Shattered destiny, p.8
Shattered Destiny, page 8
“At least they’ve got a better mini bar here,” she said, handing a bottle over.
“But we still have no idea how at least two of the fires started.”
Bottle in hand, and after pulling the twin bed apart with the other, Harris took long pulls as she sat up against the pillows.
Staring at the opposite wall, Fisher took her silence as a hint. He tipped up his bottle with long pauses in between while he double pressed the iComm’s home button and thumbed through the rows of unconcealed icons. His gaze caught on the scanner, evoking in his tired mind the hotel where two goons had tried to abduct him for Farid. It wasn’t long before his thoughts turned to the colonial Caribbean palace as he held the iComm out in his search for Susie. The green dot pulsing on the twin bed disappeared as a call came in.
“Are you okay, Susie?” Fisher said, taking a deep breath.
“I just wanted to talk,” her quiet voice replied. Not sensing any fear or hurry, Fisher relaxed. “What are you doing?”
“Talking to you,” he said, smiling.
Susie laughed, and he could tell she was tired. “You know what I mean.”
Fisher laughed. “I’m just about to sleep. You?”
“The chance would be a fine thing.”
He was about to ask her to elaborate when she cut him off. “Oh. I just remembered. Someone was looking for you at the wake.”
“Who?” Fisher said, taking more interest.
“I didn’t catch her name, but she was wearing a nurse’s uniform. She was very nice,” Susie replied.
“I don’t know any nurses,” Fisher said, glancing at Harris.
“She knew you.”
“Okay. Thanks. Anyway, I better be getting to bed,” he said.
“When are you coming home?” Susie replied as Fisher watched Harris slip down the bed, her head resting against a plump white pillow and eyes closed as her chest rose and fell.
“Soon,” he said and hung up, his eyelids feeling heavy as he let them close.
A moment later and he was back in the corridor of the Australian flat with the assassin grappling with Harris. Then he said it. He issued the command.
The guy had done as he’d told, compelled to stop the assault even though he must have known it meant losing the battle.
The moment played over in Fisher’s mind, each time he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to come next time.
***
Luana
Before
A single shot started a chain of memories she’d never forget. Not that she’d even tried.
Battered wooden furniture littered the range. Soft cover, she soon found out.
At the distant end, the rule running the length of the wall showing a hundred metres, was an open door she hadn’t noticed.
Zio didn’t speak as he led her through the main door, handing her ear defenders as she stepped in. He pulled a key from his back pocket and, as before, unlocked the metal cabinet, but this time held out his palm for her to wait.
Stepping onto the range, he found a long chain laid across the floor, its new grey links sweeping along the dust of the concrete before snaking up through the handles of a tall wardrobe. She stared at the dark oak cabinet, its edges battered with age. It quivered, or so she thought.
As Zio bent at the waist and reached for the chain, she realised what was happening and stepped backwards, flexing her hands. When the chain fell from around the dark metal handles, the doors burst open and she saw him. With a quick glance, their eyes locked for a split second but she saw no recognition.
He was quick to figure out the challenge. It was some sort of bargain. Get to the end and live, or something like that.
She waited, not because she wanted to give him a chance. She waited because she wanted to give him hope.
After he took ten quick paces, she couldn’t hold herself any longer, and she flung open the metal cabinet. The gun sat where she expected it, with rounds already crammed into the metal.
With the magazine pushed home and the safety in kill mode, she turned but couldn’t see him. Pointing the barrel out, she smiled and looked at each piece of furniture for a tell. Hearing a whimper, she spotted the top of his head bobbing behind a thick antique cabinet.
If he was trained, then it was badly.
Taking only seconds to aim, she fired into the cabinet. Not wanting it to be too easy, she watched him leap up without a glance.
He was faster than she’d expected. A death bargain will do that, and a fear rose that he might get to the door.
Throwing the thought away, she relaxed her shoulders. She knew the theory and told herself she had this.
Aiming for where he would be, not where he was, her first shot missed. With a glance over to Zio, he nodded with encouragement and she pushed her arms further out, lining up the sight just ahead of the man bobbing and weaving but with a predictable flow.
Glancing at the long ruler, she knew it was time to end it.
He fell to the ground behind a pine dresser. Blood sprayed in a flower of success and she stepped onto the dusty concrete, the walk seeming to take forever.
Hearing a murmur, she found him alive, but a second shot to the chest was all it took to stop that.
Zio clapped and grinned wide. She’d seen the grin before and didn’t like what happened after. With twelve rounds left, and still wearing the smile, he held his hand out for the weapon.
She paused, but only for the briefest of moments.
“How does that feel?” he said as he took the safetied weapon.
Luana shrugged just as he spoke again. “I have someone else I want you to meet.”
17
James
Conditioned air breezed across his face, his right hand swiping at the pick as he woke. With his breathing rushed, he searched the day-lit room to find he was alone, the covers of her bed tight and dressed. Sitting upright, he drew deep breaths as the terror faded.
Without warning, the door swung open. Still dazed, he glanced to Harris as she bounded in wearing a skinny black trouser suit over a white blouse buttoned high to her neck. He’d not seen the outfit before, but he got the message. Today was for business, nothing else.
Her energetic smile beamed at his sleep-tired face. His levels were in the opposite state as he wallowed in a daze. Despite his reaction, her smile broadened as she threw a brown paper bag onto his lap.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” she called. “We’ve got a busy day.”
“I thought we could lie by that beautiful pool and mull over our case with a Master P or two.” His smile rose at the thought but fell again when he pulled out pressed black trousers and a shirt.
“We’re going hunting,” she replied, and he didn’t miss the glint in her eye as he followed her hand to a Glock 17 pulled from under her jacket. The brass of the first round gleamed as she checked the magazine.
Hauling the clothes into the bathroom, he raised his dry voice. “And mine?” He heard the smile as she replied.
“You don’t want to be caught with a stolen military firearm.”
There was no point in replying.
“Very handsome,” Harris quipped, her eyebrows raised as he left the bathroom with a black jacket held in one hand over his shoulder. “Show me the iComm and we can start this little game.”
Fisher grabbed the thick black phone from the bedside table and the screen glowed with the start of a message.
Can’t sleep. You awake?
With a sigh, the words disappeared as he double pressed the home button, the hidden screens darting in from the left and, guided by Harris, he pressed a Bluetooth icon with a notepad in its corner.
“It’s a log of all the Bluetooth handshakes. Are you familiar with the system?” She looked up at Fisher’s nod. “I forgot you’re an IT geek.”
“And you’re a gun geek. Enough said.”
She smiled and looked at the phone.
“If these guys are sloppy, their phones would transmit away. This is a log of the phones the iComm has seen.”
Fisher raised his brow. “So we can see what devices were handshaking when we knew someone was watching. If their phone is called Mr Big, or KGB, then we’re laughing, right?”
“I said sloppy, not stupid. We mark the phones we’re interested in and then if the iComm gets a second handshake we know they’re with us again. The chances of randomly coming in to contact with the same people from last night are not worth thinking about.”
Fisher nodded. “Okay. That’s pretty cool.”
Harris showed him how to scroll down the list of phone names and times, then selected twenty handsets around at the end of their meal.
Much to Fisher’s disappointment, there were none with any giveaway names.
***
Luana
Before
“I have to pee,” she said in the darkness as a red bus bright with a wash of rain rushed past, spraying the windows of their compact car.
“It’s not been an hour since you last went,” Zio said without looking back, instead facing towards the newspaper spread across the steering wheel but with his gaze fixed on the entrance of a stone and dark glass building, whose height disappeared out of view. “Learn to hold it.”
Groaning, Luana shifted in her seat and turned towards the building’s entrance as a white van sprayed the window with water, smudging the night view into a multicoloured light show. As the water settled, her gaze caught on a man and woman holding hands and she ran through the checklist in her head whilst squeezing her pelvic floor.
The right age. Third quarter.
The right height. Around six feet.
Right build. Slight.
His skin was a little tanned. That was another tick. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, but that wasn’t on the list. She wasn’t sure if it was an oversight.
The man turned to the woman draped on his arm and laughed. Luana was closer to her age than his. Her golden sequinned dress was just visible through a woollen coat glistening with water. She thought perhaps they’d left a cab somewhere local, otherwise she’d be soaked through.
Watching them walk in through the entrance, Luana turned to her right with her brow raised.
“Glasses,” he said without moving his head.
Luana turned back and glanced down at her new blue jeans as she squeezed her legs together, still enjoying the new colour.
Zio coughed into a balled fist and she blew out a deep breath, her gaze tracking back to the pathway where she found another tall man, his hair gleaming silver under a wide black umbrella held by the thick outstretched arm of another walking at his side. Both wore tuxedos with black coats over their shoulders. One man dripped with water whilst the other remained dry under the umbrella. To the older man’s side, but two steps in front, another walked. A second towering bodyguard. Obvious to anyone, and he was the first in through the hotel’s revolving doors.
“That’s him,” she said, then startled by the engine, she squealed in fear she might lose control of her bladder when the car set off along the wet road.
Concentrating on the image in her mind, the shine of his grey hair, the roughness of his skin, his flat, serious expression, she thought of all the bad things he’d probably done until she agreed he was the kind of man she could kill.
18
James
“Remind me why we’re back here?” Fisher said, sitting in a wicker chair opposite Harris as she sipped from a tall glass of orange juice, its surface beaded with condensation.
“If they followed us here last night from the restaurant, there’s a good chance that’s who we’re looking for,” she replied, placing the glass on the table.
Fisher looked around, watching the busy comings and goings of the hotel reception whilst listening to the hum of partial conversations. He looked along the row of slow turning ceiling fans, each blade in line with its neighbour strung from the reception to the lift lobby.
“Would you do the same if you were them?” he said without turning away from the mesmerising action.
“No,” she replied in an instant. He looked over. “I’d have finished the job on the first attempt.”
Fisher’s smile slipped, and he turned away as déjà vu washed over him, not doubting the truth in what she’d said.
“Do you think they’re trying to kill us?” he asked, his voice quieter as he watched smart suits walk with purpose through the reception beside tourists dragging kids behind, others coupled and holding hands, their faces warm with holiday smiles.
“Assume the worst,” she replied without a pause.
“I do.”
Fisher’s gaze headed to the dining room and its bustle of occupants just visible through a pair of open double doors where, after glimpsing the buffet, he wished he hadn’t just grabbed a pastry as they passed through their own hotel, scoffing it as he hurried behind Harris.
“How long do you think it will take?” he said, hoping to take his mind off the subject.
“They’re already here.”
His head twitched towards the receptionist, their gazes locking for what seemed like an age. He was young, fair skinned with pristine manicured eyebrows, but he was missing a smile and turned away to beam at a guest as he tapped at a keyboard out of sight.
“Cool it,” Harris said in a low voice.
“The receptionist?”
“Yes. Stop looking,” she replied, and he turned back.
“What are we waiting for?” he asked, poised to stand.
“I want to give them time for backup to arrive,” she said under her breath.
“What?” Fisher replied, almost forgetting to check his volume.
“I want the best they’ve got.”
Fisher drew a deep breath, then with a sip of his coffee, he turned to Harris as an unrecognised tone rang in his head.
“Leave it in your pocket and drink up,” she said, after reading his body language.
Fisher guessed the tone meant a phone they’d been in range of last night was here again.
His lips pulled at the edge of the cup before he looked at his watch and slumped back into the chair. His gaze fixed on a spot in the foyer as he sought shapes in his peripheral vision. All he could make out were the blank ovals of faces.
“What are you doing?” she said as she leaned across the low wicker table between them.
“Maybe I’ll recognise them.”
“You look constipated. Just relax and drink up. I’ve got this.” Harris stood, watching him drain the cup and wipe foamed milk from his lip. “Very slick,” she said, before setting off towards the entrance.
***
Luana
Before
A voice called from far away. The words were so soft it took her a moment to realise it was a man’s voice, but she couldn’t quite place who spoke. Reaching out in the darkness, she felt restricted, unsure if it was a dream.
Feeling a waft of cold air around her, she realised her bottom half was exposed and her eyes snapped open to the light, as her legs were pulled apart by some unseen force.
There he was, looking down, eyebrows raised.
“Good morning,” he said, and she pulled in a sharp breath with his hard thrust.
19
James
Passing into a wall of heat, together they stepped from the hotel with a casual rhythm, a pace welcomed by Fisher, despite his concern Harris was making it too easy for those who followed.
Faces soon streamed past, with vibrant colours rushing at their sides and moustaches hanging bushy on faces as a continual assault attacked his nostrils, leaving him to wonder how these people could exist in such oppressive heat.
Disordered lines of battered Premier Padmini taxis clambered for every square of blacktop, but the tone in his head drew him away and he glanced to Harris as an answer to her unspoken question.
“You’ll keep hearing it as long as they’re near,” she replied.
“So what’s the plan?” Fisher asked, edging closer. “Are we just going to tire them out?” he added, dodging a cyclist whose loose orange smock threatened to catch in the bike’s chain.
“Just follow my lead,” she said with a smile. “There are two reasons for surveillance. Either to gather information, or to trap. If they’re just keeping tabs on us, perhaps trying to figure out our agenda, they won’t take too many risks. All we need to do is let them know we’ve identified them and they’ll disappear. Or try to, at least.”
“And if it’s more sinister?” Fisher said, his eyes wide as he stared back at the surging footpath.
“Then it’s a good job I went shopping this morning,” she said, raising her thin brow. “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough. I’ve informed our hosts and they know better than to follow me, which means I’m very interested in who these people are.”
“How do we ID them in all this?” Fisher said, motioning with his head to the crowd.
“We draw them into being spotted. If you see the individuals three or four times, they’re not just a coincidental face in the crowd,” she said, her smile widening. “And because they’re following us…”
“We can make them go wherever we want,” Fisher replied.
“Exactly,” she said, her face lit with approval.
“But we don’t have eyes in the back of our heads?”
Harris nodded. “With two of us, we’d split up and force them to choose one or to divide their effort. But…” she said, looking over as she tilted her head.
“Not until after training,” he replied and, still smiling, she nodded.
“You’ll learn from the traditional rule book to do everything by the rule of three, but afterwards they’ll train you in ways the players are unlikely to use.”
Fisher nodded, raising his brow as he stepped around a stack of wooden crates filled with peaches.
“I’d say these guys are pretty lazy from what I’ve seen. They’ll have a three-man team. One will follow with a gap of three people behind us,” she said, side-stepping a stack of oranges leaning toward the middle of the path. “With this crowd, they’ll be pretty close behind. He’s called the Eyeball, and it’s his job to keep sight of the mark.”
