The Killer II (11 page)

The young man who had recently started his shift on reception looked up at the sight of the man who wobbled through the door, hiccupping loudly as he made his way to the stairs of the east wing.
‘Ah the Guinness takes its toll on another tourist,’ he thought as he returned his attention to his newspaper.
Nothing to concern him there.
He only had to report anyone taking the other staircase.

At the top of the first flight, and out of sight of the receptionist, the wobbling ceased and Liam made his way purposefully along the first floor corridor to the service doors.
He felt in his pocket for the key that Turner had supplied and tried it in the lock.
The
door opened without protest.
He climbed four more flights of stairs before reaching the connecting corridor shown on the blueprints, made his way along it and then descended down the regular stairs of the west wing to arrive at the second landing.
He peeked round the corner and saw just one man standing guard about half way down the corridor, his back firmly pressed against the wall.
Just one.
That was good.
The drunk returned as he tottered in the man’s direction.

‘Hey you,
yer
on the wrong floor pal,’ the guard said quietly as he approached him, though he didn’t move.
Liam gave him an unfocused, confused glance and then continued to totter right up to him.
‘Hey I’ve told you,
arsewipe
, get lost,’ came the hissed order.

‘Fuck you,’ Liam offered in his
best drunken
slur as he stumbled backwards.

The guard lunged towards him and Liam reacted immediately, moving to his rear, grabbing the guard round the neck and silencing him with one swift slice from
The Killer
.
The man gurgled briefly and then slipped to the floor.
Liam arranged him in what he hoped looked like a drunken slump and then scanned the room numbers until he found 29.
He knocked gently.
When there was no reply he tried again, a little louder this time.

‘Yeah, who is it?’ a sleepy voice eventually asked quietly from the other side of the door.

‘We have a problem out here, sir,’ said Liam in a hushed tone to disguise his voice.
It was a useful piece of advice that Turner had given him.
All whispers sound much the same, so his quarry should believe that it was the guard at the door.
Then, deciding on an all or nothing gamble he added, ‘
Mr.
Moore needs to see you urgently.’

As the door opened a crack Liam knew he had guessed correctly about the other man’s presence and he hurled his weight at the door, flinging it open and throwing a very confused Mad Dog on his back.
In one movement he was in the room, the door was closed behind him and he was on top of the prone man delivering a knock out punch to the face.
He worked quickly, removing the rope from round his waist to tie his captive down and securing a gag at his mouth.
He returned to the door and pressed his ear against it, but there was no sound from the corridor.
Then he waited for the man to come round.
It was taking longer than he’d anticipated, and Liam glanced anxiously at the illuminated dial on the bedside table.
Shit, he really didn’t have much time if he wanted to get them both.
Turner’s schedule hadn’t allowed for that.

Larry slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus in the dark room.
Within seconds he realised that he was restrained in a sitting position, his arms tied behind his back and his legs tightly bound in front.
When he found he couldn’t speak either, the pressure of a blade at his neck was no great surprise,
but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.
‘I’m going to pull that gag down in a second,’ came a low, unidentifiable voice from just behind his head, ‘and I’ll want you to answer some questions.
But you will do it quietly, understand?’
He nodded quickly and felt the gag loosen as the pressure from the blade increased.

‘What room’s Peter Moore in?’

‘What the
fu
..
’

‘Shush, quietly remember.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Larry hissed.

‘Sure you do, Mad Dog.
Everyone knows Larry O’Brien and Peter Moore go way back.’

‘What?
No you’re wrong.
I’m Leonard, Leonard
O’Barry
.
I don’t know who…’

‘You are Larry - Mad Dog - O’Brien and that false name is fooling no one.
You even had to keep it as an
Obie
, didn’t you?
Besides, I know you man and you know me.’

‘I don’t.
Who the
fu
…’
The gag was tightened at his mouth again and the knife moved from his throat as he felt the man stand up behind him and then saw his shadow walk across the room.
When the light flicked on he blinked at the glare and then stared in amazement.

‘Know me now, Mad Dog?’
Liam was rewarded by a wide-eyed, incredulous look of recognition as his captive attempted to speak.
‘You
gonna
keep that voice down if I let you talk?’

The bound man nodded quickly and Liam pocketed his knife, taking out the .38 in its
place.
The Killer
would return quickly enough, but for now he wanted to look this man in the eyes and the gun made more sense for that.
He loosened the gag.

‘Butch?
Is that really you Butch?’ O’Brien stammered.
‘It can’t be.
You’re dead.’

‘You must be seeing ghosts then.’

‘No Butch, I was told you’d been shot.
We all thought you’d been shot.
Fuck, Willy Nolan even held a wake.’

‘You had a body?’
Liam was a little surprised at that.

‘No, the prison wouldn’t release it so we…
Oh fuck.’

Liam watched as the cogs turned in the man’s brain.
If he wasn’t dead and the prison had been complicit in the subterfuge it could mean only one thing.
‘That’s right, got it now haven’t you Mad Dog?’

‘Who sent you?’ the question was an angry whisper.

‘That really doesn’t matter.
I know everything.
I know you’re one of the bastards who signed the order to have my Mammy killed and I’m here for her.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about son,’ Larry tried in placatory manner.

‘Don’t call me son, you patronising bastard,’ Liam spat at him.
‘And don’t think you can deny it.
I talked to Jonny.
He told me everything.’

He saw a change in O’Brien’s expression then at the mention of the man who had actually carried out the hit.
‘Collateral
damage,’ came the reply, the tone now defiant and arrogant.
‘Nothing to be done.’

Liam felt the rage build inside him, but he didn’t have time for that.
He pocketed the gun and slowly pulled out
The Killer
a second time.
He crouched down to the man, who struggled against his bonds but had no chance of escape, and moved the knife slowly in front of his face, the word matador clearly visible, then took the blade to within an inch of his eye.
He was rewarded by a tremor of the man’s cheeks.
Anyone faced by the vicious blade experienced a fear far deeper than any gun could produce.
It was that deep, primal, visceral fear, instilled in man throughout the ages.
That basic fear of the wild, savage, untameable, sharp toothed beast.
That fear that couldn’t be denied and would eventually turn to terror.
The trouble was that Liam didn’t really have time for eventually just now and this was a particularly hard bastard he had in front of him.
You didn’t earn a moniker like Mad Dog for nothing and he narrowed his eyes as he considered how best to make this man talk
- and quickly.

‘I had to sign it,’ Larry suddenly blurted out.

Liam froze for a second in surprise, but then quickly pressed his advantage.
‘Go on.’

‘I never understood it, Butch, honest I didn’t,’ Larry went on, his voice cracking more with every word.
‘I never knew why you were so special.
Jesus, I had young lads banging on my door wanting to join up.
We
turned away more than we took.
But you, they really wanted you.’

‘Why me?
What was so
fuckin
’ special about me that you had to kill me Mam?’
Liam hissed through clenched teeth.
He wanted to scream his anger at this man, but he couldn’t afford the noise.

‘I told you, Butch, I don’t know.
I swear I don’t know.
It was Peter.
He issued the order.
I had to sign it.
I had no choice.’

Liam figured that much was probably true.
‘So, where is he?
Where is Peter Moore?’

‘He’s not here.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘
I can’t Butch
,
you know I can’t
.
It’s more than my life’s worth.’

‘And how much is that exactly?’ Liam spat into the face in front of him.
‘You know, I do believe that Moore issued the order.
That doesn’t surprise me in the least, but you had no choice you say?
Everyone’s got a choice, man.
Everyone.
But you didn’t give me Mam a choice, did you?
That order had her beaten before she died, you sadistic bastard.
You ordered her kneecapped and her ankles broken, didn’t you?
You signed that
fuckin
’ order.
You knew what would happen.’

O’Brien said nothing.
From the wild look in his eyes his fear had finally turned to terror and he was paralysed by it.
Liam secured the gag tightly again.
‘Like this, was it?’ he growled as he crouched and brought the heavy butt of his knife down on the
man’s ankle, the unmistakeable sound of breaking bones quickly accompanied by a low groan from the man’s throat.
‘Or like this?’ he suggested as he rose to his full height and slammed his boot on the man’s knee.
‘Now where the fuck is Moore?’

His captive flopped before him, unmoving and silent.
Shite, the pathetic turd had passed out.
‘Some
fuckin
’ hard man you are,’ Liam cursed as he dragged the man to an upright position and started slapping his face.
‘Wake up you bastard,’ he hissed.
‘You’re not getting off that lightly.’
Gradually the man’s eyes flickered as he came round to immediate agony.
His scream was stifled by the obstruction in his mouth and Liam waited until it died in his throat and then bent his head close and loosened the gag just a fraction.
‘Which room?’ he hissed.

‘Twenty-one,’ came the barely audible reply.

‘Thank you,’ said Liam as he pushed the man back and plunged the knife into the soft flesh of his belly, drawing the blade upwards in a long arc.
Mad Dog struggled for a few seconds as Liam looked deep into his eyes, and then he passed out again.
It was all a little too quick.
Liam had wanted him to suffer more, but he had the information he needed and time was short.
Quickly removing his blade from the man’s stomach he tilted back his head and slashed the throat to the bone.

‘See you in Hell, Mad Dog.’

He wiped down his blade and checked that he had avoided the blood splatter.
He was good at doing that, apart from the recent incident with McKee where he’d
mis
-timed matters, but he didn’t want to think about that.
Yes, he was clean enough.
He glanced back at the pathetic piece of flesh on the floor.
‘That’s one down for you Mam,’ he said and then slipped quietly back out into the corridor.

He saw immediately that the dead guard was positioned outside room twenty-one, which made sense.
‘Should have guessed,’ thought Liam and he approached the door just as the slump-posed body decided to slump for real and fell to the side, a gun falling from its pocket and landing with a heavy thud.
‘Shite!’
In an instant Liam was down the corridor and back round the corner to the stairs.
He heard a door open, a second of silence and then – well he didn’t hang around to find out.
He was pretty sure “all Hell broke loose” would probably cover it.

A sash window opened easily and he jumped through it without thinking.
Some handy bushes cushioned his two-storey fall and he was on his feet and heading back to the Granada as lights were coming on in the hotel.
He arrived at the car just as shouting began in the street and he reached for the keys in his pocket, pulling them out quickly – and then he dropped them.
‘Oh fuck!
Oh fuck!’
He ducked behind the car and searched frantically with his hand.
Nothing.
The shouts grew louder and he heard feet
running in his direction.
They ran right past and he heard a car engine start nearby.
Then more feet, then another engine, then squealing tyres – and then he found the keys.