by Jack Stroke
Jealous Storm
Jack Stroke
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
To be continued…
1
Three fire trucks turned up to the Convention Centre, which frankly Amber found excessive. Sure, she had set off a bomb downstairs, but there are bombs and there are bombs. This was hardly a ‘level half of downtown’ type device. It was just a little smoke bomb, designed to clear out the room, which it had done quite nicely. There had been precious little panic or concern, more confusion. People merely got out of their seats and shuffled for the exit, just as intended.
The Convention Centre had offices upstairs. That is where Amber decamped, four floors up, in a nice boardroom she’d found, with high-backed leather chairs surrounding a large oval table. It seemed as good a place to hide as any. All she needed was somewhere to lie low until everyone cleared out.
From high above, Amber observed the fundraiser guests milling about outside the entrance. She couldn’t see most of them; her view was obstructed by the small roof jutting out above the building’s main entrance. They were starting to disburse, the realisation the night was over slowly dawning on them.
She eased into one of the leather chairs, massaging her ankle. It was sore but not too bad. Not swollen at all. That was a good thing.
The job had been a limited window opportunity, meaning they’d had to move fast. Gomez’s location had been uncovered and Mother wanted a tracking device placed on him. Amber was thrilled things had to be done quickly as this type of job gave her far greater input into how to achieve the desired outcome.
From the get-go Mother wasn’t pleased with Amber’s ideas, the words ‘cavalier’ and ‘reckless’ thrown around. While she hadn’t cared for any of it, this part of the plan had been a particular bone of contention. The afterwards. Mother hated the idea of Amber remaining in the building. That was fair enough. The issue was they couldn’t think of any alternative for her to escape.
In the past, Amber probably would have shared Mother’s concern, but that was the old Amber. She was Chill Amber now. Chill Amber knew it was going to be all right and wasn’t worth stressing about. Things tended to work out. She’d find somewhere. Explaining this to Mother had not eased tensions.
And in the end, Amber had been one hundred per cent correct. She had found somewhere, this lovely boardroom. The tracker planted, the job had been a success. All that was left was to wait.
Really, the job’s biggest concern had been the fact she’d had to wear a red wig…
2
For some reason, Amber never looked right as a redhead.
She had worn a wide variety of wigs and colours and styles in her years working for Diamond Logistics. Red never worked for her. The colour just looked wrong. She could pull off just about any other colour. Plus, red wigs were inevitably itchy. She had never managed to figure out why that was. Still, it did the job. It didn’t look like a wig, so if anybody came looking for her after, they would be looking for a woman with bright red hair.
Matching the wig was an eye-catching firetruck red dress. While attention-grabbing, the dress wasn’t too revealing. It couldn’t be; it wasn’t actually a dress. It was a costume. The type of thing a magician’s assistant might wear, held together by Velcro. Perfect for a magic trick.
The fundraising auction was in full swing when Amber entered. Tables filled the space, with a dozen people at each, all dressed up and ready to spend. There was a ridiculous amount of money in the room - old money, new money. Legal, illegal. The fundraisers clearly didn’t care where the money came from, as long as it came.
All eyes were on Amber as she made her way down the centre aisle, between all the tables. Made sense, the auctioneer wasn’t exactly setting the world on fire. Drat. Amber had managed to time things perfectly and poorly all at once. She had to enter while the auction was underway, so all good there. However, the plan was to do so when something decent was up for grabs. Instead, the current lot was a framed sports jersey.
Onstage beside the framed jersey was a person who looked like a brick come to life. No neck to speak of. A brick in a suit. The guy was a rugby player Amber vaguely recognised, so relatively well known. Donk or Cronk or something. It must’ve been his jersey under the hammer.
It was hard to imagine anybody getting too passionate about a jersey. Still, she was inside now. No going back.
Moving through, Amber took stock of the room. She was almost at the front before she spotted Gomez. His table was closer to the stage than she anticipated, probably why she failed to see him initially. She had been expecting him to be at the back with the bottom feeders. He must have more juice than she had realised. That was good. It would help in a minute. Give her some time.
More of a surprise was he had Ralph with him. Even in his tuxedo, Ralph resembled a stocking stuffed with peanuts, sleeves bursting at the seams with those ridiculous arms.
Gomez being here was one thing, but was Ralph really worth the five hundred dollar a plate meal? Especially since he probably wouldn’t eat it. He looked like the type who would limit himself to boiled chicken and Brussels sprouts. Ralph’s eyes fell on Amber. It didn’t matter. Amber could have waved hello. Blown him a kiss even. There is no chance he would recognise her. The guy barely had the IQ to tie his shoes.
To Amber’s left an emergency exit led to the exposed staircase. In front of her was the stage. To the right a door led to a small cupboard. Opening that door, she took the bomb from her purse and tossed it inside.
That gave her ten seconds.
3
No doubt the assembled mob wondered what this mysterious lady in red was doing exactly. No one challenged her though. Keeping casual, she closed the door of the cupboard and strode up on stage. Still, no one made any effort to stop her. In fact, Cronk extended his hand to help her up the stairs. What a gentleman.
The auctioneer paused, confused by the unexpected intrusion. Was this part of the event? If so, no one had informed him. He glanced at Cronk, who shrugged. Amber reached for the
microphone flashing a generous smile. The auctioneer looked for someone to instruct him on what to do. No one seemed to know. It was rare for a person to stroll up on stage in the middle of the auction and demand the microphone. So he handed it over.
Amber nodded her thanks.
Holding it up to her mouth she screamed: “Death to tyrants!”
‘Death to tyrants’ didn’t have any particular significance. It’s a rough translation of what John Wilkes Booth supposedly yelled when assassinating Lincoln. Translation because he yelled in Latin. Amber yelled it to get people’s attention and because it seemed as good as anything (and the Latin would have just confused this crowd).
As she did, she grabbed Cronk’s framed sports jersey. And she was away.
Well-timed. The smoke bomb went off in the cupboard with a subdued pop.
All good, except unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, adrenaline kicked in and she did something stupid. She leapt from the stage. Jumping in such extravagant heels is never a good idea, especially from a stage. As she came down, she twisted her ankle. Not too badly. Sure made it challenging to run though, especially in those bright red pumps.
The initial reaction was one of confusion. A few guests stood. One or two yelled. The jersey enthusiasts. Everyone watched dumbfounded. Even security, who were slow to respond. Amber made it to the emergency exit well before them.
However, despite the head start and security caught on their heels, running away was doomed from the start.
Worse now that she couldn’t run thanks to the ankle.
4
All Diamond Logistic agents are well-practised in the art of being seen when required and invisible where necessary. But the area where Mother’s agents excel is the ability to morph between the two, like flicking a light switch.
Out in the open air, Amber tossed Cronk’s framed sports jersey over the edge, where it fell to its demise several floors below. She ripped off her dress and wig in one motion. As the shoes and purse disappeared, she became someone else in the blink of an eye. The tall redhead in the eye-catching dress replaced by an average-size waitress.
Security piled out the emergency exit with Cronk in tow. They dashed by Amber, not even giving her a second thought. Wait staff are generally invisible anyway. They weren’t interested in some waitress or what she might’ve been doing out on the fire escape; they were after the tall red-haired woman in a red dress carrying a framed sport’s jersey.
Inside, smoke flicked through the door by the stage. Not filling the room, but enough to cause concern. The crowd shuffled to the exit in a mostly orderly fashion.
The pain in Amber’s ankle made walking normally more challenging than usual. Slipping back in unnoticed, she navigated her way along the wall towards the main exit. She waited until she spotted Gomez coming towards her. It was important to be a little bit careful now. She looked more like herself. It was possible Gomez or Ralph might recognise her. Possibly but unlikely. They had only met her that one time and wouldn’t be on the lookout for a rogue waitress.
As the crowd pressed forward, Amber moved the other direction. Fighting a sea of bodies, she positioned herself in front of Gomez. Head down, she bumped into him lightly. He didn’t look at her, half shoving Amber aside, no clue she had planted the tracking device in his pocket. Mission accomplished. Too easy. The tracker was small and sticky. In the unlikely event he did find it, he would think it was a quality control sticker that occasionally turn up in garments.
Rather than leave like everybody else, Amber made her way further into the building, unaware she was being watched.
It was a pretty good plan. Of course, security would quickly find the discarded wig and dress. By then, the evacuation would be in full swing. Even if they realised Amber had been the waitress on the stairs, the assumption would be she was long gone. Exiting with the crowd. Instead, Amber chose to wait things out in an upstairs office. This was the part Mother wasn’t too keen on. She wanted a clean getaway. Fair enough, although considering the ankle, it was not a possibility now.
Up in the boardroom, Amber settled into a leather chair. She figured she would have to wait an hour. Maybe two. One or two hours with no human contact. As such the boardroom door opening behind her gave her a real fright
“Well, well, well…”
Amber turned. Ralph stood between her and the exit, no way by his imposing bulk.
“If it isn’t the barefoot waitress.”
5
“Hi, Ralph,” Amber said, keeping her voice casual. “Gave me a fright. All the action is downstairs. What are you doing up here?”
Ralph smirked, extremely pleased with himself. “Just following some stupid waitress.”
This could be problematic. As good a fighter as Amber was, Ralph was a big boy. She had bested him once, in Gomez’s hotel room. This time he would be ready. Amber did her best to control her eyes. Not to make it too obvious they were darting around, looking for a way out. There wasn’t one. Or at least, not one Ralph wasn’t blocking.
“And here I thought no one had seen me,” she said.
“Pretty dumb, jumping off stage in front of a thousand people if you don’t want to be seen.”
“Fair point.”
“The red dress was a good disguise. Clever distraction. I figured you must be up to something else. Then I watched you sneak back in as the waitress.”
“I’m impressed, Ralph. I must admit I didn’t realise you were that clever.”
He chuckled. “Not really clever. I’ve been waiting for you, ever since that night in the hotel with Rocky. Waiting, waiting. I knew you would come back one day. And here we are.”
Ralph removed his jacket, laying it carefully over one of the chairs. Ready for business.
“How is Rocky?”
“Good. He’s gonna be disappointed. He wanted to meet you again too. Wanted to bite your face off.”
“Poor Rocky.”
“He still might get to. He would prefer if you’re alive but he won’t mind either way. So, what are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I was after that rugby jersey of Donk or Cronk or whatever his name was. That’s why I stole it.”
“You’re a funny woman. Doesn’t matter though. We’ll figure it out.”
He made his way towards Amber, flexing and bulging as he approached. Macho nonsense yet it worked. He was certainly intimidating.
“Hey, Ralphy-boy, this isn’t a good idea…”
“Why not? You know, you got me loads of trouble with Gomez. He almost fired me.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I bet you are.”
Ralph seized the boardroom table and flipped it, sending the thing crashing up against the wall. It was a pretty impressive show of strength and removed the only barrier between the two of them.
“The only reason he didn’t get rid of me was you.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“I promised him you’d be back. Told him I’d be ready and waiting. Whenever it was you showed your face, I’d get you. I’ve been dreaming of this, every day. When I would see you again.”
He closed in slowly. Amber backed up.
“So tell me this. Why isn’t killing you a good idea?”
“Because I’m an assassin.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. If you’re not careful, I’m going to have to kill you, Ralph.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
He twisted his neck, producing a disarming crack.
Amber glanced about. If only she had her trusty Sig. There was nothing to use as a weapon. She could roll one of the boardroom chairs at Ralph. Somehow she didn’t imagine that would do much good. She waited until he was almost upon her before ducking and bolting. No dice. Even if she didn’t have the sore ankle, it’s doubtful she would have had much luck. He anticipated the move, catching her with ease.
With a violent swing, Ralph pulled Amber close, one hand crushing her neck.
“Some
assassin,” he said, letting out an inane cackle and choke slamming her into the window. The glass behind her buckled. Pretty flimsy glass. Couldn’t be up to code, she decided, which wasn’t all that helpful to her situation.
Ralph wasn’t mucking about. Amber’s toes scrambled, unable to gain any purchase on the floor. He squeezed the life out of her with one of his big meat-hook hands. She kicked and swung her arms around, achieving nothing. When that didn’t work, she pulled at his hand. That didn’t work either. This wasn’t good.
“Come on then, assassin. You gonna kill me or what?” He was having far too much fun.
Large black circles invaded Amber’s vision. She was aware of something that sounded like a drowning frog, only to realise the sound was coming out of her. It mixed with Ralph’s inane cackling, curdling in her ears.
Any second now. Any second now she was going to pass out. Then die.
6
Amber felt the life drain out of her. If Ralph hadn’t said anything, she might have been gone. The words gave her something to focus on.