The Fine Line of Revenge (3 page)

After checking in at his hotel, Jack spent the next few hours scouting the area, imagining every possible scenario and preparing the hit as meticulously as each time before. After a good night’s sleep, the next day was spent following Sperafico, recording his every move.  He had many bodyguards and swapped cars regularly.  He ate at the most expensive restaurants, eating alone on occasions, but still with his burly staff very close by.  Jack, now dressed in a very expensive suit, dark black hair and thick moustache to match, wandered into the restaurant.  He sat down at the bar and ordered a Castello.  He sipped on the cold lager, staring ahead, admiring the elegant bar. Sperafico was sitting in a booth at the top end of the restaurant, getting the very best attention and service from the hard-working staff.  Jack listened in on a digital, directional microphone.  At the end of his meal, Sperafico summoned the concierge, making dinner arrangements for Friday at nine o’clock, discreetly slipping some money into his hand. This would be the opportunity.  Sperafico was using the back entrance to his hotel and the buildings opposite made for the perfect location to execute the hit.  Jack left the restaurant and contacted his superiors, arranging the use of the building.  After watching Sperafico return to the hotel for the last time that night, Jack returned to his own hotel, to finalise his detailed strategy.

The night was fresh and the crescent moon gave little light. The orange streetlights however, gave ample lighting and illuminated the double doored, back entrance to the Savoy more than adequately.  It was eight o’clock and Jack sat waiting patiently as he had done many times in the past.  He wore his black combat trousers and a tight black jumper that hugged his neck comfortably.  He rocked his head side to side as he loosened his neck muscles, a cracking noise ending the motions. The barrel of his rifle rested in a purposely-made hole in the glass. He knew that open windows were easy to spot.  Jack was now crouched, poised with his rifle, comfortably holding all six and a half kilograms of it. It was eight thirty on his Rolex Explorer ii watch, as he noticed a car moving along the street below. He recognised the silver Mercedes as one of Sperafico’s, but it didn’t stop at the entrance Jack was hoping for.  Instead, it stopped at an entrance, fifty metres further on.  The extra range was no problem for his weapon but the difficult angle would impede lining up the night vision sight.  The door flung open and three men, one of them Sperafico, exited into the street.  To his better judgement, Jack unwisely took the shot.  He missed. The bullet only brushed the left shoulder of his intended target.  There was no time for another attempt.  Jack packed his equipment, threw the bags strap over his shoulder, tightened it and hastily made for his exit, while Sperafico and his entourage clumsily bundled into the Mercedes.  It immediately sped off down the street, the back door of the car swinging wildly, one of the bodyguards grabbing the handle attempting to close it.  The car turned a corner and vanished. Jack descended the concrete staircase with speed, his shoulders scuffing the walls, his feet two steps ahead of his body.  The exit door was pushed open with both hands as he vacated the building into the dark street beyond.  As Jack headed for his get away vehicle, two men could be seen unholstering their Berettas, quickening their pace in Jack’s direction.  Jack turned and ran as fast as his legs would take him.  He flew through the streets as if he had grown up in this part of the city.  But the men continued to follow.  He gained pace through a small alley and into the street beyond.  He stopped and crouched for a second, behind a low brick wall.  The top of the wall was full of small, dense shrubs.  This gave perfect cover.  Panting heavily, he peered between the leaves and saw the two men exit from the alley, looking up and down the street.  Jack pulled out his Walther SP22, tipped with silencer.  The two men separated and he knew that this was his chance.  He rose from his crouched position, stood tall and firm and shot the man on his left in the forehead.  He swung swiftly to his right and shot the second man through his right temple, before the first man had even slumped to the ground.  Jack immediately turned and proceeded onward. In a matter of minutes he had reached a quiet street where an old, red Lancia Delta HF was parked.  Jack grabbed the key from the front wheel arch and opened the car.  He got in and started the engine. Positive that he hadn’t been followed, he drove off into the night, unsure at what had just happened.

After ten minutes, he pulled up to a small storage unit.  He got out, leaving the engine running.  He slid open the metal door, got back into the car and drove in.  He jumped out, sliding the door shut behind him and bolted it locked.  Opening his gun case, Jack retrieved an earpiece and connected it to his phone and made the call.  This time it was in a totally different manner than usual.  He spoke to Shelton, becoming a little agitated, as he explained what had happened.

‘Come on home, Jack, we’ll book you on the next flight out of the country.’ There was a moment’s silence before Shelton spoke again.  ‘Drive to Pisa airport, there’s a flight leaving in two hours, use your usual name.’  With that Jack hung up, took off the earpiece and without hesitation changed out of his clothes.  He hid them under a specially adapted compartment under the back seat.  He unbolted the unit door, reversed the Lancia, secured the door and headed for Pisa.

It was just over an hours drive to Pisa. Jack drove into the terminal car park. He parked the Lancia leaving the keys in the ignition ready for his contact to collect it and headed inside the terminal building.  Jack furtively looked around for anything that may concern him. There was nothing.

As Jack walked through the empty silence of his offices, the minute hand on the wall clock struck half past, making it two thirty.  At the end of the wide corridor, light from Shelton’s office illuminated the floor and walls opposite, as it leaked through the half opened blinds.  Shelton saw Jack walk past the window, unable to hear his footsteps, not even in the silence.  As Jack entered the room, Shelton rose from his chair to greet him.

‘Someone knew I would be there, that’s the only explanation to why they used that exit. It’s not even directly linked to the hotel. I checked the plans myself.’

‘Sit down, Jack,’ Shelton said, waiting for his employee to sit before sitting back down himself. ‘Do you not think that Sperafico was just being careful?’  Jack didn’t answer.  ‘You’re not our only operative Jack; there are others, past, present and definitely future. You’re not the first to miss a target and you certainly won’t be the last.’  ‘Now, I need a report from you as soon as possible. Is that a problem?’

‘No problem, sir.’

‘You’ll be getting another chance at this Jack, as long as you don’t make it personal.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Jack replied.  He rose from his chair and headed off into the offices.  He sat down at his empty desk, turned on his computer and proceeded to write his report.

Jack spent the remaining hours of the morning asleep on a small, white, leather sofa in the waiting area of the offices.  He woke to the sound of the lift opening and the rattling of cleaning equipment from the trolleys of the four cleaners, as they exited.  They proceeded in the opposite direction to where he lay, still and silent.  He spun himself to his feet and managed to catch the lift doors as they started to close.  He glanced at his Rolex as the lift descended.  It was six thirty.  Catching his reflection in the lift mirrors, he straightened his tie, adjusted his hair between his fingers with both hands, faced the stainless steel, double doors and waited for them to open.

CHAPTER 3

After sitting in his Range Rover for what seemed like hours, Jack had left the offices and was now pulling into the drive of his Epsom home, parking behind Sarah’s silver Mercedes SLK.  He walked across their red, brick drive, his bronze, front door key primed in his right hand.  From the kitchen, Sarah heard the front door close and ran to meet her husband, greeting him with a smile and continuing with a crushing embrace.  Sarah pulled away and looked into Jack’s pale, blue eyes. They were red and tired but miraculously, there was no sign of the events from the previous evening, and that’s the way it would stay.

‘I’ll run you a bath,’ Sarah said, making her way up the sweeping beech staircase.  Jack took off his navy blue jacket and placed it on a hook behind the door of the under stairs cupboard. He took off his black, leather shoes and slid them in with his left foot.  The door shut with a
click
and he made his way slowly upstairs, loosening his tie as he went.  As he entered the bathroom, the rapidly filling bath produced a small amount of steam, enough to begin the misting of the large mirror that was over the sink.  Sarah walked in with a large, blue, cotton towel and draped it over the chrome, heated towel rail and straightened it as if it were for royalty.  Jack placed his left hand on Sarah’s shoulder, slowly turning her to face him and started to undo the buttons of her thin, white blouse.  Sarah dropped back her arms to allow the blouse to slide over her soft, pink shoulders and it fell to the stone tiles below.  Jack tenderly kissed Sarah’s neck, causing her to close her eyes and raise her head towards the bright spotlights embedded in the ceiling above her.   They both removed each other’s clothes, the vigorous running water shutting itself off as the level reached the small, black sensor on the edge of the large, corner bath.  They both lay naked on the soft, blue rug in the middle of the bathroom and made love.

Monday morning came around sooner than they had hoped. The weekend had been full of good weather, pleasurable walks in the country and of course, the theatre, this time they had indulged in the music of
Les Miserables
at the Queen’s.  They dressed together as usual and Jack headed down to the kitchen, leaving Sarah to do her make up and hair. Jack had set a simple table of muesli and orange juice and hot, black coffee, slightly less exciting than the previous day’s scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.  As Jack contently munched through his bowl of seeds and nuts, Sarah joined him at the table.  She poured herself a coffee and took a sip.

‘How about you join me for lunch today?’ It was an optimistic question, as previous attempts always returned a ‘no.’ Jack finished his mouthful and smiled across the table.

‘I don’t think I’ll have time, sweet heart.  Best to say, no.’ Jack never knew where he would be at any given time and would never want to cancel on Sarah.  Jack finished his cereal, rose from the table and placed the bowl and spoon in the sink.  He made Sarah stand and kissed her on the lips.

‘I’ll see you tonight.  Don’t work too hard.’

‘See you soon. Love you.’

‘Love you too,’ Jack replied, without hesitation and with that he left.

Sarah’s office wasn’t that far from Elephant and Castle and as she drove into her usual parking space, the scattered white clouds disappeared to reveal, what could only be, a good day.  Her job involved a great amount of travel and her educated eye for detail, made her one of the most sought after travel photographers in England.  Sarah sat at her desk and switched on her computer, her assistant, Bridgett, bringing her a cup of black coffee.  Bridgett was now well into her fifties but far from feeling the years.  Sarah had always told Jack that she had the motivation of someone half her age.

     ‘Thank you, Bridgett, any messages?’

‘Saracen Holidays called late on Friday, but they said they’ll be phoning back today, something about their new beach huts in one of the Fijian islands, they weren’t very specific, they wanted to speak to you. I don’t think they wanted to reveal too much to me.’

‘We’ll just have to set them straight then, thank you, Bridgett.’ Sarah smiled and returned to the computer and opened up her Photoshop editing software.  There was a small beep from the phone on Sarah’s desk and Brigitte’s voice emitted from its speaker.

‘Saracen Holidays on line one for you, would you like to take it?’

‘Yes please, put them through.’

Jack, in the meantime, sat opposite Shelton, Morgan and Grimlock, never before discussing what had gone wrong.

‘You say in your report that you assume Sperafico was tipped off,’ began Morgan, her thick, red-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose as she stared into Jack’s detailed report. Being an ex-field agent, she didn’t question his recollection of the events and proceeded to find out how much Jack really knew.  ‘Do you have an idea who it could be?’

‘No, but it was someone who knew I couldn’t make the shot from that angle.’

‘Although you tried,’ Shelton interjected, looking at his copy of the report.

‘Unprofessional on my part, I admit,’ replied Jack, now looking frustrated.

‘Surely, if Sperafico was tipped off, he would have used the front exit ensuring his certain safety,’ Morgan continued.

‘From the position I was in, it was impossible to get a clean shot.’  Jack’s mistake was now eating at him, and he knew that he was right about the leak.  ‘I phoned in the location to intelligence to ensure that it would be safe, anyone could have passed on that information to Sperafico.’

‘We checked the phone records, Jack,’ Shelton announced. ‘There were no calls to his room, or his mobile, between the time you cleared the location with intelligence and the time he exited the building.’

‘Not one, doesn’t that seem strange to you?’   Jack began to lose his calm disposition, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips and shaking his head.   Grimlock looked up from his paperwork, stroking his thin moustache.

‘We know from the past, Sperafico is very unpredictable, it could have been coincidence that he used that exit and the evidence you have given us is all very circumstantial, Jack, we can’t investigate a leak if we don’t know that we actually have one.’

‘He’s right, Jack,’ agreed Shelton reluctantly, ‘we’ll monitor his dealings as usual, and an attempt on his life may be a good enough reason for him to go back to his smaller operations.’