by Ron Sewell
“I’m well paid by this company and here in Corsica they allow me plenty of leeway.” The money vanished.
At the tenth hotel, the old man at reception told him Valerie Webster had united with her companion two days ago.
Omar smiled, shook the man’s hand and gave him a hundred dollar note. “You’re a saint. I will be back this afternoon with the package and no one will know of the delay. What room did you say?”
“Room three-two-two, but you can drop the package here and one of the staff will take it to her.”
“Door to door, my friend. If I place it in her hands and she signs my form, I will have done my job.”
The old man nodded. “You are a conscientious workman.”
“I do my best.” He scampered away.
Delighted, he strolled through the back streets until he found a cafe. He sat at a corner table. A girl who smelt of soap and shampoo approached. In English, he asked for three hard-boiled eggs, toast and a pot of coffee. She wrote his order and departed.
He sat back and glanced around his surroundings. Not one of the customers showed any interest in him. Here he was free to let his mind wander. His concept of time was different to others, for him waiting was easy. I can let my mind empty and enjoy the peace. Later, after I kill the infidel woman, the rush of adrenalin will come.
The girl placed his food, coffee and the bill on the table. He did not bother to check it and handed her twenty dollars.
He waved her away when she came back with his change.
He made short work of the meal, but while he sipped his coffee an idea came to him; buy this Valerie a bouquet of lilies. He beckoned the girl. She dropped her gaze before strolling to his table.
He smiled. “I have to buy flowers for a friend.”
She understood, pointed along the road and held up her hand. “The third strada to the left.”
He nodded and said, “Grazie.”
***
There was no one at reception when Omar entered the hotel with a bouquet of lilies. He slipped into the lift and pressed the button for the third floor. Room three, two, two was at the far end of the corridor.
He knocked on the door.
The door opened wide. “Yes,” said Linda. Omar glanced at the card attached to the flowers.
“Valerie Webster?”
“That’s me.”
“Compliments of the hotel.” He handed the flowers
to her.
Linda eyed him warily. “Why?”
Omar shrugged. “Reception told me to deliver them
to this room. I t’s not my place to ask why.”
“I must let you go back to work. Thank you.” Omar grinned and strolled along the corridor to the
emergency exit.
***
Linda sat for a long time staring at the flowers before she
contacted reception.
“Maria speaking, Ms Webster?”
“I’d like to thank the manager for the flowers
delivered to my room.”
“Flowers, Ms Webster?”
“Your delivery boy told me they were with the
compliments of the hotel.”
“We sometimes present a bottle of champagne for a special event. You know, birthdays or a significant anniversary but we never offer flowers. They have special meanings.” “I have a bouquet of lilies in my room that must have cost a fortune.”
“You must have a secret admirer, madam.” A twinge of panic struck her. “So secret I have never seen him. Thank you.” She placed the handset into the cradle. “Natalia, pack your bags, we’re leaving.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“The hotel knows nothing about those flowers. White lilies lay on the top of coffins at funerals. I don’t intend to find out if it’s mine. Get packed, we’re out of here.”
“Don’t be silly, no one can find you here.”
“Someone has, but who the hell found out about Valerie Webster? That name is days’ old. Pack an overnight bag. I’ll buy whatever when we arrive on the mainland.” In ten minutes, they packed overnight bags, dressed and prepared to flee.
Linda pulled the curtains allowing sunlight to flood the room. She leant on the sill and peered out of the window. Tourists strolled along the sea front. On the pavement below a man with a silver painted face stood frozen as a human statue. “We’ll leave by the back door.”
Natalia grimaced. "So long as you're by my side, the world can fuck itself."
“You read my mind. Ready?”
Natalia picked up her bag and nodded.
With Linda leading, they left their room and walked fast along the corridor. At the far end, Linda opened the fire escape door, shutting it behind them. At speed, they descended the bare concrete stairs. At the bottom, Linda stopped Natalia from opening the door. She lifted the black fire extinguisher and smashed the wall light plunging the stairwell into darkness.
“You never know who might be on the other side,” she whispered. With care, she opened the door. Its well-oiled hinges made no sound. She peered through the gap into the underground garage. It was empty.
She grabbed Natalia as they moved fast up a short
stairway and into the gardens.
***
Omar, his eyes alight with excitement sat astride his
motorbike, reasoned this woman was no fool and bided his
time. This was an important mission. He cocked his head and
chuckled when he saw his target and another women dashing
across the hotel garden, Valerie’s purple hair floated in the
wind. He did not know the other woman. If she died, it was
of no importance.
The pistol by his side was black with a long muzzle
and he allowed his finger to curl around the trigger. When his
target approached his firing zone, he prepared to take the
shot.
A shot rang out, the bullet striking Omar behind his
right ear. Disbelief radiated from his eyes. He did not
understand he was dead. Blood trickled from his lips. His eyes
stared up at the clear blue sky though he could not see a thing. Linda gripped Natalia and hid behind the trunk of a
tall tree.
The uniformed police officer stood on the corner
speaking into his radio. In his right hand, he held a Berretta
pistol.
Linda gazed through a gap in the bush. An old
woman approached the police officer. She stood tall and slim,
her short grey hair neat and tidy. A dab of make-up gave
colour to her face except for her cherry red lips. She pointed at the man on the ground and nodded as the police officer wrote in his notebook.
The wail of a siren filled the air as an ambulance arrived.
Linda turned to Natalia. “The dead guy is the flower delivery man. That nosey old woman must have seen his gun and contacted the police. I loved the film Dirty Harry. Not once did he take a chance with the bad guy. He shot the bastard.”
“Can we go back to our room?” asked Natalia. “We go back and pack our bags. If there’s one assassin, there could be two. Time we left.”
“Where are we going?”
“Wherever you wish.”
The police officer stood over the body and gave it a hefty kick. With a gloved hand, he lifted the weapon and fired into a tree behind him. He beckoned to the old women. “You saw him point his gun at me and I had no choice but to fire.” With a wide grin filling his face, he held his notebook in his left hand. “Madam, please tell me your name, why you contacted the police and what you saw?”
33
Khaled stood on the stern of Desert Wind and waved to Rono, Anna and Eric as Mohammed steered her out of the harbour.
“I’ll miss them,” said Rono. “I’m more than pleased Khaled is well enough to travel,” said Anna.
Eric flashed a grin. “Florence Nightingale you’re not b
ut by removing that rubbish from his back you helped.”
“The wonders of vodka,” said Anna.
It was a warm day, and many tourists were strolling along the jetty. They waited until Desert Wind was out of sight before they walked away.
“There endeth the lesson,” said Rono.
Anna threw her head back and laughed. “What do you mean?”
“We did the business and can go back to our masters.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” said Eric smiling.
Rono fumbled for his cigarettes, pulled one from the packet and tossed it in a bin. “You’re joking.”
“Never underestimate Fred. He’s given us a taste of black ops. We survived when we could have ended up dead. Why that woman missed with the RPG, we’ll never understand. Do you want to go back to your previous life?”
Rono shook his head. “Not really.”
“Is there another job?” asked Anna.
Eric raised an eyebrow. “There’s always another job.”
Rono grinned. “What you’re telling us is the man who pays our wages prefers his operations to stay secret. Headlines in the nationals do no one any favours.”
Eric rubbed his hands together. “I’m going to find a few ducks to talk to and after, phone my wife. I’ll see you at dinner in the hotel tonight. Half seven for eight.” He smiled and ambled away, blending into the crowd.
Anna glanced at Rono. “It’s me and you.”
They entered a cafe on the sea front. For a while they stared out of the window and sipped their coffee.
Rono turned and glanced at the fifty-inch television screen secured on the far wall. The newscaster reported street fighting between different militia in the centre of Tripoli. The next image was that of the Minister of Defence. He appeared smarter than when Rono last saw him. His face was full of smiles but if you looked hard, his expression was serious. “That’s fucking David.”
Anna followed his gaze to the screen. “Who?”
He shrugged. “I’ve met the Minister of Defence. If you get on the wrong side of him, you disappear forever.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve worked for people like that.”
Rono lifted a plastic menu card from its holder. “I fancy a triple cheeseburger. What are you going to eat?”
“You don’t enjoy eating that factory produced muck, do you?”
“Love it.”
“I’m going window-shopping. See you back at the hotel.”
Rono sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Have fun.”
***
Anna and Rono stepped out of the lift and strolled into the dining room. Eric was working his way through a large glass of red wine.
“You look as if you have the troubles of the world on your shoulders,” said Rono. He spoke the words with passion as he pulled out a chair for Anna.
Eric paused. “Fred tells me there’s a job where we will have to operate in countries without authorization.”
“So what’s new?” said Rono.
Eric took a deep breath, steepled his fingers and talked. “You said it yourself, Rono. Thousands of refugees are arriving in Europe. The question is how many are terrorists? Your next job is to become a refugee, live in the camps, and find the rotten apples. Anna, you will be on the outside and collate Rono’s information.
“At the right time there will be a disturbance in the camp and the ringleaders will die. You will then locate to another camp. Have you any questions?”
Rono and Anna exchanged looks.
“Sounds straight forward.”
“What’s your answer? What will I tell Fred?”
“When do we leave?”
Eric frowned. “Anna?”
“I’ll watch Rono’s back.”
“You start next week, mainland Italy. Enjoy your meal, Rono. Next week you’ll be lucky to eat.”
“I’m glad I had that triple cheeseburger.”