Read Hitman: Enemy Within Online
Authors: William C. Dietz
Tags: #Science Fiction - Adventure, #Fiction - Science Fiction, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Science Fiction - General, #action, #General, #Science Fiction And Fantasy
Hitman: Enemy Within (32 page)
“Mr. François Gerrard will arrive prior to 12:00 p.m., and should be given full access to the premises so that he can make plans for a Class III extraction. Please grant him your full cooperation.”
And, because both the photo and the description of Gerrard matched the man standing in front of him, the former soldier began to relax.
“Could I have your identity code please?”
“It’s BXY-892,” Agent 47 replied.
The code was correct, so the security officer slid the fax back into its folder, and rang a bell. The woman who responded was none other than a harried looking Maria. With the departure imminent, Thorakis had probably been very difficult that morning—and 47 imagined that the last thing she needed was a visitor to take care of. And because the man in front of her looked very different from the photographer Tazio Scaparelli, she never appeared to make the connection. Fortunately for Maria, the man in the gray suit had no need of her services, and having said as much, he began to prowl the premises after she took her leave.
Agent 47 eyed his watch. Based on the information he had obtained from Maria earlier, he knew that the kitchen staff were required to prepare a green salad for Miss Desta each morning, and leave it outside the master bedroom at precisely 11:30. With rare exceptions, it was the ex-model’s practice to remain incommunicado until 1:00 p.m., when she was ready to greet the world. Assuming the salad rule was still in force, the assassin had five minutes to get upstairs and position himself in the vicinity of the master bedroom. With that in mind, he produced a small notebook, made some meaningless notes in it, and returned to the main hallway. From there he climbed the stairs and was standing on the landing above when a girl appeared at the other end of the hall. Having made use of the back stairs himself, Agent 47 knew they led up from the kitchen, which was consistent with the tray the youngster held in her hands.
The operative saw a teapot, a matching cup, and a plate with a silver dome over it. The teenager placed the offering on a table, paused to make sure the tray was square with the edge of the table, and turned back toward the stairs.
Agent 47 took a quick look around to make sure no one was visible, hurried down the hall, and lifted the domed lid. Then, still holding the cover aloft, he aimed the atomizer at the perfectly tossed salad. The bottle made a gentle wheezing sound as peanut oil misted the air and drifted down to coat the greens below.
Having replaced the lid, the operative turned back toward the front of the house. He was halfway down the front stairs, on his way to retrieve his belongings, when he heard the door open and Miss Desta emerge to get her salad.
The assassin was more than a mile away when Aristotle Thorakis took Miss Desta in his arms, nuzzled her hair, and began to kiss her.
A few minutes later, as they were just starting to make love, the Greek’s throat started to constrict. His face turned red, it was no longer possible for him to breathe, and he struggled to speak. But Thorakis couldn’t get the necessary words out. He made gasping noises, clawed at his throat, and began to thrash about.
Miss Desta, frightened, rolled out of bed and ran to the intercom. Unfortunately the former model didn’t know enough Portuguese to effectively communicate with the staff in the kitchen. Valuable time was lost while half a dozen members of the shipping magnate’s domestic staff rushed upstairs to see why Miss Desta was screaming hysterically.
The chef was among them, and even though he couldn’t imagine how such a thing could have happened, he recognized the symptoms for what they were. Fortunately an injector preloaded with epinephrine was sitting on top of the dresser next to the businessman’s wallet.
Maria watched in open-mouthed horror as the chef removed the locking cap from the EpiPen and rammed the exposed needle into his employer’s meaty thigh. There was an audible
click
as the spring-loaded device delivered the correct dose of medication into muscle. But unfortunately for Aristotle Thorakis, his mistress, his family, and the
Puissance Treize,
the shipping magnate was already dead.
Fazio and his peers were present to witness the moment when the medics arrived, after which the famous businessman’s body was removed from the house.
As for the proximate cause of the Greek’s death, that was clear, although no one could figure out how a small amount of peanut oil had found its way onto Miss Desta’s salad, in spite of all the precautions taken in the kitchen.
At the exact moment when CPR was suspended, and then while Thorakis was being loaded onto a stretcher, Agent 47 was standing on the ramparts of Pena Palace, a fairy tale–like keep that sat atop a peak not far from the remains of the Moorish castle where Hans Pruter’s body was beginning to rot. The sun was out, the air was clean, and a hawk could be seen circling in the distance. The killer was at rest.
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