The Thin Black Line

by Simon Gervais

  “He’s fine, boys,” Taylor barked at his bodyguards. “Don’t you recognize your old friend?”

  The bodyguards let Alavi pass, and two of them greeted him.

  “Major, it’s good to see you again,” said Alavi, embracing the man he was supposed to kill.

  While Taylor was patting him on the back, Alavi surreptitiously observed the bodyguards. He had been right: only one of them was even looking in his direction, while two others had already retreated outside. The last bodyguard was standing a dozen feet away, keeping an eye on the hotel guests and the one employee in sight.

  “I’ve traveled far to see you, old friend.”

  “Thank you, Major. Someone important wanted to thank you personally for everything you’ve contributed to our efforts over the last few years.”

  “I was well compensated,” said Taylor.

  “Indeed you were. But we believe that our relationship with our greatest African ally should grow even more,” said Alavi, carefully selecting his words. “Why don’t we go up to my room to discuss this privately? I have some refreshments that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

  “Excellent idea,” answered Taylor.

  Alavi was glad to see that all four bodyguards were now forming a loose square around him and the major. If they remembered Al-Nashwan’s training, two would check out Alavi’s room before allowing their boss inside, and the other two would stay outside the door after their boss had entered.

  The hotel’s marble hallways were narrow, and some parts were slippery from puddles of water, presumably from guests returning to their rooms still wet from the earlier rain shower or their swim in the pool. Alavi made a mental note to be careful once he and Al-Nashwan sprang into action, for a fall would definitely break their momentum.

  ―

  The man with the black suit looked like he was about to leave when someone Mike recognized as Mohammad Alavi appeared.

  “Wait,” Mike said to Lisa, who was on her way to have a “chat” with the drivers. “Mohammad Alavi just walked into the lobby.”

  His wife approached him and watched what was going on through the small window. “They seem to know each other. They wouldn’t embrace each other like that if they didn’t,” she observed. “Even two of the bodyguards shook his hand.”

  Mike’s brain was working in overdrive to find a solution that would allow them to learn where Alavi’s room was located while remaining unseen.

  “They’re leaving the lobby,” Lisa announced.

  “As soon as they’re gone, I’ll enter the lobby,” explained Mike, looking at a map of the hotel he had found attached to the wall next to him. “There’s an elevator down this way.” Mike pointed out the area to Lisa before continuing. “There’s also an emergency staircase at the end of the same corridor.”

  “Yeah, I see it,” Lisa confirmed. “If you can tell me which floor they’re headed to, I can take the stairs and wait for you there.”

  “All right. Stay here until I can call the floor. Then we’ll have to move fast.”

  Lisa nodded and Mike exited the kitchen. There was only one employee present in the lobby, and he didn’t make an effort to look at Mike. The lobby wasn’t big, so Mike crossed it in no time. He was about to enter the corridor leading to the elevator when he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks.

  He quickly turned around, confident no one had seen his hesitation.

  “Lisa, I believe Alavi’s room is right next to the lobby. Two of the bodyguards went in, and two others stayed behind with the VIP,” Mike whispered through their communication system.

  “You want me to join you?”

  “Negative. The VIP just went in the room, and now three bodyguards are stationed outside there.”

  “I’m looking at the map of the hotel, Mike,” Lisa said moments later. “I suggest I go back outside to see if I can observe what’s going on inside the room.”

  “Do it, Lisa,” Mike replied. “Check on the guy I put down earlier as well. I don’t want him to cause any fuss.”

  “Will do.”

  Using a sports magazine he’d found on one of the lobby coffee tables, Mike positioned himself in such a manner that he could keep a watch on Alavi’s hotel door. Soon enough, the door opened and someone handed water bottles to the guards.

  They’re holding a meeting in this room. We know Alavi is present. There is at least one other member engaged in providing security if we take into consideration the sniper. What else? Who’s this guy with the bodyguards? How can we take them down?

  His thoughts were interrupted by Lisa’s voice in his ear. “The man is still out cold, but I can’t see inside the room. The angle isn’t right.”

  “Roger that. Stay put—holy fuck!” shouted Mike inadvertently as two of the three bodyguards went down in a pool of blood. “Someone’s attacking the guards,” continued Mike, reaching for his gun. “Shit. It’s Alexander Shamrock.”

  ―

  As the party reached Alavi’s room, two bodyguards went in first, just as Alavi had predicted. A few seconds later, they received the all-clear signal, and Alavi led his guest into the room. Only one guard remained inside with them, and the other three took up posts in the hallway.

  “Would you like juice or soda? Or maybe something stronger?” asked Alavi.

  “What do you have on hand?”

  “Would a rum and coke be satisfactory?”

  “Ha! I see that you remember my tastes, Mohammad.”

  Alavi remembered well. Major Taylor’s version of rum and coke was like no other. Back when Alavi was still Taylor’s adjutant, he had many occasions to witness the major pouring rum over a gram or two of cocaine.

  “But let’s conduct our business first,” added Taylor. “Then we party, yes?”

  “Bottled water, then?” asked Alavi. Part of Al-Nashwan’s plan was to get something into all the bodyguards’ hands.

  Taylor nodded. “When will I meet the Sheik?”

  Alavi smiled. “I knew you would understand.”

  “So, when will he be here?” Major Taylor repeated.

  “He’ll arrive shortly. He had to take an unscheduled phone call. It has to do with what we will discuss with you.”

  That excuse seemed to satisfy Major Taylor. He walked toward the balcony as Alavi threw a bottle of water to one of the bodyguards.

  “You have a beautiful view from here, Mohammad.”

  “Yes. I was quite pleased with it myself,” said Alavi. He loaded his hands with three more bottles of water, then casually passed them to the bodyguard to distribute to the guards outside the room.

  “You know, Mohammad, I’ve been thinking about a few things recently,” began Taylor.

  “Oh?” returned Alavi, looking at his watch. Any moment now…

  “With the price of gold reaching new heights, I think we should expand our current activities—”

  Major Taylor was interrupted by the sound of two shots going off in the hallway. Inside the room, Taylor’s bodyguard reacted immediately, pulling his gun out of its holster and pointing it toward the door. Suddenly, the door burst open, and a bloody Omar Al-Nashwan entered with his pistol drawn.

  CHAPTER 48

  Al-Nashwan had rapidly explained his plan to Alavi. His protégé had asked a few questions but agreed with him that it was the best they could do in so little time. Yet the plan required perfect execution from both of them.

  Once Major Taylor and his security detail were out of the lobby, Al-Nashwan exited his room and used the emergency staircase to go down to the first floor, where a utility door was located. He deposited Alavi’s duffel bag into the kitchen’s large metallic trash bin, then attached a silencer to his QSZ-92 pistol. Al-Nashwan felt the adrenaline rush throughout his body. It didn’t matter how many times he had done these kinds of things before; being close to death had always given
him chills.

  Just a bullet away.

  The light drizzle had now become a violent rainfall, and within a few seconds, Al-Nashwan felt his shirt clinging to his upper body. He didn’t care about that, though; he knew the rain would help him during the first phase of his plan.

  Without a way to holster his pistol with the silencer attached, he kept his weapon close to his leg as he walked toward the corner of the building, where he was hoping to get a good look at where the Rovers were parked. From his semiconcealed position behind the trash containers, Al-Nashwan was able to see the two black SUVs parked one behind the other. The drivers had kept the engines running, but most likely that was only so that they could enjoy the vehicle’s air conditioning as they relaxed after a long journey. Al-Nashwan knew from experience that once the boss was out of sight, they would let their guard down.

  The heavy rain would make it difficult for the drivers inside the vehicles to see what was going on around them. After checking that his weapon had a round in the chamber, Al-Nashwan ran from his cover to the rear bumper of the first Range Rover fifteen meters away. He nearly slipped as his combat boots lost their grip on the muddy road but was miraculously able to regain his balance.

  Crouching down, Al-Nashwan rested his back on the rear bumper and thought about how the next minute or so would unfold. Once he’d visualized it a few times, he was ready to make his move. He stayed low, remaining out of view from both drivers, and slithered to the front passenger door of the first Rover. He guessed that the SUV’s door would be locked and was prepared to fire through the window, but he tried the handle first anyway. He was only half-surprised to find that the lazy driver had failed to lock the door. Stupid mistake, buddy. You deserve to die.

  The driver instinctively turned toward the opening door but was shot twice in the head before he had the chance to identify the sound. Al-Nashwan opened the rear passenger door and dragged the dead driver’s body into the backseat, where it would be harder to see from outside.

  Looking down, Al-Nashwan saw that spatters of blood from his victim’s wound had found their way onto his shirt, but he had no time to do anything about it now. His entry into the hotel would be a bit trickier, but he’d be prepared. He closed the Range Rover’s passenger doors and proceeded toward the second SUV.

  This driver, while no more attentive than the first, had at least locked the doors. Unfortunately for him, he was playing a video game on a smartphone instead of watching what was happening around him. Omar Al-Nashwan fired three rounds just inches from the passenger side window. The first bullet shattered the glass and hit the driver in his right shoulder. The second and third bullets mushroomed into his brain.

  After hastily removing what was left of the window, Al-Nashwan opened the side door and quickly stashed the second driver in the trunk of the first SUV. He inserted a new magazine into his pistol and kept the half-spent one in his left pocket.

  Knowing that he and Alavi would need a swift getaway, he left the SUV’s engine running. Keeping his pistol close to his right leg, Al-Nashwan went back inside the hotel, using the same utility door he had used before.

  So far, so good. Yet the next minute would be crucial.

  He reentered the emergency staircase area and cautiously opened the door leading to the hallway. He chanced a quick peek into the corridor. What he saw pleased him.

  Of the four remaining bodyguards, three were outside Alavi’s room, chatting. Each was holding a bottle of water, which would considerably slow their reaction time. He still didn’t know what to expect inside Alavi’s room, but he trusted Alavi to do his part—or at least to get out of the way.

  He turned the corner into the corridor and, with his weapon extended in front of him and his eyes steady on the front sight of the pistol, Al-Nashwan got two shots off before any of the bodyguards realized that an intruder was attacking them.

  The first bodyguard didn’t stand a chance. After taking Al-Nashwan’s first two shots in the chest, he fell hard. The second dropped his bottle of water and managed to get his right hand to his holster before Al-Nashwan’s third round pierced his heart.

  The fourth time Al-Nashwan pulled the trigger, nothing happened.

  Jammed!6

  ―

  Al-Nashwan automatically tapped the magazine and racked the pistol’s action. That process was called an immediate action, and it was enough to clear a jammed pistol ninety percent of the time. Al-Nashwan could see that this particular one was due to a bad round that hadn’t exploded.

  Although Al-Nashwan cleared his malfunction in less than three-quarters of a second, it provided the third bodyguard with precious time. He drew his pistol and fired a booming round in the general direction of the assailant before Al-Nashwan’s fifth round hit him in the middle of the forehead.

  Al-Nashwan swore under his breath. The bodyguard’s bullet had flown less than an inch from his head, and that was too close. Worse, the surprise element was now gone; the advantage had slipped to the other side as soon as the single loud shot had rung out.

  Now they would be waiting for him on the other side of the door. Knowing that any hesitation on his part would mean certain death, Al-Nashwan kicked the door open and was about to enter when someone yelled his name.

  ―

  As Alexander Shamrock turned to face him, Mike fired his weapon. His target was slammed against the doorframe of Alavi’s room by the force of the impact. But before he could fire again, Al-Nashwan slipped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

  “What’s going on, Mike? I’m running back to you,” Lisa said, her breathing heavy.

  “He’s here. I just shot Shamrock,” Mike explained. “I don’t know how bad he’s hit, but he’s now inside the room.”

  The next few seconds were filled by the sound of gunfire coming from Alavi’s room. Mike didn’t think anyone would be left alive.

  “I’m coming in through the front door,” Lisa said. “Shit! Someone shot up both drivers.”

  “We’ll deal with that later, Lisa. Just get in here.”

  His wife burst down the hallway, sweeping her weapon left and right in search of targets. Kneeling next to Mike, she asked, “What do you want to do?”

  “It’s been twenty seconds since the last gunshot,” Mike explained. “We’ll give it another minute, then we’ll approach the room. If we don’t hear anything, we’re going in. Anyone with a weapon is to be considered hostile.”

  “What if someone decides to exit while we wait?”

  “We take them out.”

  And say goodbye to any chances I have left to see my father alive.

  CHAPTER 49

  The round deflected off his bulletproof vest but knocked the wind out of him. Fortunately, his instincts kicked in right away, and he pushed inside the room, out of the gunman’s line of fire. Who the hell was that? Someone who knew me as Alexander Shamrock?

  He closed the door with his foot, and the first thing he saw was Taylor’s fourth bodyguard, confused to see the Sheik’s right-hand man. They fired at the same time, and Al-Nashwan felt the bullet cut through his thigh, followed by an immense pain that nearly paralyzed him. His target was still standing, but Alavi jumped on him before he could fire a second time. The two men rolled on the hotel-room floor, preventing Al-Nashwan from firing.

  Taylor was nowhere in sight. Al-Nashwan, fighting through the pain, had a pretty good idea where he was as he cleared the room’s entrance foyer and moved into the main bedroom area, keeping himself low to present the smallest target possible. But Major Taylor was ready and fired at Al-Nashwan as soon as he rounded the corner. The 9mm bullet fired by the British Army-issued Browning missed the vest and hit high on his left shoulder.

  FUCK!

  The impact brought him down, but his life was saved when Taylor’s second and third rounds went high. Using the last of his energy, Al-Nashwan pumped the rest of his
magazine into Major Taylor’s body.

  ―

  Alavi was still wrestling with Taylor’s bodyguard. The man had been hit in the stomach by Al-Nashwan’s bullet, but he wouldn’t give up. Both struggling men were using most of their strength to keep the end of the barrel away from them. For a few seconds, Alavi was pinned down by the weight of the other man. Seeing Al-Nashwan’s body lying in a growing pool of blood and clutching his injured shoulder, Alavi knew he was on his own.

  Without taking his hand off the bodyguard’s pistol, Alavi tried to knee his opponent in the groin. He heard a grunt and felt the man’s grip on the firearm waver. He twisted hard and punched the bodyguard in the face with such force that he broke his own wrist. But with the strength of that strike, his foe became unfocused. With his good hand, Alavi went for the steak knife he’d tucked into his belt earlier. The bodyguard hadn’t yet recuperated from the devastating blow to his face when Alavi plunged the knife past the bone and into the heart.

  Leaving his knife where it stuck, Alavi looked over at Al-Nashwan. His mentor was quickly losing blood from two bullet wounds and was in urgent need of medical assistance. He grabbed Al-Nashwan’s pistol and checked how many rounds were left in the magazine. Seeing that there were none, he cursed fiercely and discarded it.

  They had to move now or else face the police.

  “Mohammad, we have to get out of here,” Al-Nashwan said weakly. “We can’t use the door. Someone is waiting for us on the other side.”

  “What? Who?” Alavi didn’t understand. Did Major Taylor bring more men than they had thought?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Al-Nashwan said, gasping. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think one of the bullets hit an artery. Help me to my feet,” answered Al-Nashwan, looking down at his pants.

  He winced in pain, but with the help of Alavi, he was able to get up.