The Fine Line of Revenge (6 page)

As he headed into the city centre, Jack took the decision to book himself into a hotel that he hadn’t been associated with in the past.  He secured the car in his usual storage unit; he felt it was safe there, as he was the only one who knew about it.  With his bags draped over his shoulder and now blonde haired with matching moustache, Jack secured the metal door with a padlock and continued on foot.  After about thirty minutes he had found a hotel with acceptable back exits and security.  He paid upfront for his room, using the excuse of having his wallet stolen in order not to hand over his cards.  Jack made his way up the small staircase and to the first floor, room twelve.  Jack unlocked the door and walked in.  He took the ‘do not disturb’ sign from the inside handle and hung it on the outside of the door and closed it securely.  The room was small but cosy, a double bed, desk with wooden chair and a single armchair in the corner.  He dropped his bags on the floor at the end of the bed and slid them out of sight with his foot.  He placed one of his Walthers under the cushion of the armchair and took the other with him into the bathroom.

After a long, hot shower, Jack sat in front of his tablet, using his experienced knowledge to penetrate the Savoy’s computer system, extracting Sperafico’s room information.  It took over two hours to set up what he needed, glitches on the security cameras, exit plans and a full layout of the hotel and surrounding buildings.  He switched off his tablet, unplugged it from the wall and put it back in its black case.

Once again Jack set upon the streets of Florence.  His long, brown trench coat concealed his two Walther SP22’s and a Glock 27, harnessed securely at the base of his spine. It was a short five-minute walk to the Savoy.   The Piazza Della Repubblica was busy.  Six people riding Segways cruised by, stopping in the centre of the square, admiring the views of the surrounding historic buildings.  Jack aimlessly walked past the Savoy and entered an adjacent café; managing to find a table outside with a good enough view of the hotel’s entrance.  He ordered a black coffee in his fluent Italian and even though it was crowded with late lunchtime trade, his request arrived almost instantaneously.  Watching the entrance for any sign of Sperafico, he sipped on his coffee, his new moustache moist with its steam.  Numerous groups of American students littered the café tables, laughing loudly and swigging on bottles of Peroni lager.  His pocket began to vibrate gently. Jack inconspicuously pulled out his earpiece and answered it.

‘Jack, it’s Alex. Where are you?’

‘I’m opposite Sperafico’s hotel, just watching,’ replied Jack, again sipping on his coffee attempting to blend in, his conversation drowned out by the numerous others around him.

‘Don’t bother. Sperafico has headed back to Brazil. I think you got him worried with your handy work on the outskirts of the city. Don’t worry, I managed to get it cleared up.’   Jack was about to reply, when he saw two familiar faces approaching the entrance to the Savoy.

‘Are you sure Sperafico has gone? I’ve just seen two of his bodyguards enter the hotel, the two that ran down Sarah.’

‘Be careful Jack, they were probably left behind to finish you off. They’re probably waiting for you to come to them.’

‘Well, I better not disappoint them, then.’

‘Let me come out and help you. I can be there in less than four hours.’

‘I can’t wait that long, Sperafico’s jet will probably come back for them.’

‘Then you have time. Wait for me Jack,’ Alex now genuinely concerned about his friend’s safety.

‘I have to go Alex, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’ Jack took off his earpiece and placed it back in his pocket, left ten euros under his coffee cup and headed back to his hotel. He hoped that the men would still be there when he returned.

Sperafico’s bodyguards exited the lift on the second floor and proceeded to their suite.  They swiped the card in the lock, entered the room and came face to face with a woman.  The woman was stood with her legs shoulder width apart and was armed with two tranquilliser pistols, outstretched in front of her.  She fired them both simultaneously, hitting each of the men in the neck. They both pulled out the dart, tossing it aside and lunged forward reaching for their guns. It was too late; they both slumped to the ground with a thud, completely unconscious.  The woman laboured, dragging their limp bodies inside the room and quietly closed the door.  She picked up their guns and released the cartridges, expelling the bullet from the chamber and throwing them in a nearby waste bin, securing the guns in the waistline of her black trousers.  The woman was in her late twenties, thin, with long dark hair and a beautiful tanned complexion.   She grabbed the first man by his collar and with both hands and determination, dragged him into the bathroom. She came back for the second and shut the door behind her.

Jack checked his watch. It was time to leave.  He made his way around to the delivery entrance. He waited for a brief moment, checking his watch, ensuring his entry to the hotel coincided with the timed security camera interference. He entered the back of the hotel and silently made his way through into the laundry area.  He slid off his trench coat and replaced it with a waiter’s jacket, securing the buttons and adjusting the collar. Able to blend in, he made his way into the main lobby. It was fairly busy, with guests from all walks of life and backgrounds.  Jack made his way to the lift and got in the conveniently, open door.  A young British couple got in beside him, paying him little attention, too busy exploring each other’s bodies with their hands.  They got out on the first floor, leaving Jack to ride up to the second floor, alone.  The lift doors opened quietly. Jack peered round the corner before stepping into the corridor, ensuring the corridor was empty before quickly making his way to the Suite Repubblica.  He stood outside the large, white, double doors and listened; there was nothing but silence.  Checking for other guests and staff, Jack took out a swipe card from his back pocket with his left hand and scanned it in the card reader.  The door lock clicked open, his right hand releasing a Walther from its housing. He immediately slipped through the gap in the doorway and was instantly inside.  He stood poised for a second.  The room was decorated with fine art and antique furniture, a balcony stood across from the doorway on the other side of the room.  Jack heard movement from the bathroom.  He stealthily made his way to the bathroom door and peered inside the small opening.  To his bewilderment, in the large centred bath were the two men he was intending to kill, tied up face to face, gagged and without a thread of clothing on.  One man was unconscious and the other had his eyes half open, his slumped head rocking to and fro, like the snapped stem of a tulip in the breeze.  Jack heard another noise from the room behind him and darted like lightning into the bathroom and waited behind the door.  The woman pushed the bathroom door open and walked imperturbably up to the man who was semi-conscious and launched a precise and forceful punch cleanly across his chin.  The man’s head just continued to nod, as the woman rubbed her fist and wiggled her fingers in order to relieve her own pain.  Jack cocked his gun, closing the bathroom door, revealing his presence.  The woman turned with surprise, half attempting to draw the firearm in the waist of her trousers.  But it was too late. Jack was already there. He swiftly took it out for her, while pressing the barrel of his own against the side of her skull.

‘I have to say, I’m intrigued,’ Jack began. The woman started to shake slightly.

‘Because I’m wondering why you’ve gone to so much trouble to place them in such an intimate setting?’

‘I need them for information,’ she replied, a sense of desperation in her voice and an accent that may have been Portuguese.

‘Can you be more specific?’ Jack said, nuzzling his gun a little deeper into her temple, causing the woman to wince.

‘I wanted to find out where your boss is.’

‘And who would that be?’

‘Sperafico,’ she answered, a slight sense of confusion in her voice. Jack felt confident that she didn’t work for Sperafico either. He withdrew his gun from her head and sat on the nearby marble toilet seat.

‘If you are not going to kill me, what are you doing here?’ the woman asked, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

‘I don’t work for Sperafico. But I was looking for him. Unfortunately, I’ve recently been informed he’s heading back to Brazil.’  The woman looked shocked and angry. ‘I was about to leave, when I saw these two lads heading into the hotel and thought that, as I owe them a bullet or two, I should pay them a visit. But this changes things. Exactly what information are we hoping for?’  The woman said nothing.  Jack gave his gun a little shake to encourage her.

‘He apparently has a new home in Brazil, used to be an old fort. No one knows the location. I thought these men would tell me where it is.’  Jack continued with the probing questions.

‘How do you know this and why are you looking for him?’ The woman rested her back against the white tiled wall and slumped limply to the ground.  She looked exhausted.

‘I have been planning this for a long time, I thought I had him.  I have been following him for months. The hotel seemed a better place to kill him than his own house, less bodyguards.’  Jack felt a little responsible for Sperafico’s disappearance and a great deal of compassion for this woman’s determination.  The half conscious man was now coming around and caught a glimpse of Jack as he blinked, shaking  the last of the drug out of his system.  He panicked, attempting to wriggle free from the thin, blue ropes that imprisoned him.  The woman got up from the floor.  Jack slowly rose from his seat and approached the writhing man.  The man had fear in his eyes, as Jack embedded the barrel of his gun under his chin. The tape over his mouth ballooned with every short powerful breath.

‘They won’t talk, you know,’ Jack said, ramming the gun in harder, the man’s sweat covered face now pointing to the ceiling.

‘Can I at least try?’ the woman asked calmly.  Jack removed his gun from the man’s now red chin.

‘Be my guest,’ and with that, Jack retreated to his seat.  The woman took out a small bottle from her trouser pocket and unscrewed its black lid.  She waved it under the man’s nose.  He instantly opened his eyes with horror, as he realised the extremity of the situation.  The woman removed the thick black tape from their mouths, in a painful and purposely quick movement.  The second man spat in the woman’s direction, missing her completely.

‘You bitch, untie us.’ Then he noticed Jack, sitting on the toilet seat, his Walther comfortably resting on his lap. The man’s attitude abruptly changed.

‘The lady would like to ask you some questions. I think you should answer them.’ Jack said.

‘Why should we tell you anything, bitch, he’ll just kill us anyway,’ replied the first man, again attempting to wriggle out of his ropes.

‘He has promised to spare your lives if you give me the information I need.’  The woman looked to Jack, hoping for his co-operation.

‘I’ll leave you for the maid to find, I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of finding two naked, handsome men, such as yourselves, all snug in the bath tub.’

‘Where is Sperafico’s fort?’ the woman asked, standing behind the second man.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ he replied in a sarcastic manner. The woman grabbed his short, brown hair and pulled his head sharply backwards, the ceiling lights blinding his, still focusing, eyes.

‘Where is his fort?’ she repeated. She gripped his hair tighter, but the man remained silent.

‘Maybe if you cut his throat a little he might remember,’ Jack suggested, pulling a small knife from a sheath strapped at the bottom of his leg, throwing it gently at the woman. She caught its handle with precision, its sharp blade reflecting the bright ceiling lights. The woman regained her grip on the second man’s hair, tipping his head backwards once more.  With the knife poised at his throat, she slowly started to cut.

‘Ok, ok,’ the man pleaded. ‘He lands at a small air strip in Parnaiba on the north coast. His fort is about thirty miles east of the strip.’ The woman released her grip and took the knife away from his throat.

‘Just a guess but are we talking Brazil here?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes.’ Replied the woman, handing him back his knife.

‘Why did you talk? They would not kill us here,’ said the first man, angrily.  Little did they know that as the man spoke, Jack had been quietly screwing a silencer onto the end of his Walther.

‘I’ll meet you outside,’ he told the woman.  She knew what he was about to do and quickly left the room.  Jack stood up and approached the men, replacing the tape on their mouths.  He stood back and raised his gun-laden arm.

‘Thanks for the information,’ he said and shot the first man in the top of the head.  His head flopped forward, cracking skulls with the other man, unable to move his dead colleague’s lifeless head from his face. Blood began to trickle down the body and into the bathtub below.  The second man cursed in Portuguese, Jack ignored him. He stepped a foot closer.

‘That was for my wife,’ and immediately the gun coughed three more times, into the heart of the second man. ‘That was entirely for me.’  Jack turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.  He approached the woman.  She was unsure of her next move, but felt she could trust Jack.  She may never have got the information she needed, without his help.

‘Jack,’ he said, holding out his black gloved hand, introducing himself.

‘Anjo,’ the woman replied, outstretching her hand to greet his, her hand moist with sweat and visibly shaking.  Jack unscrewed his warm silencer and placed it, along with his gun, securely back inside its holster.  ‘We better get out of here,’ Jack suggested.

‘That is a very good idea.’  They wandered into the lounge area, the beams of lowering sun, penetrating the balcony doors, warming the room.  Two black trench coats were draped over a red and green striped, renaissance chair in the corner.  Jack picked them both up and threw one at Anjo and told her to put it on.  They opened the door to the suite and peered into the corridor, the cameras were now on and Jack had no back up to help him. With no sign of staff or guests they swiftly exited the Suite Repubblica. Jack was about to head to the stairs when Anjo, pulled him in the other direction.