Paradise Burns (5 page)
NINE
After meeting
with Jimmy Manhattan, I’d taken a nice walk around the city to clear my head
and assess my current, and increasingly complex, situation. It was clear there
was more at stake than just Pellaggio’s potential earnings, and after more
deliberation than I usually afford my jobs, I decided the best thing I could do
is kill Ted Jackson and leave town as soon as possible. I have to kill him,
because I wouldn’t want word getting round that I went back on one of my
contracts. That would be bad for my business. But I know it would be very easy
to get involved further in whatever was going down here, and I have no
intention of working closely with the mob and giving them the impression we’re bosom
buddies. That too would be bad for my business.
I knew Jackson was working out of his
hotel room this afternoon, and I was heading there now. He was staying at The
Four Seasons Hotel, which was a huge, impressive building on Main Street, right
in the center of the city. It covered almost the entire block, and its rooms
ranged from your standard single or double to entire penthouse suites with more
rooms inside them than your average house.
Have a guess where our guy is? That’s
right - in a suite on the top floor. Inconsiderate asshole! That makes things a
lot more complicated. But not impossible. Not for me, anyway.
Josh, being the hero that he is, has
rung ahead posing as my personal assistant - which you could argue doesn’t
require much pretending, but don’t tell him I said that. Anyway, he’s said that
I need a room on short notice, and that I’m meeting one of their guests, a Mr.
Jackson, for a business lunch later today. He explained I’m running late, and
to speed things along, it’d be a big help if I could have Mr. Jackson’s room
number, so I can ring him from my room and let him know when I arrive. This was
no problem for the very helpful member of staff who wanted to make a good
impression on two of their richest guests.
I walked through the large, revolving
doors and into the lobby of the hotel. It was enormous. The floor was a
polished marble tile with various patterns on it. On the left was the front
desk, with three people busily talking into their respective phones. There was
a woman on the right with cropped blonde hair, roughly mid-forties. In the
middle was a slightly younger guy with glasses on, and next to him on the left
was a young girl with long dark hair and too much make-up. To the right was a
large dining area, which I think was their own, very fancy, in-house
restaurant. It had a waiter wearing a tuxedo stood by a podium that had the
reservations book and menu on it. In front of me was a row of three elevators,
and either side of them was a large staircase disappearing upwards, out of
sight.
I walked over to the front desk and
waited until one of the clerks had finished their phone conversation. It was
the young girl with dark hair who hung up first. She looked at me and smiled.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ she said. ‘Welcome
to The Four Seasons. How may I help you today?’
‘Good afternoon, Miss,’ I replied, in my
best businessman voice, and with my best boardroom smile. ‘I have a reservation
with yourselves. The name is Marvin Aday.’
You didn’t honestly think I’d use my own
name, did you?
Josh tends to create my personas for
such occasions, keeping it entertaining by using legends of the rock industry
as inspiration for the names.
‘Thank you, Mr. Aday. Just give me a
moment to bring up your room information.’
She pressed some buttons on her keyboard
and began programming my room key card. I looked around with a practiced
nonchalance as I was waiting. I’d changed into a smart casual outfit of a shirt
and tie with jeans and shoes. I had a briefcase with me, and I looked ever the
businessman. Obviously, if people knew that in my briefcase I had a gun, a
spare magazine, some plastic cable ties and a remote control surveillance
camera, they probably wouldn’t buy into my image as much.
‘Here you are, Mr. Aday,’ said the young
girl as she handed me my room key. ‘You’re on the fifteenth floor, room fifteen
twenty-three.’
‘That’s great, thank you.’
I made my way over to the elevators and
got in the first one that arrived on the ground floor. I pressed the button for
15 and the doors closed. Josh had found out that Jackson is staying in the
Summer suite, which is situated roughly in the center of the sixteenth floor.
Conveniently, directly above my room.
Anyone would think I’ve done this sort
of thing before.
I rode the elevator to my floor and
stepped out into the hallway. The carpet was neutral-colored and
expensive-looking, with the walls complimenting the look by being much the
same. There was artwork on the walls. Nothing I recognized – probably local
artists keen for some cheap advertising, or someone dead who was so obscure, it
would be seen as fashionable to have their work up on display.
I checked the brass plaques to see which
direction my room was. I turned right out of the elevator and headed down the
corridor toward my room.
There was no sign of life anywhere. Was
too late in the day for the maids to still be clearing out the rooms of the
people who left earlier on this morning. I imagined most rooms on the floor
would be empty now, although I walked past one door and you could hear two
people having sex quite loudly. The woman was putting too much effort into the
vocals, and was clearly faking it, but judging by the occasional grunt you
could hear from the guy, I don’t think he cared all that much.
I smiled and walked on, until I came
level with my door on the left: Room 1523. I took a deep breath, calming myself
for what lay ahead, and pressed the keycard against the lock pad. It beeped
once, and I heard the lock slide back inside the door. I turned the handle and
opened the door.
TEN
I entered my hotel
room, placed my briefcase on the bed, removed my tie and rolled my shirt
sleeves up. After all these years, I still get a buzz of adrenaline when I’m on
a job. It’s weird, I know, but I love what I do. In a non-psychopathic kind of
way.
I didn’t pay much attention to hotel
room itself. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I just walked over to
the TV, turned it on and found the music channels. VH1 was showing a classic
rock Top 100 show, and Thin Lizzy was halfway through “
The Boys Are Back In
Town
”. I turned the volume up, smiled, and went over to the bed and opened
my briefcase.
I placed my bluetooth headset on my ear
and dialed Josh. He answered as I was singing.
‘The jukebox in the corner blasting out
my favorite song... The nights are gettin’ warmer it, won’t be long...’
To his credit, he responded immediately.
‘Won’t be long ‘til summer comes... Now
that the boys are here again...’
All together now.
‘The boys are back in town, the boys are
back in town!’
We laughed.
Nothing ruins a job more than tension
and hesitation. Best thing to do is relax, clear your head and just do it. Not
procedurally, but instinctively. Let your hands and your mind and your eyes
just do what they know they need to. Go with the flow, as the saying goes.
‘I see preparations are going well,’
Josh said, still laughing.
‘As always,’ I replied. ‘Jackson’s
directly above me now. Is everything in place with the hotel?’
‘Sure is. If you ring room service in
four minutes, their afternoon shift will have started, and the guy who brings
you your food should be roughly your height and build.’
‘Excellent. And the drill?’
‘Should be under your bed, near the
window.’
‘Josh, for all of your annoying habits,
you are an absolute genius. How do you do it?’
‘C’mon, Adrian, you know a magician
never reveals how he does his tricks.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not paying a magician,
I’m paying you. Take the compliment and spill.’
‘Well, you know the guy on the front
desk?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re also paying him.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do I pay a lot of people that I don’t
know about?’
‘Now that would be telling,’ he said, with
a knowing smile that I could feel down the phone.
‘I think I need to hire an independent
accountant - you seem to be spending my fortune on all sorts.’
‘Adrian, if I was going to screw you out
of any money, I’d have done it and gone a long time ago.’
‘Very true. Right, I’m gonna go do my
thing. Ring you when it’s done.’
‘Take it easy big guy.’
I hung up and used the room phone to
ring down to the front desk and order some room service. Then I moved round the
bed, got on my knees and looked underneath it. Sure enough, there was small,
industrial drill. The drill bit in the end was a quarter inch wide and close to
a foot and a half long. I picked it up and pressed the trigger to check it
worked. It did, and it was surprisingly quiet, which was perfect. I got up and
moved a chair against the wall nearest the windows and drilled a hole right
through the ceiling. This was probably the riskiest part of the job, but the
quiet drill coupled with the loud music on my TV should mask the noise in the
room above. Unless I was desperately unlucky, and Jackson was stood directly on
or near where I was drilling, he shouldn’t notice.
The drill broke through the ceiling and
the floor above. I removed it quickly and waited a moment, to see if there was
any reaction. Satisfied I’d remained undiscovered, I went back over to the bed
and retrieved the camera and monitoring unit from my briefcase. The camera was
a long, thin, flexible cord about three feet long. It was attached to a small
notebook-style computer. The seven inch monitor showed what the camera saw.
Where the keyboard would be were two joysticks, which could be used to move
both the camera cord and the lens. I booted it up, then fed the camera through
the hole I’d just drilled slowly, until it reached the floor of Jackson’s
suite. I had the computer in my left hand, and was working the joysticks with
my right, as I stood on the chair. I looked around with the camera. His suite
was huge, which posed a slight issue. Given he had, from what I could see, four
rooms in total, it was difficult to get a true reflection of who was with him,
if anyone, as I could only see into the main lounge area. I could see Jackson
sat at a desk, his head resting in his right hand as he concentrated on
whatever he was looking at. I could see the double doors that led out to the
hall, and I could see three doors leading off from the main room. Two were
closed, but one was open slightly. It was to the right of the entrance doors. I
made a mental note to check that room first, just in case. But other than that,
he appeared alone in his suite.
There was a knock on my door, and a
voice outside announced itself as room service. I retracted the camera, climbed
down off the chair, put the camera on the bed and retrieved my gun from the
briefcase. The weight of my Beretta was always a comfort in my hand. I knew I
had complete control of any situation when I had a hold of this gun.
I moved over to the door and opened it,
stepping behind it as I did. As the guy walked into the room with a tray in
both hands, I pushed the door shut and stepped forward. He turned his head,
caught by surprise, and before he could say anything, I slammed the butt of my
gun into his right temple. He slumped to the floor, unconscious before the tray
crashed down next to him.
Goodnight sweetheart.
ELEVEN
I knocked on
the door of the Summer Suite on the sixteenth floor, directly above my own
hotel room. The uniform I’d borrowed fitted reasonably well. My gun, now
equipped with its silencer, was tucked in the back of my pants and covered by
the bottom of my waistcoat. I was carrying the tray that had been dropped in my
room. I hope he’s not genuinely hungry, because I didn’t salvage much of the caesar
salad that fell on my floor, and it looks awful.
‘Who is it?’ a frustrated voice asked
from inside the room.
‘Room service,’ I replied.
There was a brief pause.
‘I didn’t order anything, and I do not
wish to be disturbed.’
‘Ah, dammit! Listen, I’m sorry for the
mix-up, sir,’ I said. ‘The thing is, I need you to sign to say that you refused
the delivery before I can return it.’
There was more silence. I continued my
sales pitch.
‘I’m really sorry to trouble you with
this, sir. It’s just if I don’t have the correct paperwork, I’m going to get in
a lot of trouble. Can you please just quickly sign this, and I’ll be out of
your way.’
I heard movement from inside the room.
Bingo! I balanced the tray on my left hand and reached behind me, wrapping my
right hand around my gun.
I heard the bolt unfasten. I saw the
handle turn. My plan was to drop the tray as the door opened so the noise
masked any sound from my gun as I shot him between the eyes. Then I’d drag his
body into the room, shutting the door behind me. I’d search everywhere for any
paperwork relating to the plot of land he was going to sell to Pellaggio, then
clean the entire scene of any trace I’d been there, then leave.
That was the plan anyway.
However, as the door opened, it wasn’t
Ted Jackson stood in front of me. It was a tall, gorgeous, leather-clad woman.
She was holding a gun in a very steady hand, and she was aiming it right
between my eyes.
Shit!
The seconds that passed between us felt
like hours. For me, at least. The silence was deafening, and everything seemed
to freeze. My mind was racing, purposefully, rushing to find a solution that
didn’t involve me being shot.
There weren’t many, I’ll be honest.
I soon came to the conclusion that if
she wanted me dead, I would be. Therefore, it’s probably best to let this play
out for now, until I was in a better position.
‘Hi,’ she said. Her accent was hard to
pinpoint. It sounded like a blend of different European countries, with a hint
of American.
‘Hey,’ I replied.
‘Room service? That’s original.’
‘Well, you know what they say: if it ain’t
broke...’
‘Send a fixer?’
‘Something like that.’
For a moment, I thought I saw her let
slip a small, half smile. But I could be wrong. I wasn’t really looking
anywhere but at the end of the gun that was pointing at my face.
‘Do come in,’ she said.
I stepped inside the suite. It really
was huge. I took a quick glance around, absorbing everything. The layout and the
position of the doors and the furniture. I glanced over at Jackson, who was
still sat at his desk, but had turned around to see what was happening. His
face showed more disinterest than concern - clearly a level-headed guy who’s no
stranger to dangerous situations. Interesting.
I turned around to face the woman, who
still hadn’t moved the gun even a millimeter. She looked very similar to when I
first saw her yesterday afternoon. Her dyed blonde hair was long and slightly
curly, resting on her shoulders. She had dark green eyes, which were very
pretty, but there was no emotion in them - none at all.
She was starting to concern me, simply
for the fact she was so at ease with pointing a gun at me. Most people, even
seasoned veterans at such things, will be on edge a little when holding a gun
on someone. Don’t let anyone tell you different. And don’t believe what you see
on TV. If you have a gun on someone, your whole body is tense. You’re trying to
remain calm, as the slightest wrong movement could accidentally kill someone.
Your finger has to maintain the right amount of pressure on the trigger, and
the slightest movement that you’ve not anticipated, and your twitch muscles will
kick in and your gun will fire off a round. You also have to consider every
eventuality around you, such as the person you’re pointing your gun at making a
move on you. If they do, you have to maintain control of your gun to avoid it
going off in any struggle that might unfold. Finally, you have to prepare
yourself for pulling the trigger and being so close to the body that you see
the effects. You only learn to deal with those things, and be more calm and
natural when faced with them, after many years of experience. Right now, this
woman was showing she has roughly the same amount of experience I do.
She took a step toward me and leant in
close. She reached behind me and took my gun out of my pants.
‘You won’t be needing this,’ she said.
She threw it on the floor without a second thought.
‘I want that back, it’s very special to
me,’ I said.
She raised her eyebrow.
‘I’m gonna put my tray down now, okay?’
I continued. ‘Just letting you know so you don’t shoot me or anything.’
‘Go for it,’ she said.
I had the tray in both hands. I knelt
down to place it on the floor, but at the last minute, I frizbeed the tray into
her legs, right on the knees. It caught her off guard and she lost her balance,
causing her to lower her gun. I jumped back up and stepped in close to her,
grabbing her right arm and moving so I had my back to her. Keeping her gun arm
under control with my right arm and my upper body, I used my left elbow to jab
her in her stomach, then again in her face. She fell backward against the door,
stunned but not out of it. She’d dropped her gun, which I’d very quickly bent
down to retrieve.
Don’t get me wrong, despite what I do
for a living, I wouldn’t hit a woman as a rule. But given she had a gun, and
took me by surprise, I figured the bitch had it coming.
As this was happening, Ted Jackson’s
cool, calm demeanor had left the premises, leaving the quivering wreck I now
saw before me. Papers were scattered as he scrambled out of his chair and made
a run for one of the other rooms.
‘Teddy, be cool,’ I said, and promptly
shot him in the foot with his bodyguard’s gun. He stumbled and fell and started
bleeding all over the expensive carpet. He was screaming, which was
understandable, but a little annoying. I walked over and kicked him in the side
of the head. He stopped screaming.
I looked back over at the front door and
the woman was getting to her feet, shaking her head to clear it. I aimed the
gun at her.
‘Don’t do it, darlin’ - I’m better than
you are.’
