The International Assassin A Sexy Times Crime Thriller (21 page)

“Zurich.”

“Why the hell should I help you? You are only going to kill me.”

“There are worse things than dying Roy. We could hand you over to your friends the Russians. They will do much worse to you if you can’t pay them.”

“You wouldn’t do that. They are after you as well.”

“I can handle them.”

“Little Miss Assassin. I trained you well.”

“You did nothing Roy. It was me. It was always me, you just think you were playing me. But maybe I was playing you?”

“I doubt that.”

“Come on Roy. You are an electrician from Luton. What do you actually know about me other than what I told you? You have no idea who I am.”

“I did checks.”

“Maybe You found out what I wanted you to find out.”

“So who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare. The cause of all your problems. But lucky for you that you still have your uses.”

“What do you want?”

“Information. Anatoly, Vladimir’s brother. We’ve taken care of his minions. You are going to serve him up on a plate for us.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m prepared to let your little treacherous scheme go. Forgive and forget. Maybe just a bullet through the knee or cut one of your balls off as a reminder. Co-operate and you escape with your life and your little bitch conspirator Charlotte.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t. But you don’t have any options. My new acquaintance wants to throw you to the wolves. Six, CIA, FSB, they are all lining up for your blood. We could just put you on Ebay and sell you to the highest bidder.”

“Alright. If I co-operate you’ll let me go?”

“I want names. Addresses. Contact protocols. Details of every hit you have undertaken, your contacts in Luxembourg, shell companies you parked my property in. I want to know everything you know about your sordid plan and I want the rest of my money you have in Zurich back.”

“I’ll be left with nothing!”

“Not nothing, you’ve still got Charlotte. Maybe you can get a nice flat in Hackney together.”

I got up to leave.

“I suppose a second chance is out of the question?”

I glared at him and put the gun to his head.

“You are lucky to be still breathing.”

I went to the hotel desk and took out a pad of paper and a pen and returned with it. I cut Roy’s right arm loose and handed it him. Roy was still reluctant to co-operate.

“What happens if I don’t?”

“A rendition flight to a north African dictatorship and two gentleman pull your teeth and toenails out with pliers.” I checked my watch. “You’ve got ten minutes. And if you tell Nick about any of this I will kill you.”

“It seems I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

“The difference is Roy I’m on the same side as Nick. I’m working to protect him. You are just a petty thief.”

I got up and headed for the hotel room. I picked up the phone and dialled the number I had memorised.

“I want to make a deal,” I said.

I checked through the information Roy had provided.

“Is this it?”

“That’s everything.”

“They don’t tell you very much do they?”

“I’m just the messenger boy.”

“Do they know who you really are?”

“No. And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“That’s everything I know. What now?”

“Zurich. I want the rest of my money back.”

“Look you could leave us with something. I won’t last five minutes otherwise.”

“You can have two return Easyjet tickets to Luton. I suggest you go back to being an electrician.”

I tied him up again and gagged him then headed out of the bathroom to the bedroom.

I hid the papers in my bag  before Nick returned with the car.

“Everything OK?”

“Fine.”

“Did they give you any trouble?”

“Not at all.”

“And you?”

“I didn’t touch them. Honestly. It would be nice if you would trust me from time to time.”

“I do.”

“What are we going to do with them to get them across the border?”

“Put them in the boot.”

“And if they look in the boot?”

“Let’s hope they don’t. Four million cash and two bodies would take some explaining - even in Switzerland.”

We took shifts during the night to guard our prisoners in order to each get some sleep. We would set off early morning before eight to hit the border at the busiest crossing time. The theory being even the efficient Swiss border police wouldn’t be as thorough as usual in order to keep the traffic lines down. With EU passports we would only warrant a scant check.

Just before first light we bundled Charlotte and Roy into the usefully capacious boot of the S8 and made the short drive to the border and joined the line for the passport control. 

“Look calm,” said Nick.

“We’ve got four million in cash and two people tied up in the boot. Why wouldn’t I be calm?”

Nick drove to the passport booth and handed our passports over. The guard gave us a cursory look before swiping our passports on the computer, tense seconds went past as we waited for the computer to light up with whatever crimes real or imagined might be listed against us.

“One moment please,” the border guard said politely as he picked up the phone and dialled a number. Nick nodded. The car was in gear and he had his foot on the brake ready but in all honesty trying to break through the heavily guarded border would be suicide. The Border guard nodded and put the phone down.

“Mister Salinger. Could you pull in at the border post to your right? There is a phone call from your employers,” he said then handed our passports back to us. “Enjoy your stay in Switzerland.”

Nick nodded.

“Thank you,” said Nick.

He drove calmly over to the shed like building behind the border post. 

“Problem?” I asked.

“Maybe,” replied Nick. “If I’m not back in five minutes you should leave.”

“I’ll stay.”

Nick got out of the car and walked across to the border hut. I honked the horn, he turned round and walked back and I lowered the window then handed him the piece of paper with the information I had acquired from Roy.

“This is what they want,” I said.

Nick took the paper and read it frowning.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“Roy was very talkative. I thought we might need some collateral.”

“You are full of surprises.”

“Good luck.”

Nick headed away into the small hut. I played some music while I waited for him.

The information I had procured from Roy was valuable to more than just MI6. I had hoped to hang on to it so I could trade it at a later date and solve my own situation but Nick had already put his head on the block to get me this far and I didn’t want to see him hung out by his employers in return. Nick returned five minutes later and got back in the car.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” he said.

 “So what did they want?”

“Anatoly. He left St Petersburg this morning on a private jet routed into Zurich. They want him dead.”

“That’s good news isn’t it? Means you aren’t in trouble?”

“I’m still in trouble but they will ignore it as long as I remain useful to them.”

“Until Anatoly is dead you mean?”

“Something like that.”

Nick handed back the piece of paper to me.

“You better keep this in a safe place. We might need that as a bargaining chip later.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Good work.”

“Thanks. I didn’t even have to do anything painful to him.”

“So why did he talk?”

“I threatened to put him on a plane back to Luton.”

“That’s probably against the Geneva convention on torture.”

“So we’re okay then?”

Nick handed me a tracking code.

‘They’ve sent a diplomatic case to Zurich with replacement kit. We can pick up a clean car at the airport once we’ve been to the bank and disposed of Roy.”

“I said I wouldn’t kill him. In return for the information.”

“Well I didn’t.”

“And Charlotte?”

“She knows too much.”

Nick fired up the Audi and headed on the autoroute towards Zurich. It was snowing heavily so I was glad Nick had opted to get the windscreen repaired.

“We need to go shopping,” I told him. 

“After the bank,” he smiled at me. 

“What you are smiling about?”

“Some things never change.”

“We did leave all our clothes in the hotel.”

“Good point.”

We arrived into Zurich in the middle of the afternoon and Nick headed straight for the
Credit Suisse
branch in the centre of the city and found a small back alley to park in.

“Right. You’re going to go into the bank with Roy and make the transfer. I will stay here with Charlotte.”

“Okay. And if he doesn’t co-operate?”

“He will.”

Nick took out his pistol and walked to the back of the car. I got out and followed him. We dragged Roy and Charlotte out of the boot and un-gagged them. There was a distinct smell of stale urine from the both of them.

“Did you piss in the boot?” I asked Roy in disgust.

“We’ve been in there for hours! What do you expect?”

“It serves you right! Have you any idea how vile my stay in that Hackney police station was? You stink.”

“I need a shower,” Roy replied sullenly.

“I want my money.”

“I can’t go into the bank smelling of piss.”

“You should have thought of that before you wet yourself.”

Nick put the gun to his head and cocked the pistol.

“I don’t need to explain to you that if you don’t do everything we say things are going to go very badly for you and Charlotte.”

“No you don’t.”

“You’ve got ten minutes. You cause any problems,” Nick said and put the gun to Charlotte’s head. She started crying. “And I’m going to kill her.”

“What makes you think I care about her?”

“Because if I kill her when her dad catches up to you things will end much worse for you. We’ll wait outside the bank.”

Nick put them in the back of the car and we drove round to the front and found a discreet parking space, I got out and led Roy into the bank.

“What makes you think he is any better than I am? He’ll kill you when he gets your money you know.”

“No he won’t.”

“Because you think he loves you? He’s no better than the rest of us. He’s using you.”

“You’d like to think that wouldn’t you?”

“He’s going to kill all of us and take the money. Let’s do a deal now, we kill him then you give me some money and I’ll disappear with Charlotte.”

“Not a chance.”

“You trust him and not me?”

“I think the reason for that is self-explanatory.”

I hustled Roy into the bank and over to the reception desk. I prodded Roy in the ribs.

“I have an account with you. I’d like to make a transfer,” he told the receptionist.

“If you would like to write your account number down then one of our private client bankers will be with you presently,” the receptionist replied. 

I watched Roy as he wrote the account number down to ensure he wasn’t foolish enough to write an SOS message or any other such trickery. He handed the paper reluctantly to the receptionist who then summoned a clerk who took the paper slip from her. 

“If you’d like to take a seat for a moment,” the clerk said.

I grabbed Roy and we went and sat on the smart sofas in the private clients lounge and waited. A well-dressed Swiss banker arrived within minutes and smiled at Roy.

“Mister Van Sant? Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, shook his hand and sniffed the air before trying to hide his disgust at the stench of stale piss emanating from Roy.

“If you’d like to come this way.”

The banker led us through to a small private clients room where he offered us a seat and opened a file.

“You’d like to make a transfer I understand. How much for?”

“The entire balance,” Roy replied reluctantly. 

The banker took out an electronic fingerprint ID pad and typed in the account number onto the terminal.

“If you’d like to authorise please,” he said and gestured at the pad. Roy put his fingers on the ID pad. It scanned them before glowing green. “Perfect.”

The banker typed away on the keyboard.

“Your balance is twenty-eight million, six-hundred and eighty-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two Euros. You would like to transfer all of it?”

“Yes,” replied Roy sulking at the loss of his ill-gotten gains.

“Do you have details of the account you would like to transfer it to?”

I wrote down my account details on a piece of paper.

“I’d like the money transferred to this Coutts account please,” I said and passed him the paper. 

The banker nodded and smiled politely clearly thinking the transfer was the result of a divorce settlement rather than the outcome of Roy’s elaborate theft attempt.

“Very good. One moment please,” he said.

The banker continued typing away to make the transfer. Roy started sobbing as he watched his years of plotting evaporate with a few strokes of a keyboard. The banker looked uncomfortable. 

“Are you okay Sir? A glass of water perhaps?”

“He’s fine. He’s from Yorkshire. They are always like this when they have to part with money.”

“Of course,” the banker smiled politely.

The printer whirred into life and the banker got up and retrieved the transfer form.

“If you would just like to sign here.”

Roy signed the paper reluctantly and handed it over. The Banker continued tapping on the keyboard.

“The transfer is complete. The money will be in your new account within ten minutes exactly,” he said and handed me back my account number to Roy. I grabbed it off him before he had a chance to read it then tore it to pieces and discarded it in the bin.

“Is there anything else we can do for you today? Perhaps you would like to freshen up?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “I want to get to the shops before they close.”

“I’d like to use the bathroom.” Roy chipped in quickly. I glared at him.

“Of course. Right this way Sir.” Roy quickly got up and followed the banker through the door. I tried to grab him but he was too quick.