by Saul, Jonas
Paranoia settled over him. What if he was being watched right now?
He turned to the five men attending the evening’s performance and motioned with the hammer.
“Which one of you went to the hotel in Toronto with Nick?”
One of the men outside the window raised a hand like he was in school. “It was me.”
“Come in and tell me what happened.”
The man nodded and moved away from the window. He eased past the other men and moved closer to Clive. “Nick followed him,” he nodded toward Aaron, “and when we saw him run into the hotel, all four of us followed. Nick talked to the clerk at the front desk and then he told me to wait behind Aaron’s car in case they missed him in the hotel. If anything went wrong, I was supposed to grab Aaron and drive him immediately to the Island Airport where I would find a plane waiting to bring Aaron here.”
“Why did you come alone?” Clive asked. “Did something go wrong?”
The man nodded.
“Can you be more specific?” Clive could tell his guard thought he did the right thing, but while under the stress of interrogation, he was shaking like a paint mixer.
“I broke Aaron’s wrist and knocked him out. After shoving him into the back of his car, someone on the second floor of the hotel opened their room window and shouted at me to stop. I saw at least two different men, young men, stick their heads out. Since I thought we had been made, I decided to deliver Aaron to the airport immediately.”
“You did good. You did the right thing. Now go and do a perimeter check. Make sure we’re alone. If Aaron had people waiting at the hotel to help him, maybe he has people watching us right now.” He motioned to the men to go, and then he pointed at the guy who brought him Aaron. “You stay behind and watch the door. Have your weapons out, safeties off.”
The men nodded and moved away, disappearing in the darkness.
“Tell me what you know, Mr. Stevens. I’m serious now. I want to know who you work for.”
Aaron slowly met Clive’s gaze. “The agency I work for has everything they need on you. We know about the vodka. We know about the murders. Only the best men to come out of our facility are hunting you right now. Clive Baron, you will pay for your crimes whether I live or die. That was my mission. To live or die bringing you in, and I accepted it with honor.” He spit to clear the saliva building up around his teeth. “I’m just surprised you sent such amateurs after me, like those two at the strip club and the hit man that followed me to the hotel. Come on, I thought you had more money than that.” Aaron turned away and mumbled something else.
Clive didn’t believe a word Aaron was saying, yet it all made sense. Jackson and Hugh were ex-Mossad. They were two of the best men at hand-to-hand combat and guerrilla warfare he’d ever met. Yet Aaron fell Hugh with one hit, according to the call Jackson made days ago after picking Gary Weeks up.
Nick Sturnam was a career sniper and hit man, yet Nick was dead and Jackson and Hugh were in a Toronto jail. Aaron sat in front of him, still alive.
He had to think. He moved to the table out of Aaron’s view. What organization would have Aaron as an employee? Was it an international group or the Canadian Joint Task Force 2? He knew the JTF2 were an elite special force primarily tasked with counterterrorism operations. One of the best special operations forces in the world, they were known to work internationally with Britain’s Special Air Service, Poland’s GROM, and America’s Delta Force. He’d heard many good things about the JTF2, but most of what they did was highly classified and even with his numerous contacts, Clive didn’t know much about them.
“What did you mumble a moment ago?” Clive asked.
“Nothing.”
Clive’s patience had waned. He moved behind Aaron, lifted the hammer and brought it down on Aaron’s unbroken hand. It snapped sideways. The bones broke loud enough to hear, music to Clive’s ears. Now Aaron could only walk on one foot and he couldn’t use either hand. Within the next few minutes, unless Aaron answered questions to Clive’s satisfaction, he would never walk again. A hammer could do wonders on Aaron’s spine.
I’ll break a bunch of vertebrae and we’ll see who has the last laugh.
“No more playing games. Answer me seriously or you will be a broken pile of bones within minutes.”
Aaron’s screams subsided when he passed out again.
“Shit.”
He grabbed the bottle of water, opened it and poured it over Aaron’s head. He didn’t stir.
“Smelling salts,” a voice said behind him.
Clive’s man pointed toward the table.
“Right.” Clive retrieved the smelling salts and waved them under Aaron’s nose. Aaron snapped his head back, moaning.
“And, we’re back.” Clive clapped his hands. “Now, what did you say under your breath?”
Aaron struggled with the ropes.
“Impressive, but you won’t be able to escape. Just answer my questions.”
“I said, fucking amateur.”
Clive guffawed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m the amateur? Who is sitting tied up in the chair? Who has numerous broken bones—”
Gunfire cut him off, followed by another weapon being fired. Then two more in rapid succession.
Clive ducked as if bullets flew above his head. “What the fuck is happening?” he shouted at the guard by the door. “Go find out.”
“But sir … leave you alone in here?”
“Go. I’m armed. Report back at once.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard jumped past the door and was swallowed by the dark.
“Is that your rescue team?” he asked Aaron.
Aaron nodded.
“If anyone tries to come through that door I will execute you. They will have no one to save.”
Clive moved around behind Aaron and waited, listening. After what seemed like a full minute, another weapon discharged and then another. Clive jumped each time.
He had been close to death for many years. Death that he caused with his own hands. But men shooting at him always made him mess his shorts. He hated the thought of a stray bullet punching through his leg, or worse, his chest.
A man screamed in the dark outside the room somewhere to the right. Sweat trickled down Clive’s back. He wiped his forehead.
Why is everything falling apart? Where did I go wrong?
He picked up his cell phone from the table and called his driver.
“Come to the entrance and pick me up in five minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
He hung up and listened to the still night. He heard nothing except for the soft murmurs from Aaron.
Something moved in the darkness outside the door.
“Hello?” Clive waited a heartbeat. “Anybody there?”
Silence filled the cavernous room other than the fan still blowing. Clive couldn’t take it anymore. He turned the fan off and moved to the wall beside the door, resting his shoulder against it. He heard nothing coming from the outside.
From this distance, it looked like Aaron was fighting to stay awake.
Clive lifted his gun and aimed it at Aaron.
“You have caused me too much trouble. I will probably have to spend the next half a year fixing all the shit you’ve done. That’s going to cost me a lot of money, but it will be money I still have because no one will know my secret. No one will ever know my secret.” He placed both hands on the weapon to better his aim. “Goodbye, Aaron Stevens. Say hello to your whore of a sister when you see her.”
Clive fired his weapon, the bullet entering Aaron’s lower chest near the bottom of the ribcage. He adjusted his aim higher and fired again. This time a small circle formed near the center of Aaron’s pectoral muscle, just below the left collarbone.
Aaron’s body jerked with each hit and then his head slumped down impossibly low. From where Clive stood, it didn’t appear Aaron was breathing.
Outside, in the warm night, he made way to his car, which would take him to a private hotel. H
e would plan his escape to another country where extradition proved difficult and spend six months working out any issues these recent events had caused.
But first he needed to get out of Palamidi. He had no idea who his men were shooting at, or if another strike team was advancing on Palamidi. In the darkness under the crescent moon, he couldn’t tell where anyone was.
He stayed close to the stone wall and moved slowly so as not to catch anyone’s eye. When he made it to the main door without interruption, he knew he was seconds from being home free.
Palamidi remained silent. He couldn’t hear the waves of the Aegean Sea two hundred meters below. Nothing moved. It was like his men had disappeared.
Maybe they had silenced the aggressors and headed back to the bastion where he held Aaron. He had no idea what had happened and no way to find out in the dark. Aaron Stevens was dead. That was all he cared about. Regrettably, he had wanted more time with Aaron, but the deed was done. It was time to move on, finish cleaning up the mess in Toronto and get back to handling day-to-day business.
Past the main doors, he made sure his feet came down quietly on the concrete. The Mercedes idled quietly twenty feet in front of him, the lights out.
Was the attack only on the inside of Palamidi tonight, or was his car compromised? The only way to find out if the car was compromised was to walk up and check.
He raised his weapon and walked toward the car. He moved along the side and aimed the gun at the driver.
It was the same driver as before. The driver jumped in his seat and dropped the paperback he’d been reading, raising his hands.
Clive lowered the weapon to his side and told the man to drop the window.
“Nerves got the better of me. You ready?” Clive asked.
The driver nodded.
Clive got in the back.
“Let’s go.”
The driver started down the road. Clive set the gun beside him in the seat and wiped his face with both hands. He would have to send a cleanup crew to Palamidi tomorrow to remove all trace of his presence. He only had the fortress for another day and he had no idea how many men lay dead back there.
The Mercedes moved slowly down the winding road along the hillside overlooking Nafplio. Clive breathed a sigh of relief at the shining lights of the city below.
It was over. All he had to do was clean up. That wouldn’t be so bad. He’d made it.
He leaned back, breathing easier.
A rock the size of a huge brick smashed into the windshield so suddenly Clive didn’t have time to register what it was. At the same time, a crazed man ran into the road from the right carrying another rock over his head.
The driver hit the brakes and swerved hard to the left. The Mercedes went airborne, 150 meters above Nafplio. No guardrail stopped the car, no trees slowed its descent.
The Mercedes tumbled over and over as it fell, first breaking Clive’s legs and then arms as he was tossed about like he was in a washing machine. The driver’s screams ceased after the fifth rotation.
Clive’s neck snapped on the sixth rotation, ceasing his screams too.
Chapter 28
Aaron woke to a bright light. He kept his eyes closed, but the light invaded his eyelids. He tried to turn his head, but was rewarded with shouting.
Numerous people surrounded him. He could feel it. He could also feel pain.
“… more anesthetic, get me more anesthetic …” a man’s voice shouted from far away.
Aaron faded, losing the light, losing the sounds of the people.
He faded.
Then he was gone.
Movement close. Aaron detected someone close.
Defense mechanisms forced his eyes open fast. He slammed them shut as the light stung.
He moaned. He couldn’t move. Every slight adjustment caused pain.
Someone spoke, but he hadn’t paid attention. He listened again.
“How are you feeling?”
Aaron tried to open his eyes to a slit. The room came into focus slowly.
A hospital room. Dark blue walls. Concrete. Not modern. Tubes and wires hung over his head.
A man in a lab coat appeared.
“How are you feeling?”
Aaron tried to answer, but his throat was parched. The man in the lab coat disappeared. He heard water running or being poured. The man came back into view, a glass of water in his hands, a straw bent toward Aaron’s mouth.
“Here, try some of this …”
Aaron opened his cracked lips and winced.
How long have I been out?
He sipped the water and almost choked. After getting the first few sips down, it became easier.
The man didn’t answer him. He must’ve said it in his head.
“How long …” he stopped. His voice was huskier, darker. He didn’t recognize it.
“Take it easy.” The man placed the water out of sight. “We have plenty of time to talk. You’ve been beat up pretty bad, but you’re on the mend now.” He smiled. “You’re a fighter, you know that?”
“Where … am I?”
“In a hospital in Nafplio, Greece.”
A beeping increased from somewhere in the room as his heart rate sped up.
“Stay calm. It’s all okay now. There’s no threat here.”
The beeping leveled after a moment and slowed again.
Aaron’s eyes adjusted to the light. He tried to take more of the room in but his chest was secured to the bed in some way. None of his limbs responded except for his right leg which wasn’t tied down.
“What happened?”
“You’re going to be all right, but it’ll take time. Your hands will heal well. We fixed both breaks in the wrists and wired and casted them. In a few months, they’ll be back to 99 percent. Your left foot has also been repaired and casted, but I don’t see you walking on it for a few months.”
The doctor paused, a grim expression crossing his face.
“What?” Aaron asked.
“It wasn’t the breaks that concerned me. It was the two gunshot wounds.”
Aaron blinked slow and deep, tired of talking already.
The doctor continued. “One of the bullets entered through your pectoral muscle, passed through your rib cage, missed everything important and exited out your back, south of your shoulder blade. The exit wound took some patching, but you won’t be pitching any baseball games for a year at least.”
Aaron closed his eyes. He’d never had wounds so extensive before. The worst were a few broken fingers in competitions years ago when he was still learning the martial arts, but that was it.
“The other bullet was just under your ribcage. The problem with that one is it grazed your stomach and ruptured your spleen. The spleen helps rid your body of bacterial infections. We’re monitoring every few hours.” The doctor stopped and grabbed a clipboard from somewhere at the end of the bed. “Other than that, you’re a specimen of perfect health,” he announced.
Aaron opened and closed his heavy eyelids. Sleep called him. He didn’t have the energy to ask any more questions even though he wanted to know what happened on Palamidi, and what happened to Clive Baron. Were the police looking for Aaron, showing up in a foreign hospital without a passport, beaten up, broken and shot?
The doctor spoke as Aaron faded in and out.
“Your friends are here. They just went out for lunch. I’ll have them come by and tell you what they know …”
Friends? What friends? The police? Clive’s men?
Aaron fought sleep. He needed to know who his friends were. But there was nothing he could do. Sleep enveloped him, wrapped his wounded body in a tight blanket and drifted him off to nothingness for ten more hours.
Alex’s voice. Then Benjamin’s and finally Daniel’s. They were talking money. Who would pay back who and when.
Aaron came back to consciousness listening to them debate the point.
“I’ll pay it,” Aaron said. “Just be quiet …”
He opened his e
yes, squinted until his three friends came into focus. “Water?”
“Here, drink this,” Daniel said.
After he got some moisture in his throat again, the doctor visited for a brief moment, asked a few routine questions, and then left the four of them to talk.