Retribution by Michael Bates (read more books .TXT) 📕

count the number of times I’d paced up and down this frigging room. God, I hated not being in control of a situation, and used as someone else's puppet. As I waited for the dreaded phone call, I again tried to think about who was doing this act.

I still didn't understand how these people found out my identity and where I lived, it just didn't make any sense, I'd been more than careful with all my clients. As far as I knew I'd had no physical contact with any of them, I mean; I sure as hell didn't know who any of my clients were. The only thing that made any sense was that someone must have been watching me while I carried out one of my contracts. However, I never let any of my clients know when, where, or how I would carry out a contract.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that may be this was not one of my clients at all, and that it's just someone who knew what I did for a living. However, it's not as if I had an advertisement in the local paper, or registered my profession at the local job centre. It had to be someone who hangs around in the same circles, and was completely aware of how this business works. Shit! There had to be a way of finding out who this corporation was, someone had to at least have an idea who they might be. Suddenly the phone rang, I shot across the room and answered it.

"Hello, Jack Spader here."

"Hello Mr Spader, this is reception, will you be wanting your normal early call in the morning sir?”

I laid there in amazement, and laughed. "Are you kidding me? Not now,” and slammed the phone down.

Come on; what the hell are these people playing at, apart from trying to really wind me up. I jumped up off the bed grabbed my jacket and opened the door to my room; I was just about to walk out when I came to my senses. What in the hell am I doing, I thought. Shit, I slammed the door shut and hung my jacket on the back of the door, opened the fridge and took out another small bottle of Jack Daniels, poured it into a glass and knocked it straight back. I turned on the TV and began flicking through the stations, not even paying any attention as to what was on any of them.

I sat with both anger and anticipation for what seemed like hours, waiting for the dreaded phone call, my thoughts begun to sway towards my daughter. It had been five years since I last saw Claire. I don't even know if she will remember me, let alone recognise me. She was only five years old when I last saw her.

Suddenly the phone rang, I was so deep in thought it made me jump. My heart began beating so hard and fast, I felt sure they would be able to hear it on the other end of the phone. I leapt off the bed, grabbed the receiver. Even after all the missions I had carried out, I'd never felt as scared as I do now.

"Hello, who is this?" I asked.

"Is that Spader? Jack Spader?" said a deep voice.

"Yes, who are you?"

"You don't need to be concerned with that at this moment in time. Just listen."

"You Bastard! Where the fuck is my daughter?"

"Listen Mr. Spader, if you want to see your daughter again
I suggest you shut up and listen to what I have to say. We have a job we need you to carryout for us. If you do exactly as we ask, you will get your daughter back safely, and in one piece."

"I don't do that kind of work anymore."

"We know, that's why we felt you may need a little persuading. If you know what I mean?"

"If you harm one hair on her head I'll search for you all my life, and tear you apart."

"Look, you wouldn't even know where to start. So enough of this bullshit and listen to what I have to say."

"There is a package; a tan-coloured briefcase in the lost property department at Waterloo station. It has a label with your name on it. So, if you turn up with some form of ID you will be able to retrieve it. You will find all the information you require inside."

"How do I know for sure you are holding my daughter?"

"You will find evidence of that when you pick up the package."

"How can I get in touch with you?"

"Pick up the package, and everything will become a lot clearer. I look forward to hearing from you soon Mr.
Spader."

"Hang on, wait." The phone went dead.

The walls of the hotel room felt like they were closing in on me. Never in my whole life had I felt so helpless and alone. If there was ever a time I needed to have my shit together, it was now. I thought.

I left the hotel, hailed a taxi, and made my way to Waterloo station. The taxi driver was attempting to hold some kind of conversation with me, but my mind was elsewhere, and all I heard was a muffled voice mumbling in the background. The traffic as ever in London was nose to tail and going nowhere fast. The heat of the day was stifling; I could feel the sweat running down my back, saturating my shirt, all of which was compounding my feelings of anxiety.

"Don't you know a better route than this?" I asked.

"Sorry, but you couldn't have picked a worse time of the day to travel through the centre of the city."

"Fucking good job I'm not having a heart attack right now." I said

It took almost thirty minutes to reach the station. Once there I paid the driver and moved in to the station. It was teeming with people; I franticly searched for a sign that would lead me to the lost property department.

Looking across the station I could see a man in uniform stood next to a gate at the entrance to one of the platforms, he was clipping the tickets of the passengers as they passed through. Moving toward him, it seemed like everyone in the station was heading in every direction except mine, it was like trying to swim upstream. I finally managed to push my way through and quickly moved over to him, there were about eight people waiting in line.

"Excuse me; excuse me." I shouted over the top of the people in line.

"One moment please sir." He replied.

"No, you don't understand, I just want"-

"I know sir, everyone's in a rush, so if you wouldn't mind just joining the back of the queue."

Frustrated I turned around; scanning all over the station, looking for anything that might indicate the direction I needed to go. There are signs everywhere but I'm fucked if I can see anything that points to the lost property department. Where the hell is it.

Then suddenly I heard a voice from behind. "Excuse me sir. I'll take your ticket now."

I spun around. "What!"

"Your ticket, I'll take it now."

"Oh; no, I just wanted to know how to find the lost
property department."

"Oh, okay." He pointed. "Can you see the small cafe in the corner over there?"

My eyes followed his pointing finger. "Yes I see it."

"It's just to the right of that."

"Great, thanks."

I moved quickly, dodging the other commuters moving backward and forward in front of me, until I finally reached the desk. Stood behind the desk was an old portly man in a blue and red uniform.

"Hi there, I understand you may have a package belonging to me?"

"Can you describe it for me please sir?"

"Yes, it's a tan-coloured briefcase, and should have my name on it. Jack Spader."

"One moment please sir." He disappeared into the back of the office to search for the case. I took out a handkerchief and wiped away the sweat that was dripping profusely down my brow and neck. He returned two minutes later with the case in his hand.

He held it up in front of him. "Is this your case sir?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Do you have some form of identification on you sir?"

"Yes, I have my driving licence if that's okay?" I handed it to him.

After quickly inspecting it, he handed it back to me. "That will be fine sir. If you could just sign this release form you can be on your way."

I signed the form grabbed the case and headed straight for the public toilets. Inside, there were five people using the urinals, but all of the cubicles were empty. I entered the cubicle next to the wall and locked myself in. Sitting on the toilet, I rested the case on my lap staring at it for a moment, thinking. What in the hell am I going to find that proves they really do have my daughter? I took a deep breath and slowly began to open the case. On looking inside, I could see a mobile phone, a paper file, and a small locket. I picked up the locket and undid the clasp. Inside I could see a picture of my wife. There was also an engraving on the back, a message saying. Happy birthday, my darling Claire. Feelings began to stir up inside of me, the like of which I hadn't felt since the day I watched Clair being born. My eyes began to lose focus as tears started to well up. I quickly wiped them on the sleeve of my jacket, and placed the locket in my pocket. Leaving the phone and file in the case, I closed it and headed back to my hotel room.

I took a shower to cool off; after wrapping a towel around myself, I sat on the bed staring at the case in front of me. I pulled it toward me and slowly lifted the lid. I removed the paper file and opened it up; the first thing I saw was a photograph. I recognised the face from somewhere but could not remember where. I put the photo on the bed and began to read the file. It told me the name of the person in the photo, and what they wanted doing. They had given me a deadline of one month to carry out the task. This was unusual; I am not usually given a deadline.

I picked up the mobile phone and turned it on and went straight to the menu and address book. There was only one number, I highlighted the number and pressed send. The phone began to ring and almost immediately stopped and went dead. I was just about to try again when the phone beeped and a message came up telling me I had a text message. Reading the message it said. "All we need to know is do you accept the task. Answer with a text saying yes or no." I picked up the photograph and