Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) (38 page)

Katla circled around the smoking sentry and didn’t find anyone else near the shed. The cheap padlock opened without resistance. Pocketing the padlock, she entered the shed, pulled the door closed and used a piece of wire to lift the hinged hasp back in place, hoping no sentry would notice the absence of the padlock. In the dark shed, she located the junction box and removed her backpack. She adjusted her headlamp to focus on the junction box, sprayed the hinges with WD40 and picked the lock. Moving slowly, she opened the lid of the box, pressing a cloth against the hinges to muffle any creaking noises from being carried away on the night air. She squatted down by her backpack, her fingers closing around the packages as she heard a step behind her. She switched off her headlamp and looked through the wooden slats of the shed as two dark figures came into view, the beams of their flashlights penetrating the darkness.

Katla took the blowpipe from her pocket and slipped it through the crack between the wooden slats. She aimed at the dark figures, then moved the blowpipe up and blew hard. Her ribs groaned with the effort, but the two plastic pellets flew noiselessly over the two sentries and clattered somewhere behind them in the darkness. The beams of the flashlights swivelled away from the building as they tried to determine where the noise came from.

As they moved away into the fog, Katla switched her headlamp back on and looked in the junction box. After fixing the small packages to the wire connections, she connected the battery and pulled the switch. She hadn’t installed a control light, so she just had to assume it all worked. She switched off her headlamp and closed the junction box, covering the handle with the cloth to mask the click of the locking mechanism as she pressed down. As she left the shed, she could see the beams of the flash lights in the dark, moving over the ground to find the source of the noise. She put another pellet in the blowpipe and shot it with a wide arch over the sentries. The new noise took them even farther away. Katla padlocked the shed and moved back to the quay again. The smoking sentry either wasn’t there anymore or he wasn’t smoking anymore, but Katla gave the corner wide berth to avoid chance encounters.

Taking her time, she found her way back to the ladder. Katla descended the ladder down to the water line, held her tactical light low over the water, and pressed the back button briefly. A thin beam of three hundred lumen shot out over the water. She counted to twenty, then pressed the button twice more. Out of the darkness, the bow of the Zodiac glided over the water and she breathed a sigh of relief. Climbing aboard, she nearly lost her footing and one of her legs slipped outside the dinghy into the freezing cold harbour water. The splash and her gasp of surprise seemed incredibly loud in the stillness and she rolled into the Zodiac, dragging her wet leg inside. Zeph tossed her a towel and turned the Zodiac around with the paddle. Katla slumped in the bow, watching the quay being swallowed by the fog as the dinghy moved towards the middle of the harbour.

With a blanket wrapped around the outboard, Zeph pulled the starter cord and the small engine puttered to life. Using the illuminated GPS screen in his free hand, he steered them out of the harbour, back to the IJ.

-o-

Nervously pacing the dark quay in front of Sphinx Shipping, Lau looked up at the evening sky. Only stars twinkled in the dark-blue velvet expanse. He didn’t need an almanac to know it was the night of the new moon. The words of the psychic rang in his mind as if she was standing next to him, whispering in his ear.

“The sound of leaving,” he whispered to himself. “Leaving this life.”

Nicky came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “I’m doomed too, right?”

Lau looked at his brother-in-arms. “I know you don’t believe her, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“The tables are turned.” Nicky gave him a cigarette and lit up one himself. “Loki won’t be able to touch us now.”

Lau nodded, but he wasn’t as sure about their victory. Feng had dug up some more information on Loki, and while most of it was unsubstantiated rumours, that alone was a sign that Loki’s expertise shouldn’t be underestimated.
 

Lau had killed plenty of people, but that was always straightforward, like the psychic had foretold. He was a soldier, not an assassin.

“We have the upper hand,” Nicky said. “No matter what that psychic said, it won’t be us who’ll die tonight.”

“How is your arm?”

“The cut was superficial,” Nicky said. “Zhu stitched it up. And I shoot with my right arm.”

“We have superior numbers anyway.” Lau looked around as two Blue Lanterns came around the corner after circling the building. They nodded politely at the Red Poles and walked on to make another circuit. Lau watched them until they turned the corner.

“Pretty useless,” he said. “But at least it’ll give them something to do.”

The walkie talkie hanging from Nicky’s belt crackled and Chen announced Zhang’s arrival. The Vanguard and the Cho Hai got out of the car and Nicky went with them up to the office. Lau was supposed to wait for Sieltjes and frisk her before she was brought up to the office. His thoughts went back to their first meeting. He should’ve noticed the death in her gaze. Her lack of empathy when he shot the accountant. He’d thought her calm was the shock of watching someone die before her eyes, as he’d witnessed often in people confronted by the violent death of others.

He wouldn’t underestimate her this time.

-o-

Manfred Kiekendief sat in the back of his van on the deserted quay. He peeked past the curtain that separated his work area from the driver seat and looked up at the crane. Chang had been sitting up the crane’s tiny cabin since the pale winter sky had turned from red to dark-blue. Manfred shifted his position to look across the water at the other side of the harbour, where the only lights radiated from an office one floor up from the quay. Three hundred and fourteen meters he’d measured with the rangefinder. A PGM in a regular conversion would have no trouble bridging the distance, but the suppressed version Chang was using gave the 7.62mm round a one-in-eight twist instead of a one-in-twelve, and accuracy dropped quickly beyond the two hundred meter mark. A toss-up between silence and accuracy. Manfred had offered to replace the barrel with the Commando II barrel, but Chang told him not to worry. They’d zeroed the PGM in on three hundred and twenty meters, but that was under ideal situations. Not in the dark with a night scope. At least the elevation wouldn’t change and the cold wind had been factored in, both in temperature and force, and wasn’t liable to change for the next few hours.

The cabin was unheated and Chang had sent him down to the van, maybe because he couldn’t stand his chattering teeth anymore. The van was warmer, and he had a small generator for the heat, so he didn’t have to keep his engine running. Chang would call for him when needed. He changed the page on his e-reader, the soft glow around the edges illuminating the screen.

-o-

Chang sat up in the cabin, gazing through the spotting scope at the lighted office at the other side of the harbour. For a non-sniper, Loki had excellent instincts, suggesting a crane cabin. The crane offered a great view of the harbour, and the angle between the crane and the office at the other side of the harbour was excellent. Even if someone would stand with his back against the far wall, he’d still be able to shoot them in the kneecaps, bringing their upper bodies down for the final headshot.

Loki seemed to have a plan though. His client was going to be there, the only woman at the meeting. And he’d told Chang to fix a night scope to his PGM.

-o-

Zeph looked a bit weird, covered from head to toe in a black rain poncho, but it masked his shape and his distinctive dreads as he piloted the Zodiac to the Vlothaven. Katla didn’t want another Thooft on her hands, and Zeph was seasoned enough not to panic when all hell would break loose. She wore a long warm coat over a silk dancer’s catsuit and a short pleated skirt, with ankle-height leather steel toed boots. The wide silk blouse over the catsuit would billow out, masking her upper body. She expected to be frisked, so she only wore her rings and her garrotte bracelet.

The Kau Hong would probably be out in full force, so if Chang would mess up, she’d probably die tonight.

“Nervous, sista?” Zeph looked at her, his gloved right hand on the outboard’s handle, his left hand on the guide rope that circled the Zodiac. Between his feet was one of her waterproof holdalls. The Rastafarian seemed changed, as if he had aged years in just the last weeks. Perhaps that was what happened when you got pistol-whipped and shot with tranquilliser darts.

“I’m fine, Zeph.” She folded her arms. “The only thing that bothers me is having to rely on others.”

“I&I won’t let you down, sista.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. You’ve proven yourself a loyal friend.”

“The sniper?”

She nodded. “Having him for back-up is probably necessary, but that doesn’t make me feel better about being unarmed and in his killing jar.”

“You trust him?”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll shoot me on purpose, but his goals are not mine. I just want these people to either buy me out at my price or leave my firm alone.” Katla shrugged. “Chang has orders to take revenge for the killing of Bram’s blind friend.”

“Yun’s friends hire Chang?”

“Tsui Pak Yun was an advisor to a Chinese triad. Anyway, let’s hope the Kau Hong play by the rules. If you get the signal, and all hell breaks loose, use the night scope and watch the building. Try to be in position to pick me up.”

“I do more than try, sista. Depend on me.”

That was the trouble, Katla thought. My body is fucked up and my back-up consists of a junkie sniper with his own agenda and a Rastafarian whose main experience with violence was being on the receiving end of a pistol whipping. And we’re about to take on a gang of hardened criminals.

Zeph pointed over her shoulder and she turned around to watch as the dinghy entered the harbour.

Showtime.

-o-

Lau heard the puttering of an outboard and walked to the quay, where a Zodiac glided into view. Sieltjes was standing in the bow, wide stance, leaning on her hospital cane. The person piloting the Zodiac was covered in a black slicker, face hidden by the peak of the hood that covered his head, looking ominously like the ferryman of the dead. As the Zodiac came close to one of the ladders, the pilot executed a slow turn to allow the side of the dinghy to hug the quay. Sieltjes grabbed one of the steel rungs and stepped on the ladder, using her cane to push the bow of the dinghy away from the quay. The pilot turned the throttle again and aimed the Zodiac back at the mouth of the harbour, while Sieltjes ascended the ladder, dragging her right leg behind. When she reached the quay, Lau noticed her swollen eye, masked by the make-up. He hid his smile and held out his hands, one for the cane, one to help her up. Sieltjes climbed onto the quay, ignoring his help. She limped in the direction of the office. Lau trailed behind her, wondering again if they were right about her. Her disability seemed to indicate that she’d be barely able to walk without the cane’s assistance. They entered the warm lobby of the office, where two Blue Lanterns guarded the stairs and barred her way.

“I have a meeting here,” Sieltjes told the young men. “You’re blocking my way.”

Lau passed her and halted in front of her. “I’ll have to frisk you.”

“You?” Sieltjes looked him up and down. “You think your blood-stained paws are going to touch me?”

“My boss insists.”

Sieltjes smirked. “I can imagine you volunteered. The excitement is showing in your pants.”

Lau felt the heat in his face and the desire to throttle the bitch must’ve shown in his eyes, because her smirk widened.

She tossed him her hospital cane. “Here,” she said. “Make sure it’s not a lethal weapon.”

While Lau studied the cane, Sieltjes took a keyring and a smartphone from her pocket and shrugged. Her coat fell to the floor. Underneath she wore a silk blouse and a pleated shirt. He handed her back the cane and she used it to walk a circle so he could check her front and back. “See, no pockets. You can check the pockets of my coat, but you won’t find more than lint.”

Leaving the coat on the floor, she limped around him and gestured with her cane at the Blue Lanterns. “You two, get out of my way.”

Lau gave them the nod and they moved aside. Sieltjes started up the stairs, dragging her right leg. Fingering his Derringer, Lau followed her up the stairs. She wouldn’t die as easily as Vermeer. He’d shoot out her kneecaps first, then use his knife on her. She’d beg for him to kill her.

Arrogant bitch.

-o-

Chang watched the Zodiac drift near the mouth of the harbour, the hulking pilot still covered by the black raincoat. Looked like the Rastafarian, but he couldn’t be sure. He used the spotting scope to check the woman with the cane. He’d seen Loki’s client before, but he struggled to remember where it was. The hatch clanked behind him and Manfred clambered into the cabin.

“Sorry,” the gunsmith mumbled. “I didn’t think it would make so much noise.”

“I doubt if they heard it,” Chang said. “But sound carries across water.”

He aimed the spotting scope at the dinghy, noticed the pilot, probably been alerted by the noise, was using his own scope and looking almost directly at him. Looked like he was using a night scope, maybe a Javelin. Chang smiled. The big Rastafarian had good instincts. He moved the spotting scope back to the lobby of the office, where the woman had removed her coat and dropped it on the floor. Looked like the boys wanted to feel her up, but she was not about to comply. She had courage, he’d have to give her that. She disappeared up the stairs and came back into view at the top of the stairs.
 

The bright neon illuminated her face and again he was struck by the feeling he’d seen her before. Although she hadn’t looked like a battered housewife, like she did now.

-o-

Exaggerating her limp, Katla climbed the stairs to the office where the rest of the Kau Hong waited. Vermeer’s killer walked close behind, no doubt checking out her ass. That was fine, as long as he didn’t pay close attention to her keys and smartphone.