribbling it down, she heard a commotion outside. At first she just thought it was an unruly mental health patient. It was common to see security being called in to assist with someone who was getting abusive to the nurses. But then she heard a scream. Isabel rose up from her seat and strode over to the door. She cracked it just a little to see what was going on.

  Stupid security guards never learn. Giovanni had entered the hospital and made it up to the third floor without anyone seeing the Remington 870 Express Magnum that was under his jacket. It hung from a holster strap. Eighteen inches fit nicely beneath the jacket with just the tip of the barrel showing. He had managed to get the front desk to tell him the room number. When the security guard noticed the barrel and drew his weapon, he could have pulled it but instead Giovanni just palmed him in the face three times and tossed him down the stairwell.

  It was only when a nurse saw him do it that the screams started. Of course someone had to be a hero. He gave a warning but the guy didn’t listen. Giovanni spun the shotgun up from underneath his jacket and fired a round into the guy who could have been an American football player by the sheer size of him. He flew back on to a gurney and landed in a heap, bleeding out. Panic ensued as people began running for cover.

  “Shit!” Isabel pulled her weapon and looked back at Theresa. “Get out of bed now.”

  “What?”

  Isabel hadn’t taken her eyes off the man who was coming up the corridor. He forged forward with a confidence that she could tell came from years of experience. Another security guard came into view with his weapon drawn. He gave the assailant a warning but the approaching stranger didn’t listen, he fired several rounds towards the security guard, sending paper and medical devices all over the place. The security guard returned fire, taking cover behind a desk.