Retribution - Michael Bates (the mitten read aloud .TXT) 📗

Okay?"

"Okay buddy, take care."

"You too, bye." I put the phone down and began to pour a whisky. Fuck! This is going from bad to worse. If I ever needed a break, it was now. I thought.

Just then, the phone rang again. "Hello, Jack Spader here."

"Hello, Mr Spader. This is Inspector Evans; I'm phoning to see if you have been contacted by anyone, anyone at all?"

Shit this is all I need. "No why? What have you found out?"

"Well not a lot really I'm afraid. We are now treating this as a possible kidnapping, to that end I am sending a Constable over to ask you a few questions, to try and determine who might have a reason for doing this."

"I don't see how I’m going to be able to help you Inspector."

"You will be surprised what a little information can do to help an investigation."

"Okay, when can I expect a visit?"

"I can have someone round within the hour if that's convenient?"

"Within the hour, well- Okay, I can hang on till then Inspector."

"That's great, and Mr Spader, remember if anyone contacts you I need you to inform me straight away, Okay?"

"Fine, I will; bye for now Inspector." I put down the phone and began hiding all the material I had spread all over my bed, before the Constable arrived. As far as I am concerned, the police are just a fly in the ointment, but I need to keep up the pretence, otherwise, they will just end up getting in my way, and I don't need any more agro at this moment in time, I have enough on my plate already.

The Constable arrived; he was a young man in his twenties and carried his helmet under his arm. He didn't look like he'd been on the force for very long. I gestured him into the room and offered him the seat near the window. He placed his helmet on the table under the window, then sat down and took a notebook and pencil out of his breast pocket.

"Hello Mr Spader, I am Constable David Williams."

"Hi, would you like a drink, or anything?"

"No thanks I'm fine. I just need to ask a few questions and then I'll be on my way. I can imagine you are quite upset over this matter, and I assure you we are doing all we can to sort this sordid mess out."

"Like I said to your Inspector on the Phone, I don't really know what I can tell you, I mean, I haven't seen or even spoken to my daughter in five years."

"So I have been led to believe, however, I still need to clear up a few things. Is this hotel your permanent residence, or do you have a more permanent address?"

"Well it was, but I bought a place in Cornwall for me and my daughter."

"Okay and you know of no one who would have any reason to carry out this act?"

"You mean kidnapping? Assuming that's what has happened, no I don't."

"There is still the possibility that this could have something to do with your ex wife, and the persons involved are not aware of her recent demise. I take it you haven't had any recent contact with her either?"

"That's right." He asked me a few more what I regarded as irrelevant questions.

"Okay I think that will be all for now sir. We will obviously be in touch as soon as we hear anything, he stood up, placed his notebook back in his pocket, and picked up his helmet, and I'm sure I don't need to remind you to inform us the second anyone makes contact with you."

We both headed for the door. "Of course not, and thanks for your time and concern."

"No problem, it's my job, thank you for your time and I promise we will get these people."

We shook hands. "I hope so." I said. Then he left.

Hopefully now they will leave me alone for a while, and allow me to get on with what I need to do. I wanted to get a look at the conference room at the Savoy; this would give me a number of other options. I could plant a remote device, and overlooking the target with CCTV, detonate it from a distance. On the other hand, I could mingle in the crowd or find a place within the room from where I could carry out a silent kill.

The only problem with being in the same room is the getaway, which would mean the use of a disguise, due to the high probability of being seen. After searching the internet for any info on the Savoy hotel, I soon discover there are six conference rooms. Therefore, I need to find out which one they are going to use, and carry out a CTR (Close target recce).

I began formulating one of the many fake IDs I have set up on my laptop; figuring I could disguised myself as a member of the press, sent in to have a look at the conference room in order to establish what equipment we need for the setup on the day.

Having convinced the girl on the desk of who I was, a pageboy led me to the conference room. I had to use my imagination to think how the room will be set up; it was obvious the dais would be placed on the small stage at the front, with the press seated in front of that. The seating arrangement would already be set, so the chance of me getting a front row seat was not an option. I scanned the room for somewhere I could stand and be inconspicuous, I searched around the back of the stage and found to one side behind a large drape was a door, it was locked but I soon managed to pick it. Behind the door was a small storeroom full of all sorts of equipment used for setting up a conference.

After fighting my way through the equipment, I found what I was looking for, a window, just big enough for a man to climb through. However, it’s protected with iron bars, which I’ll need to deal with closer to the time. I opened the window slightly, tied a piece of blue string to one of the bars, and let it hang outside the window. This would allow me to recognise the window later on when I come to fix the bars. I locked the storeroom door, took out my digital camera, and began taking photographs of the whole conference room, for future reference.

Pleased with how the CTR went I left the hotel and decided to go to a restaurant for a meal and a bottle of nice red wine. After drinking two bottles of wine, I began to feel quite drunk, and so went in search of a nightclub. I found myself seduced by the bright lights and erotic atmosphere of Soho, and so entered the nearest titty bar in search of more alcohol and hopefully a sexy chic. All seemed to be going great until I payed for a lap dance, and found I couldn't keep my hands off the girl. The next thing I know, I'm being dragged out by what looks like two gorillas wearing black suits and bow ties. All of a sudden, I feel the pain of my hands scraping the concrete floor as I hit the street landing face down in the gutter and then hearing the words "and don't come back."

Some chick who asks me where I live helps me up. Then I must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing I know she is asking me if I have any money to pay the taxi. She helps me to my room; I collapse onto the bed and then feel her undressing me, I close my eyes in anticipation of the night's events.

When I open my eyes the bright sunlight coming through the window blinds me. I try to sit up, but my head feels like a grenade has just gone off inside it. My head drops back onto the pillow, as I search for the memory of the night before. I vaguely remember a girl, but I have no recollection of what she looked like, or what she was wearing. I lifted my head again to see I am wearing only my boxer shorts and a pair of black socks. I think that is conclusive proof to the fact I sure as hell didn't get a fuck last night. I swung my body round and placed my feet onto the carpet, then looking over to the table under the window I can see my wallet, which is open.

Oh, shit! I staggered over picked it up, and looked inside to find all my money had gone, however, she had at least left the credit cards. What a prick. I thought, how in the hell did I let myself get into this situation again. I swore to myself that I’d given up that kind of life, after the split from my wife. Shit, not the most professional way to finish off a CTR. It must be all this stress getting to me.
I looked over at the table, at least I still had my digital camera, thank fuck. I need to keep my head screwed on if I don't want to fuck this thing up, I've never felt pressure like I do now. All these new emotions I'm feeling right now are really messing with my normal thought process; I just don't seem to be able to think straight or in any logical manner. I need to try to stay emotionally detached, it's the only way I'm going to keep a grip on myself and stay focused.

A cold shower soon woke me up; before I downloaded the photos I had taken during the CTR onto my laptop. Well I have the layout of the room; I have the target, and I have the time and date of the conference. The only thing I don't have, is the method I'm going to use to kill this person. I went down to the hotel restaurant for some breakfast; would be able to think a lot clearer if I have some food and coffee inside of me. I thought.

In the restaurant, I began to mull over all my previous contracts, to maybe come up with an idea I had used before that would fit into this scenario. I found that a number of previous ideas could easily be used on this job, however, although the methods were sound, they didn't allow for the kind of escape I will need to execute on this job. Jesus, there is nothing worse than trying to out-spook a spook. I thought.


CHAPTER FOUR

Back in my room, the first idea that comes to me, is to use my trusty Glock 9mm with a silencer and fire from behind the curtains on the stage. The problem with this idea is; a shot is instantaneous, the window in the storeroom is quite small, and would take some time to climb through. Therefore, it wouldn't take long for someone to realise where the shot had come from and be hot on my heals.

My next idea calls for the use of