Better Off Dead: (Victor the Assassin 4) Read online

  ‘I really don’t like your tone. I never knew my real dad, but you’re not him. You’re not even my stepfather. So don’t talk to me like that. I want to speak to Yigor. Now.’

  ‘That’s a risk I’m not prepared to take.’

  ‘What do you mean by that? Yigor’s on our side.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But at this present time I don’t know how those men found us at the warehouse. There’s a good chance one of your stepfather’s men sold you out. Only one of the men he sent here is still alive. And that man conveniently happened to have been absent from the warehouse when it was attacked.’

  She stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief. ‘No way. You can’t possibly be serious. Yigor would never do that.’

  ‘Then the team must have been shadowing you this whole time and for some reason opted to wait until you had armed guards before moving in.’

  Her mouth hung open for a moment. ‘What was that, sarcasm? Great time to find your sense of humour. Don’t mock me, okay? And don’t need to be dismissive of my opinion either.’

  ‘Okay,’ Victor said.

  ‘It’s ridiculous to think Yigor had anything to do with that. He used to drive me to school, for fuck’s sake. Trust me, he wouldn’t.’

  ‘Drive nice and slow,’ Anderton told Wade. ‘Don’t pull up directly outside. Park like we’re guests. He might be watching.’

  The mercenary nodded and steered the Range Rover through the hotel’s large car park at the building’s east side. He drove as instructed, slow.

  ‘There,’ Anderton said, pointing to a free space some twenty metres from the hotel.

  Wade guided the vehicle to a stop.

  She radioed Unit One: ‘Okay, we’re here. Wait ninety seconds and join us. Park further away and secure the perimeter. Don’t break cover unless I explicitly say so.’ She released the send button and looked at Sinclair. ‘Ready?’

  Inside the lobby, Anderton led the two men straight to the front desk. They all wore civilian attire, jackets done up to hide weapons.

  ‘Let me do the talking.’

  A pretty blonde with too much make-up smiled at them. Before she had a chance to say a word, Anderton said, ‘Get your manager. Now.’

  He was a short man in his fifties with a pronounced gut. Anderton showed him her credentials and he read them with eyebrows raised.

  He said, ‘You’d better come with me.’

  In a small office behind the lobby, he asked, ‘What is it that I can do for you?’

  ‘I’m here because of a potential threat to national security.’

  ‘My God, do you mean terrorists?’

  ‘I can’t divulge that information at this stage,’ Anderton said. ‘I need the room number of one of your guests. A single man, Caucasian, early to mid thirties, short dark hair. Tall. Well dressed. He’ll have a young woman with him.’

  The manager swallowed. Nervous. ‘What… what’s his name?’

  ‘We don’t have a name, but we do know he checked in yesterday morning.’

  ‘Madam, we have hundreds of guests at any one time. I’m sure there are dozens who match that description. Most of whom are accompanied by a lady friend. Some don’t even stay the night, if you know what I mean. So, I’m not sure I can help you without more information. Would you like me to print you off a list of guests?’

  Anderton smiled to put him at ease. ‘Show me the footage from your security cameras.’

  In a small, claustrophobic room, Sinclair and Anderton stood behind a big hotel security guard who sat in front of a bank of video monitors and equipment. The manager had shown them to the room, then hurriedly left.

  ‘So,’ the guard began as he manipulated the controls, ‘what’s this guy done?’

  ‘That’s classified,’ Anderton said.

  ‘What camera did you want to take a look at? We’ve got twenty-two to choose from. I can give you Car Park A, Car Park B, Car Park C, Lobby A, Lobby B —’

  ‘Lobby. Whichever one covers people passing through the main entrance.’

  ‘Gotcha.’ He pressed a few keys on the keyboard before him. ‘And what timecode did you want me to look at?’

  ‘Go back five hours,’ Sinclair said. ‘And cycle through from there. It’s not complicated.’

  The guard sighed and shook his head as he rewound the footage from the hotel lobby. ‘Hey, chill out, man. You don’t have to take that tone with me, I’m only doing my job here.’

  ‘Then shut up and do it.’

  He looked back over his shoulder. ‘Shit, you can’t talk to me like that.’ He took his hands from the controls in a show of defiance. ‘You’re not my boss, you…’ he put on a bad imitation of Sinclair’s accent, ‘you fucking South African prick.’

  In a second the guard was off the chair, face forced into the floor, his right arm twisted behind his back, Sinclair holding his wrist and elbow, ready to break the arm with an ounce more pressure. The guard yelled in pain.

  ‘Easy,’ Anderton said. ‘Easy, we don’t have to do it that way. He’s sorry.’ She looked at the guard. ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sinclair released him. ‘Then work faster and keep your lips shut or I’ll chew them off your face.’

  The guard pulled himself off the floor and slid back on to his chair. Grimacing, he returned to the controls. He rewound the footage to the requested timecode and then played it forward.

  ‘Take it to eight times speed,’ Anderton said.

  He did so and they watched the rapid, jerky movements of guests and staff entering the hotel and passing through the lobby. Anderton noticed Sinclair’s teeth were grinding together.

  ‘Stop.’ Anderton clicked her fingers. ‘That’s him. Play it.’

  On the screen a man entered the lobby, only his back visible. He was dressed in a suit and had short dark hair, but no other features were obvious. Trailing a few metres behind him was a young woman.

  Anderton left the room. She gestured for the blonde receptionist to follow her. Back inside the viewing room, she pointed at the screen.

  ‘Who’s that man?’

  The receptionist leaned forward and looked closely, her brow furrowed. The monitor showed two figures walking past the reception desk and heading for the stairs.

  ‘He walked past you three and a half hours ago,’ Sinclair prompted.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ she said. ‘I remember him. He was a nice guy. Thompson, I think his name is.’

  ‘What room is he in?’ Anderton asked.

  ‘Three-ten. Why? What did he do?’

  The guard said, ‘Don’t ask, Layla.’

  Anderton frowned as she left the room with Sinclair in tow. ‘This is too easy. Something’s not right.’

  Sinclair said, ‘I like easy.’

  FIFTY-ONE

  ‘They could have been following you for all we know,’ protested Gisele. ‘You could have led them straight to me.’

  ‘That’s better,’ Victor said. ‘That’s the kind of critical thinking you should be using. You can’t work on the simplest assumption. You have to consider every eventuality.’

  She stared at him. ‘Oh, very clever. Nice way to get me to come round to your way of thinking and make it seem like it was my conclusion. But I’m not dumb enough to fall for it, so I’d appreciate it if that was the first and last time, all right?’

  ‘I chose the most straightforward way to make my point. I don’t have time to teach you everything.’

  ‘Teach me? Are you fucking serious? Teach me what?’

  Victor took a breath. ‘Easy on the language, okay? I’ve given you a pass until now because of the circumstances, but I don’t appreciate it.’

  ‘You think I care what you appreciate? I don’t appreciate you killing people in front of me either.’

  ‘Would you prefer it if I only killed people when you weren’t looking?’

  She took a breath like Victor had, only a deeper one that she held longer and let out slower. ‘I’m not going to allo
w myself to be pulled into these stupid arguments. You’re protecting me, sure. Thanks. But I won’t be treated like an idiot.’

  ‘Good. It’s not my intention to treat you like one. I’m trying to teach you how to survive this. The men after you are extremely dangerous. They are ex-military and they will kill us both if we don’t do everything right. Do you understand that?’

  Gisele said, ‘You can’t stop me caring what happened to Dmitri and the others.’

  ‘I happened to them,’ Victor said. ‘I left them. You’re my priority, not your father’s gangsters. I did what I could to help them, but the only thing that mattered was getting you out of there. They provided a useful distraction for our enemies.’

  ‘You’re saying you used them as human shields?’

  ‘Would you prefer to be dead in their place?’ She looked appalled but didn’t answer. ‘Bear that in mind. And don’t waste your compassion on those men. Each and every one is – was – a killer. They don’t deserve it.’

  ‘You killed people too. I saw you. Does that mean you don’t deserve my compassion either?’

  ‘I deserve it even less than your father’s men.’

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘If you’re going to survive this,’ Victor said more quietly, ‘you’ve got to have an utterly selfish mindset. If you have to run over a street full of people to live another day, then you do it.’

  ‘I would never do that.’

  ‘Then if comes to it I’ll have to do it for you.’

  ‘You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being. Do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve had a niggling suspicion.’

  ‘And it doesn’t bother you?’

  ‘Very few things bother me.’

  ‘You can’t honestly believe the things you say.’

  ‘We’re programmed to survive. Whether you believe that was instilled into us by evolution or God, that’s who we are. We’re survivors. Civilised society only exists when survival is not at stake. Put a person in fear for their life and see how much attention they pay to morality. You said yourself that morality needs to be enforced by the law.’

  ‘Yes, because there are bad people out there. I didn’t mean that all people are inherently evil. I’d say you have a very pessimistic view of the world, but if you ask me it’s a thinly veiled justification to do terrible things. But you don’t have to be that way. You have a choice. It’s never too late to change who you are. Make a fresh start. Be a good person. You never know, you might find you prefer yourself like that.’

  ‘If I were a good person we’d both be dead by now.’

  While three of the mercenaries maintained the perimeter, jackets zipped up to hide their body armour and weapons, Rogan joined Anderton, Sinclair and Wade in a corridor leading out of the lobby.

  ‘The target’s location has been identified,’ Anderton reiterated to the men outside. ‘We’re moving up. Be alert, but maintain your distance.’

  She didn’t want to alarm people unnecessarily or risk the target spotting them from his window. It was the middle of the night but the area was far from empty of people.

  The reply came: ‘Copy.’

  ‘Okay,’ she whispered to the three men with her. ‘Unit One has the perimeter, but it’s loose. We don’t want them getting past us on the way, so let’s do this nice and fast, but smooth. Sinclair and I will take the lift. Rogan and Wade, you guys ascend the far staircase so we come to their corridor from either end. Don’t get jittery, boys, there are too many people here to risk a negligent discharge. All set?’

  The elevator arrived at the third floor and Anderton and Sinclair entered the corridor. Both had pistols drawn and ready. Anderton whispered into her radio: ‘Unit Two in position.’

  She signalled to Sinclair and they moved down the corridor, Anderton on the left, the South African on the right.

  Wade’s voice came through her earpiece: ‘This is Unit Three, we have reached the third floor.’

  They turned a corner and saw the two mercenaries at the far end of the corridor. Simultaneously, the two groups moved with caution towards the door marked 310.

  ‘Okay,’ Anderton whispered. ‘That’s near enough. Wade and Sinclair go in first and secure the main room. Rogan and I follow. Rogan, clear the bathroom. I’ll watch your backs. Okay, close in.’

  They crept forward. Wade and Sinclair took up positions either side of the door, with Rogan and Anderton behind them. She could taste sweat on her lips. This was it.

  ‘Green light.’

  FIFTY-TWO

  Wade aimed at the room’s lock with a twelve-bore pump-action shotgun fitted with a nine-inch Hushpower suppressor. The blast disintegrated the lock and Sinclair charged in through the busted door. Rogan followed him, each man sweeping a different half of the room, Wade entering last, disappearing into the bathroom.

  ‘CLEAR,’ he shouted.

  ‘Clear,’ Rogan stated.

  Sinclair, lowering his gun: ‘Fucking crystal.’

  Anderton stepped into the lit room. No Gisele. No killer. She was annoyed, but not as surprised as the three men. It had felt too easy.

  ‘Check under the bed,’ Sinclair said.

  Wade shook his head. ‘There’s not enough room,’

  ‘Do it.’

  He squatted down and made a play of lifting up the skirting. There was only a two-inch gap.

  Anderton radioed the mercenaries outside. ‘They’re not here. Be alert.’ She walked over to the window, rested her palm on the sill, and whispered, ‘Where are you?’

  Across the street, Victor turned around from arguing with Gisele to see a woman with blonde hair in his other hotel room. He remembered Linnekin’s description of her: blonde, tall, well dressed, all business. He couldn’t see if her eyes were green, but this was her.

  He stood still, watching. She did not look happy in the slightest. He felt a small measure of satisfaction at her anger, but that didn’t change the fact Gisele’s enemies were closer than he wanted.

  With the curtains almost fully drawn he wouldn’t be seen in return. He could see men in the room behind her – two or three. The mercenaries.

  The others must be elsewhere, but nearby. They would be here in force.

  For now, they didn’t know the room was a decoy.

  Victor looked at Gisele. ‘Get dressed.’

  ‘Where is this fucker?’ Sinclair asked to anyone who was listening.

  Anderton ignored him. She said, ‘Clear out and search the hotel. They might still be on the premises: bar, restaurant, fitness suite. Look everywhere.’

  Sinclair, Wade and Rogan withdrew, leaving Anderton alone with her thoughts.

  She had sensed something wasn’t right beforehand. Now, her instincts had been proved correct. She circled the room. The bedclothes were mussed. In the bathroom, a towel was damp. Complimentary toiletries had been opened. All suggesting the room had been used and they’d missed them. Yet…

  She approached the bed. She stared at the pillow. It was squashed in the centre. The pillowcase was the perfect white of hotel-laundered linens. She looked closely, leaning in.

  ‘No hairs,’ she said to herself.

  Neither short dark hairs from the assassin nor longer red hairs from Gisele.

  Anderton turned to face the window. The curtains were not fully closed. Interesting. More significant than that though was the freestanding mirror sitting on the sill.

  She was careful in her actions to appear casual, as if she had not realised what was happening. This was not the killer’s room. This was a ruse. This was a shield. A decoy. And Anderton had fallen for it.

  Seemingly in an idle wander she approached the window. She placed both hands on the window sill once again and gazed out, emitting a long sigh of frustration and annoyance. She resisted shaking her head. That might be overkill.

  There was a hotel on the other side of the street.

  Anderton judged the position of the mirror and the angle and pictured him across the stre
et, standing at one of the windows of the hotel opposite.

  ‘What do we do?’ Gisele asked as she slipped her shoes on, voice high-pitched between rapid breaths.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Victor said, watching the blonde woman sighing in frustration at the window opposite. ‘We’re safe for the moment. We wait for ten minutes to give them time to extract. Then we go.’

  She stood. ‘Where to? How did they find us?’

  ‘Anywhere. We’ll work it out on the way. And they haven’t found us. Stay calm.’

  Making sure to look as if she wasn’t looking, Anderton scanned the hotel across the street. There were dozens of windows, each belonging to a room. Maybe half had windows open or lights on, telling Anderton they were occupied. Norimov’s assassin would have to set up a surveillance point at least at the same floor as the current room. Third or higher. She discounted those rooms on the first two floors.

  Logic would dictate that the room’s lights would not be on, or if not the curtains would be drawn. Mentally, Anderton dropped those rooms that did not apply. That left five rooms. Three on the fourth floor; two on the third. One of the fourth-floor candidates was at the far left of the building, almost on the corner. A height advantage was no good if the horizontal angle was acute. Anderton crossed it off.

  Four left.

  She picked up the room’s phone and called an enquiries line. She told the operator the name of the hotel opposite and hummed quietly while she waited.

  A man answered and asked her what he could do for her.

  Anderton said, ‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Crawley from the Metropolitan Police. I need your help with a case.’

  ‘Oh, okay, what can I do for you?’ was the nervous reply. Anderton pictured someone not dissimilar to the manager of the current hotel.

  ‘It’s quite simple, so please don’t be nervous. A confidential informant of mine is staying in your hotel but I don’t know which room he’s staying in.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Hooper, but he’ll be using an alias for safety reasons. Trouble is, I don’t know what the alias is and I can’t get through on his mobile.’