SOME WILL DIE
Knightsbridge, London three in the morning. One of the Regency mansions in a row around a neat small square. Around the back, behind the tall brick wall, a shadow beneath an open sash window shifted and slipped over the sill to crouch on the sitting room floor. Waited as the moon momentarily appeared from behind thick clouds casting enough illumination to show all he needed to know. Sliding the window shut, a slight breeze through the round hole in the glass beneath the lock shifted his hair then soft soled sneakers moved him towards the closed door. The handle moved but the door caught. He reached for his lock-pick and pushed the door not realising his mistake. He hadn’t noticed the minute electronic sensor located in a hinge screw hole as he crept towards the stairs.
In the main bedroom Joe Ricci immediately heard the triple ping from beneath his pillow. Instantly alert, the satin sheet crumpled as he slid to stand barefoot. Calmly grabbing the nine millimetre from the bedside drawer he screwed on the silencer. Flicked off the safety. Moved two pillows lengthways down the bed, shifted the duvet then silently stood behind the open door, gun pointing at head height.
The faintest sound. Single footsteps on the stairs. Not loud enough to have woken him but at this moment, in the darkness, in the silence, they sounded like elephant’s feet. Halfway up, he judged, and moving stealthily. Took a deep breath, lips slightly pursed as he exhaled and flexed his fingers. A subtle squeak from the slightly loosened floorboards on the landing. Firmed his stance. Adjusted his grip, finger poised as the shadow entered. Let the outstretched gun silently pop three holes in the pillows then squeezed the trigger. Immediately shifted as the body slumped and smiled at watering eyes staring up at him. Pressing his gun hard against the man’s forehead he growled, “Who sent you?”
Was that a grin, an attempted laugh? Whatever, the spluttering of blood told him a life had become irredeemable.
Across town two days later, in a hotel near Covent Garden, the man in the black suit shifted slightly as he listened to the receptionist’s soft smooth voice drift into the phone. Heard her say his name, Steven James. She glanced at him as she listened to the reply, blinked once then looked at the desk. Picked up the A4 manilla envelope with her left hand.
“Yes, that’s what I said, an envelope. A4.” Obviously, a reply to a question. “Yes, Steven James,” she repeated.
Steve glanced up at the camera behind the reception desk. The one directed over that immediate area of the foyer and smiled. CCTV held no concern for him but it did add a complication. His gaze returned to stare at the receptionist. Putting down the envelope she rested her hand on the desktop, index finger tapping. Glancing again her eyes caught his and immediately looked away. Her fingers started drumming the desk. His dark penetrating eyes she found stark and intimidating. Initially she had been attracted to this tall man as he pushed the entrance door and casually sauntered across the foyer. What was there not to like. Thirties, at the low end. Dark jacket undone and open. Pale blue shirt, no tie. Wide, strong, sturdy looking shoulders. Long swept back dark hair framed a handsome face that smacked of fun. Now though the way he stood, the way he looked at her, the way those eyes… A shiver slithered down her spine and that really surprised her. So out of character.
She glanced behind. Up at the camera. The other receptionist had disappeared out the back and on her own she suddenly felt vulnerable. Stammering into the receiver she asked, “Are you there?” and waited. Her left-hand fingers started to fiddle with a pen. Steve said nothing. Other than the initial, “Grant Henderson, please,” he had not said another word except, “I want to give him this,” as he had handed her the envelope and watched with those deep brown eyes.
Steve moved closer. Leant on the front of the desk. His face less than a couple of feet from hers. As the phone came to life he could just make out, “Tell him I don’t want to see him. Tell him I don’t want it,” then a click.
Momentarily the receptionist held onto the phone before replacing the receiver. Took a couple of seconds to settle, to get her act together, to reset her composure. Pushing the envelope towards Steve she confidently said, “Sorry, he says he doesn’t want to see you or want the envelope,” the words framed with a tight-lipped smile.
Steve ignored it. “Phone him again.” he spoke so close she could smell lunch. Something oriental.
“But…”
Steve had no option, if Grant Henderson would not see him, he must at least leave the envelope. If he didn’t Judy would make his life a misery and he would spend a few more weeks in semi-darkness. Being demanding might do it, “Call him,” he snapped. That made her fume. Her frown directed at Steve, her head slightly cocked, “Do it,” he barked and her teeth pulled on her bottom lip.
Eyes smouldering, she stabbed out 233. Grant Henderson answered but before she could speak Steve snatched the phone, “You’ll really want to see what’s inside,” he said.
There was a pause. Then, “First I want to know how you found me.”
“Think about it, it was easy, your mistress, she likes money more than protecting you. All I had to do was tempt her and buy her sushi. If you want to hide, rule one, don’t call anyone. Now, do you want this, it’s dynamite.” There was nothing else he could say. He held his breath.
Another pause. Then, “Okay, leave it but I won’t see you. I don’t want to see anyone.”
Steven James handed back the phone. Pushed the envelope towards the receptionist, “Did you hear that?” he asked. Then seeing her fury, he slowed down, softened his tone, “Please, can you have it taken up straight away. I’ll wait.”
As the receptionist pressed a couple more buttons Steve gave her a half smile and moved to the set of four contemporary chairs around a low glass top table covered with a neat pile of newspapers and sat facing the street door. Glanced around the foyer. Smart, as you would expect in a top London hotel. Open double doors at one end. The bar with the entrance to a swanky restaurant. Five in the afternoon was a quiet time. People who had been out were back and people who were arriving had checked in so just a few hanging about. A couple chatted close to him. The guy suddenly glanced towards activity at the street door then sighed and looked away. A woman barged past a man going out as she rushed in heading towards the stairs. A man with a nondescript plump face, wire rimmed glasses and wearing a heavy looking dark blue jacket with a bulging pocket sat in the corner blankly staring out of the street window seemingly unaware of his surroundings.
The receptionist hung up and a porter appeared. Handing him the envelope she said something and nodded towards Steve. Glancing once the porter headed towards the stairs. Five minutes later he was back. Looked at the receptionist and nodded. Moving around the desk she stood in front of Steve. Waited a moment trying to collect some words together but, in the end, coldly said, “It’s delivered.”
Steve stood and smiled. She looked into his eyes as he handed her tightly rolled notes, “Thank you,” he said, grinning as he moved towards the street door. Standing for a moment she watched him leave thinking the threat she had seen had gone. He did seem nice, perhaps she had been premature in dismissing him.
Returning to the desk she unrolled the narrow tube and stared at five twenties as she shielded them from the camera trying to spy over her shoulder. Glanced around the foyer. No staff. The lady had disappeared up the stairs. Four guests coming out of the lift. The seated couple not looking her way. The man still sitting in the corner stared out of the window. Pulling off one note she put it in the gratuities box under the countertop and tucked the rest down the shallow V of her grey dress into her bra. Leant both hands on the counter and sighed long and hard. A new experience. He was the first person to ever get her flustered. She looked up and stood straight pulling her hands through her long dark hair as she smiled at the guest who had entered the foyer from the bar and was heading her way. This one she knew. He had been staying for a few days. An American, Theo Moroni. Nice man. Quietly spoken and funny.
“Hi Kate. Nice day, eh?” he said as he stood in front of her. He liked this girl, so beautiful but not so sweet, he was sure of that. Took in the slim figure that made her look fragile but that did not fool him. He suspected the exact opposite. Neat looking. A good luck face, a great natural look but he was one of the few who noticed the hard edge that, for him, gave her away. This was one deceptively tough cookie, he thought, one of those with charm who knew the ropes and how to make the most of them without getting wrapped up in knots.
“It is,” Kate smiled, “how can I help you?” She loved his soft American accent.
“I’m dining out tonight. I know it’s presumptuous but would you like to join me?”
Kate hesitated, a whole heap of questions and doubts instantly cropped up. Sure he was good looking but how old was he? The greying temples. She had to guess near fifty. Perhaps nearly twice her age. Did it matter? Not really. Did she know him well enough? No, but did she like him? Definitely. Was she attracted to him? Certainly. Rich? Probably. So, this might be an opportunity. Well then… “That would be lovely, thank you. My shift ends at eight,” she smiled.
“I know. I’ve booked a table for nine-thirty. Nice place, Italian. Only a fifteen-minute walk. You’ll like it. Say, is that enough time for you to get ready?”
She knew the place and it was good. Very authentic. “Certainly,” she replied, “I live in the hotel while I’m working.”
“I know. Shall I meet you down here at eight-forty-five?”
If she had noticed she did not seem to be concerned he had appeared to have done some homework. Nor did she ask herself if that was the case how much did he know about her. Instead, she said, “The cocktail bar around the corner. Could we meet there? The hotel, well, you know.”
“Sure, I understand. There’s nothing like a bit of discretion.”
Kate smiled, “Thank you for understanding. I’ll be there by eight-forty.”
“No problem, we’ll have time for a drink. Already looking forward to it,” Theo said as he turned towards the stairs but stopped to look at the information board leaving Kate watching the back of his expensive tailored grey suit with an amused smile. She sighed again. What a day. First a difficult, sinister encounter that had momentarily unnerved her and now an offer of hopefully first-class and lucrative entertainment. All within the space of thirty minutes. She pondered for a moment. Forty minutes, that was enough, shower, change and… the phone rang breaking into her thoughts about what to wear. It didn’t even occur to her to consider what Theo wanted. She just assumed company and, of course sex, both of which she had no doubt would be enjoyable.
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