The International Assassin A Sexy Times Crime Thriller (14 page)

“That doesn’t mean you can use it. It’s purely for self-defence. You understand what that means?”

“Absolutely. If they give you a funny look shoot them.”

He handed me a spare pistol and locked the car. We sprinted over to the villas perimeter wall. 

“Why don’t we just go in through the front gate? I know the code.”

“We do this my way.”

“Well give me a leg up then,” I said. He looked at me. “I’m not going to bloody lift you over the wall action man, I’m not a weight lifter.”

Using Nick as a ladder I climbed up and sat on his shoulders to get a view over the wall.

“What do you see?” he whispered.

“A Big house. In a garden.”

“Very funny.”

“Bedroom light is on. All other lights are off, there’s a S Class Merc in the drive.”

I looked down at Nick whose head was buried face first in my crotch. I smiled. 

“This would make a great sexual position. Do you think it’s in the Karma Sutra?” I said. Nick didn’t reply. “Suit yourself.” I shrugged disappointed he wasn’t going to avail himself of the amenities and provide me some pleasure while he was down there.

I climbed up over the wall and grabbed Nick’s gun off him. He jumped up, hauled himself over then jumped down the other side and caught me as I lowered myself down. Checking our entrance had not been noticed Nick ran through the shadows to a large cable box. I ran after him, he took out a small tool kit and broke the box open.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Phone box. We’ll tap the line.”

“What if he uses his mobile?” I asked. Nick gave me a vacant look. “And you’re in the intelligence business…” I said shaking my head with despair.

“Do you have a better plan?” he asked me annoyed.

“Absolutely. We go in there and we tape him to a chair then apply a live electric cable to his scrotum until he talks.”

“Subtle,” replied Nick sarcastically.

“Hey! If it gets results don’t knock it. It’s better than tapping his Sky TV channels to see if he is watching porn.” I whispered back.

“Stay here,” he told me.

“No!” I protested.

“Stay here!” he repeated firmer. “I’m just going to put a tracer on the car. I need you to cover me. Do you think you can do that? I’ll be all exposed out there.”

“Aw baby you see? You do need me after all. I tell you what, I’ll stay here if you admit you were wrong and I’m an integral part of the success of your mission.”

“No,” replied Nick petulantly.

“Admit you need me then.”

“Jesus Christ!  Ok yes! I need you, now please cover me.”

“Okay baby. If you go into the house without me I’m going to shoot you myself. In the arse.”

Nick ran off crouching in the direction of the car then dropped beneath it and started tinkering about. As he got up and started running back the entire of the grounds lit up like a football stadium from the security floodlights. He quickly sprinted towards me and we took cover in some bushes.

“You didn’t tell me the bloody lights are on sensors!” he said annoyed.

“They aren’t. They don’t need to be. The cameras are all infra-red.”

The front door opened and the bastard Roy and his consort bitch Charlotte emerged dressed in a dinner suit and ball gown. They headed for the Mercedes.

“Right, let’s do the fuckers on the porch,” I told Nick cocking my gun. 

Nick put a hand on the top of the barrel and gestured me to lower it.

“No!” he told me with a stern whisper. “We wait until they leave then we can get into the house. Let’s try and figure out where your money is first.”

“You’re going to let them leave?”

Nick took out his tracking PDA and activated it.

“We know where they’ll be.”

“Hmmph. Alright then,” I agreed reluctantly.

I watched in frustration as Roy pulled off down the drive and departed. The gates closed and the security lights all switched off again. Without waiting for authorisation I went running across to the house. Nick ran after me. 

We reached the front door. Nick picked the lock quickly and opened it. I dashed inside and headed straight for the alarm box. I entered my pin code but it was rejected.

“He’s changed the alarm code,” I told Nick as I tried desperately to remember the master reset code. I tried the number but it was also rejected. I looked at Nick and shrugged my shoulders as the seconds ticked by.

“Haven’t you got some sort of spy gadget for this?”

“No,” said Nick. 

“You are a lot of use then aren’t you?”

I went outside and knocked the safety catch off my suppressed MP5. As the alarm bell started to sound I opened fire on the box and it fell silent. I went back inside.

“I think he’s going to notice,” Nick said.

“I don’t care. He shouldn’t be in my house anyway the cheeky fucker,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. “I’ll check upstairs, you check downstairs. I’m guessing he will have some papers or computer with details of where my money is.”

“You have an office or a study?”

“First door on the right,” I said pointing at the door.

Nick disappeared into the study and I headed upstairs to the master bedroom. The slut-whore Charlotte’s dirty knickers were all over the floor. I went over to the bed and opened my backpack and took out the block of C4 and remote detonator I had procured from Nick’s armaments stash.

I didn’t share my plan with Nick for obvious reasons since he was more concerned with intelligence gathering than revenge. Being more of a fan of direct action I would much prefer to deal with Roy and Charlotte now and worry about the consequences and aggravation of getting my money back later. In the event that Nick was plotting to do something other than allow me my wishes I had prepared a suitable fallback option to make sure Roy and Charlotte did not escape my wrath. I cut off the detonator cords and prodded them into the C4 and dropped down under the bed. Even with the damping effects of the mattress there was enough explosives to blow up the entire room and all its occupants. I found a discrete part on the bed frame. Due to the alarm fiasco Roy would have been aware of our break-in on his return so I needed to ensure my bedroom surprise was well hidden in case he swept the house. 

I secured the explosives to the top-side of the bed frame underneath the mattress so it could not easily be seen and armed the detonator which contained a micro cellphone board and could be remotely trigged by a call to its number. The board also contained a high-powered microphone so its user could listen in to ensure the targets were in audible range before detonating its payload. 

Useful since I was planning to blow them up when they were having sex.

Satisfied with my efforts I returned downstairs to find Nick on a laptop busy typing away. He plugged in a USB stick. I walked round to see what he was up to. On screen he had an open browser window with an Internet banking session for a bank in Luxembourg.

“What have you found my angel?” I asked him giving him a shoulder massage.

“Roy transferred your funds from your Swiss and Coutts accounts to this bank
here
. Then he’s redistributed the money to a numbered account here in Zurich…” Nick said as he pointed out the transaction details on the screen. “…and this account in Monte-Carlo.”

“Great. So work your magic and get it back.”

“It’s not that simple. There are account locks on. Without lifting them we’re limited on how much we can withdraw. As soon as we make a withdrawal he will get a notification to his cellphone.”

“Which means?”

“We either need to go in person for which we will need whatever password, security credentials and probably fingerprint ID or…”

“Or…?”

“We need to hold him long enough that we can draw down the account without him being able to stop it.”

“How long will that take?”

Nick grabbed a piece of paper and made some calculations.

“Eleven days.”

“Well that’s no problem. We wait for him to come back then tie him up and go to work on him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Nick replied. He pulled up some documents from a folder on the laptop screen.

“On behalf of his new friends he is hosting an arms deals with a Russian criminal outfit in three days. If we’re here or he isn’t here then, things are going to get messy.”

I became quite frustrated. Abandoning Nick’s shoulders rub I stormed over and grabbed a bottle of Vodka from the drinks cabinet.

“For Gods Sake Nicholas! How hard does this have to be!” I slugged back the Vodka. “He’s stolen my money. We now know where it is. We get whatever information we need to access it from him and then kill the fuck-urchin and his bitch. Who gives a fuck about the Russian mob and their arms deal?”

“Because he’s using the money to front the deal. If we take it three days before he does the deal then he’s going to tell them we took it and then they are going to come after us.”

“And if we don’t take it he’s going to spend my entire trust fund on a bunch of RPG’s and Kalashnikovs. Now I’m a fan of small arms collections but I don’t need enough to invade Zimbabwe. I’d rather spend it on shoes and handbags thank you very much.”

Nick didn’t reply.

“What you trying to tell me Nick? Because you are trying to tell me something, you are not exactly enthusiastic,” I said annoyed.

“I’m on your side.”

“It doesn’t bloody feel like it,” I told him in a harsh tone that I can only put down to the Vodka.

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said softly.

“I don’t need you to keep me alive Nick. I can handle that myself thank you very much. I need your help, and if you are not going to help me then why are you here? I’d rather do it by myself.”

I could tell by his face he was hurt but unfortunately the blind rage I had got myself into at our constant inability to find a solution was overwhelming and my emotions got the better of common sense and reason. He unplugged the USB stick from the computer and got up and walked over to me and looked at me coldly.

“Good luck,” he said without a trace of warmth then handed me the USB stick and left.

I wanted to cry.

After everything that had happened he was the only man in my life who I had really felt anything for - someone who had gone out of his way to help me without expectation of anything in return, but the nagging distrust I had that he was merely using me for his own espionage ends, of which I had no real understanding clouded my judgment and ability to fully believe that he was acting for my best intentions and not on MI6 state business. 

As much as I had once been excited by the clandestine world such men inhabited I longed for a normal guy who kissed me goodnight and cuddled me to sleep without any suspicion he was going to kill me in the middle of the night or disappear never to be seen again. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Nick!
Nick
!” I called after him but he was already gone.  Pride was stopping me from going after him but I realised I was already in love with him and as much as my pride wanted to get the better of me my heart wouldn’t let it. I slugged down more of the Grey Goose Vodka in a hope of stemming the intense hurt of heartbreak I was now feeling but it was no good. No amount of Vodka would make me feel less vulnerable or alone.

Chapter 12

FEELING DRUNK
and miserable I sat down at the computer and stared at the screen. The lines of figures representing my stolen fortune and my life as I knew it. It was not the life I now wanted…a life with Nick. I hated Roy with an intensity I didn’t think possible for the anarchy he had wreaked in my life but was also aware without it there would be no Nick Salinger. Although at this moment in time the dark hurt his now lack of presence had brought into my life made me feel more vulnerable than ever. 

I had always considered myself to be independent of needing to be with a man. The fantasy Roy had created was a mere entertainment in my life, an interesting square-jawed consort accessory to my perfect wardrobe and a useful support act in my social engagements. Nick however I loved. He was someone that had, in a very short space of time, transcended my material needs. 

I had found that which I could not live without. 

Nick was my soul-mate and with a few selfish words I had driven him away.I wiped the tears from my cheek. I had a simple choice, to trust him and trust in love and hope he would be a good custodian of my heart or to pursue my own selfish cause and risk never seeing him again. I decided there were some things my trust-fund couldn’t ever buy and the sense of belonging and companionship Nick brought would be just as satisfying if we were a pair of broke bums living on a beach. 

I wiped my tears away and went after him.

I went outside but he was nowhere to be seen. I quickly sprinted back to the Aston but he wasn’t there either. I collapsed next to it and burst into tears, Nick after all was, despite my light-hearted banter to the contrary, an exceptionally well-trained clandestine operative. I would return to the hotel and he wouldn’t be there. No number I could call, no forwarding address. Nick Salinger probably wasn’t even his real name. I would never hear or see from him again if he wished it and given how we had just parted I had no reason to suspect he would. 

I looked up across the lake. Pulling away from the pier in the darkness was a shadowy black figure piloting a small boat.

“Nick!” I yelled after him but he either didn’t hear over the noise of the engine or chose not to hear. 

Abandoning my gun next to the Aston I got up and ran to the lake calling him. I reached the end of the pier but he still didn’t turn back. Without thinking I jumped off the end of the pier into the lake intent on swimming after him, a ridiculous notion given the size of Lake Geneva but seemed a good idea after consuming a third of a bottle of strong premium Vodka.  

The alcohol took the initial edge off the freezing cold water. I had always been quite a good swimmer so made good progress into the lake after him. Having got more than one hundred and fifty metres from the shore I realised the hopelessness of the situation - there was simply no way I could keep pace with a motorboat.