The Specter

by Saul, Jonas

  A thought occurred to him. If agents were waiting for him in the gloom of the underground, walking out with a gun in his hand made him a target and he didn’t want to die with a bullet in the face.

  He slipped his weapon in the back of his pants and slid around the corner of the elevator doors into the basement. This was the do or die moment. Either they would take him now or they were too stupid to think he would go to the basement. He wouldn’t put it past them to assume he had no idea they were in the building, that they were smarter than him. As far as he was concerned, the strike team was probably waiting for him to walk out in the lobby to meet his driver to go for breakfast.

  The light from the freight elevator spilled out onto the cracked concrete of the basement parking floor. Small bulbs strung up by their wires lighted the area where cars were parked in dusty rows. He could hear water dripping somewhere to his right. Russian Ladas of all makes made up the majority of the vehicles in the dank lot one floor below street level.

  Two men stepped out from behind cement pillars, firearms raised above their heads, aimed at him.

  “Down on the floor. Now!” one of them ordered in Russian.

  He raised his hands shoulder height and played dumb in his surprise. He responded with the strongest British accent he could muster in the moment. “I’m sorry, you have mistaken me for someone else. I don’t speak Russian …”

  He moved sideways away from the line of fire of the man on the right.

  “Down on the floor. Now!” the man repeated in perfect English.

  “Oh …” Clive feigned fear on his face and raised his hands higher.

  The man to his right talked into a lapel mic in Russian. As far as Clive could tell from the distance of six meters, he was radioing someone to tell them that they had the suspect in custody.

  Oh no you don’t. Not yet.

  “I’m just looking for my car …” Clive said as he shifted to the left hard and dropped behind the boot of a Lada Sputnik.

  A bullet pinged off the rear of the car not one foot from his face. He pulled his gun out, leaned down on the dirty cement floor and shot the foot of the closest man. Reaching for his wound, the man wailed and fell to the cement floor.

  The man who had stood on Clive’s right was now out of sight. Time was short. He had less than a minute before every member of the strike team in the building would rush into the basement.

  He was out of options.

  The freight elevator remained open.

  He shoved his gun away, got to his knees and shouted, “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot. I give up.”

  The man with the foot wound had dragged himself behind a car, leaving a dark trail of blood behind. He could hear whimpering from that direction.

  Clive raised both hands and stood to his full height beside the Lada.

  Then he walked out into the open.

  Chapter 24

  Aaron pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, searching for anything unusual. The sun was setting, the evening lights casting an orange glow over the lot filled with the tenants’ vehicles. He drove the length of the lot twice, passed his own spot and then parked in visitors.

  He turned the Nissan off and waited, listening to the ticking of the hot engine as it cooled from the two-hour drive to Hamilton and back.

  A four-door sedan, the model hard to make out in the dusk, pulled in, drove past him and parked a dozen cars away. The driver got out, laughed and slammed his door. A woman stood from the passenger side and joined him at the trunk where they embraced and shared a long kiss. Hand-in-hand they walked to the side door of the building, used a key and entered.

  Nothing else moved. He understood that the police could be waiting for him, but what scared him more than the police was whoever hunkered in the shadows with murderous intent. Clive sent the two men to the strip club with instructions to murder everyone. The intruder showed up at Julie’s home shortly thereafter. That meant two things. Clive knew where everyone lived and he wouldn’t stop sending hit men until the job was done, and of all the people Clive wanted to remove, Aaron topped the list.

  No amount of training could teach Aaron how to block a bullet. Guns meant no real defense. That’s what scared Aaron.

  Maybe coming to his apartment was a bad idea. He could get clothes elsewhere. He didn’t have a passport or any other real need to go to his apartment. It was only out of habit.

  “Fuck it.”

  He started the car and backed out of the parking spot.

  A large GMC SUV slowed and pulled into the parking lot. Aaron had never memorized all the cars at his building, but he was sure he had never seen the extended SUV before. It drove toward him slowly and passed by.

  He accelerated, hit the road and drove away.

  Three blocks later, the headlights of an SUV appeared behind him.

  “No way …”

  How could they work that fast? If they did, and it was the guy with the missing eye or some other hit man, there was no way to outsmart them. Clive just had too much money. Folley couldn’t fly over to Russia and arrest the man.

  Aaron drove faster, then slower. He took two unnecessary rights and then three lefts. The SUV stayed with him at least two car lengths back.

  Unless he wanted to hit the highway and try to outrun the SUV, he wasn’t going to lose the tail. His stomach rebelled. He had lost his fear of confrontation years ago at sparring matches and tournaments. He was perpetually ready for and willing to fight if needed, but hired hit men with guns was real life and death, and that scared him.

  The only way to lose the tail would be to meet up with Daniel and the Russell brothers and take them to another meeting spot.

  He turned onto the 427 heading south toward Toronto’s International Airport and the Quality Suites. He hoped Alex had checked in as he had directed.

  The SUV stayed with him, accelerating without trouble on the busy highway.

  A part of him wanted to slam on the brakes and have the SUV ram his back bumper, lose control and crash in a ball of flame on the side of the highway. Maybe the way to deal with these kinds of people was how they dealt with things: with extreme prejudice and over-the-top violence.

  But that would put innocent lives at risk and he wouldn’t do that, which was the problem with the scale. It weighed heavily in their favor. They didn’t care who got hurt to take down their target, while the good guy had to stay alive with minimal damage to himself and his surroundings.

  Aaron watched his mirrors and kept his speed under control. He took the exit ramp to the airport. It turned into Dixon Road near the hotel, but he forgot exactly where.

  The SUV followed without pause. The driver couldn’t be more obvious. Aaron had no doubt what was happening. His would-be executioner was driving the vehicle behind him, waiting for his prey to place himself unknowingly into his sights where he would pull the trigger and send Aaron to see his sister.

  The only way to get out of the target range of the unlimited supply of hit men was to kill Clive. He couldn’t believe he would even think that way, but the circumstances called for it. Within one or two more attacks, it would be Aaron who would lose. He would get stung by bee after bee until he succumbed unless he could find a way to get to the queen bee and destroy the hive. A seemingly impossible task, but he had to try.

  He turned left onto Carlingview Drive and immediately turned left again, pulling into the front of the Quality Suites. He backed into a spot a few down from the main doors and jogged into the lobby before the SUV turned in. Over his shoulder, the large vehicle lumbered into the parking lot, raced across and screeched to a stop beside his car.

  “Can I help you?” the man behind the counter asked with a genuine smile.

  “Alex Russell would’ve left a message for me. My name is Aaron Stevens.”

  The SUV’s doors were just shutting.

  “Ahh, yes, he said to give you this.”

  The clerk handed him a folded piece of paper. Aaron opened it to read room
number 432. He handed it back to the clerk.

  “Men are coming in behind me. Give them this paper.” Aaron backed away and jogged down the short hall for the elevators. An older couple were waiting for the elevator, the light red lit up around the button. The elevator descended to the second floor on its way to the first.

  Aaron moved behind the couple to block the view from the front lobby door. The doors slid open and the intruder from Julie’s house stepped into view, a large white bandage taped across his left eye.

  Holy shit!

  Three burly men followed him in.

  The elevator doors opened. People filed out. Aaron followed the couple on. Before entering, head down, he took one more look at the intruder, who scanned the lobby as he approached the front desk.

  The elevator doors closed. The couple had pressed the seventh floor. Aaron pressed the number two. Room 432 actually meant room 234. The spy novel reference Alex would’ve known was to switch the number. It was something Alex read over a year ago in a novel and talked about for months with Aaron, covering all the details of being in an action adventure. Alex lived this fantasy life through video games and novels. Aaron knew that if they were checking into a hotel, there was almost no doubt Alex would leave a note with the room numbers reversed.

  Aaron jumped off when the elevator stopped on the second floor. He hustled down the hall to room 234 and rapped on the door hard.

  “Who’s there?” Daniel’s voice.

  “It’s me, Aaron. Open up.”

  “Come on in,” Daniel said as he opened the door. “The gang’s all here.”

  “We have to leave. Now. I was followed here. There’s four guys in the lobby and they aren’t here to have tea with us. We have maybe one minute. No doubt they’re on their way to the fourth floor, thanks to Alex. Guys, gather your things. We’ll take the stairs and use my car. Let’s go.”

  “What’s going on?” Daniel asked as Alex and Benjamin walked up behind him.

  “No time to explain. We have to move.” Aaron rushed down the hall, but paused when none of the three followed him. “What’s up, guys? We gotta go.”

  “Maybe this is too big a fight, Aaron,” Benjamin said. “Can’t the police handle it …” he broke off when Aaron stepped inside their comfort zone.

  His face tightened. “My sister was murdered. The man responsible has four men in this hotel looking to kill me. I had a gun,” he pointed a finger at his temple, “placed here hours ago. I’m lucky to be alive. After talking to the police, there isn’t much they can do. The bad guy lives in Russia. Basically, I’m a walking dead man. I will not go down without a fight as it is my life we’re talking about now and not just Joanne’s. I want you three on my side. If this is too much, stay here for the night and then go home. I’ll understand. But if you’re with me, follow me now because I need you guys.”

  Aaron leaned on the door’s trim. Precious time ticked by. His pursuers would be on the fourth floor by now and realize they’d been duped. They would either return to Aaron’s car or wait for him in the lobby. Perhaps they saw the elevator stop on the second floor and not the fourth. Or maybe they were already by his car, waiting.

  Shit! I should have pushed the fourth floor button.

  Aaron dipped his head out the door and looked down the hall in both directions. Still empty.

  When he looked back at his students, his friends, they weren’t coming. He should have expected it. This was bigger than training in the martial arts. This was international murder, assassins and real-life violence. People had been killed and could be killed. How could he expect anyone to join him on his personal crusade? It was a dream of his that the best fighters of his dojo would join him in the biggest fight for justice of his life, but he could see by the expressions on their faces and the tension that suddenly filled the air, they weren’t coming.

  “It’s okay, guys. Forget it.”

  Aaron moved into the corridor, followed by Alex. He wasn’t coming along, just wanting to wish him well.

  Aaron ran to the end of the hall and opened the stairwell door. Alex waved to wish him well. Aaron waved back.

  “Thanks,” he said loud enough for Alex to hear and then disappeared behind the door.

  He felt let down, saddened by this turn of events. He actually thought the four of them could chase Clive Baron to the ends of the earth and beyond as a team.

  His friends hadn’t let him down, but he felt let down just the same. They had every right to deny his request to join his fight. Alex worked at Taco Bell and was saving his money to open his own franchise. Daniel and Benjamin worked at a factory in Etobicoke on forklifts. They were great fighters, the best, but they were Toronto boys, waiting for the weekend and the next beer with buddies, not a fight with the next international criminal gang.

  Aaron hit the first floor landing and almost laughed. He was running for his life and needed to pay someone back for the hotel room, whether in trade with private lessons or cash, depending on who paid for the room. Alex would take payment in lessons, but the forklift drivers were always short on cash.

  He slowly opened the door to the lobby. Nothing threatening or suspicious. He slipped out of the stairwell, across the open lobby and made it to the main doors before he stopped.

  No sight of his pursuers. He assumed they were still on the fourth floor or on their way back down to the lobby. They wouldn’t know where his friends were and after he left, they wouldn’t be able to follow him as he didn’t even know where he was headed.

  Maybe back to the police station or maybe he’d contact Julie. He felt directionless. There was nothing he could do, and he had no idea where to go to do it.

  Clive Baron had to be his next task. Find him, get to him and end this nightmare. But how?

  The night air had cooled. Several cars down, a man fumbled with his keys by a four-door Cadillac while holding a piece of luggage over his shoulder. On a bench by the walkway, a woman held a cup of coffee and puffed on a cigarette. No one else was in the immediate area. He crossed toward his Nissan and pushed the button to unlock the doors. The familiar beep sounded.

  As he opened the car door, he caught a shadow behind him. He raised an arm to block the sudden movement to his right. He screamed in pain as a steel pipe broke his wrist on impact.

  The pipe came down again.

  Aaron collapsed to the cement, silenced.

  Chapter 25

  Clive stood in the space between the Lada and the open elevator doors. The other strike team gunman, covered in body armor and helmet, poised behind a cement pillar.

  “I’m done. You’ve got me,” Clive said as he sidestepped as if dazed.

  “Stay where you are.” The gunman moved from behind the pillar only far enough to keep his weapon trained on Clive.

  Clive pretended to have weak legs, stumbling to his right so as to move closer to the open elevator door, but the gunman caught the movement.

  “Drop to the floor. Do it now! Hands over your head.”

  Clive stepped sideways once more, knowing he was pushing the guy to shoot him. If he got shot, it was all over.

  “I’ve got a detonator,” Clive shouted. “Don’t shoot. The whole building could blow. Let me throw it to you first. I don’t want to die,” he said in his most convincing voice.

  “Last chance. On the ground, now!”

  “I can’t,” he shouted back. “The detonator is in my pocket. I’ll just get it out first.” Clive lowered his hand and touched the top of his jeans pocket. He nodded toward the shooter. “It’s okay. Just getting it out. Once I toss it toward you, I can get on the ground. If this button is pushed, we’ll all die.”

  He wondered if the strike team member was buying his story. He probably didn’t, but he hadn’t shot yet, which was what Clive was bargaining for. The man also knew that dozens of his friends were on their way down to the parking level to back him up.

  “Shoot him,” the wounded man called from the left.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I
were you. The button can be pushed quite easily.”

  Clive reached inside his pocket and grabbed his room key. He slowly lifted it to the edge of his pocket. The open door to the elevator was still six feet away.

  “Once I will toss it to you, I will get on the ground.”

  A door opened somewhere to his right. Another door. The shuffling footsteps of dozens of men filed into the basement parking area.

  He pulled the room key out completely. Behind the shooter, men rolled into the basement parking area in waves and dropped behind cars.

  He tossed the key toward the shooter, took two large steps to his right and dove for the open elevator, punching the button for the third floor. A weapon discharged. Then another. A bullet ricocheted above his head. How many men were coming toward the open doors, he had no idea.