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

some sophisticated equipment, and chemicals. I knew there would be a number of press microphones attached to the top of the dais, so one more wouldn't make a difference. I could fill it with a highly toxic gas then release it remotely from a distance, or on a timer.

My last idea and by far my favourite, is to use a dart gun that can fire all manners of different darts, and best of all, its ultra silent. There would be no blood, so it would take some time before someone managed to figure out what had happened, by which time I will be long gone. I decided to go along with the dart gun, containing a paralyzing drug that finally stops all muscles working, including internal organs. I already had a good stock of this in my armoury, so wouldn't need to scour the Internet, or black market for some.

I was feeling really pleased with myself, and thought I had it all worked out and had begun pouring myself a whisky, when I had a flash back, although it wasn't a flash back, because it hadn't happened yet. I had a vision of the mark collapsing onto the stage as my dart did its business. Except as she drops, I see a set of papers still sitting on the dais, obviously her speech. It occurs to me that somewhere within that speech will be the name of the corporation, and the press, who everyone knows to have no morals, will be onto it like flies onto shit, wanting to be the first to break the news. Thus, turning all my efforts into a complete waste of time. Shit! Why can nothing be simple? I thought.

How in the hell am I going to get around this one? This little dilemma is going to be harder to overcome than the assassination itself. I need to figure out a way to destroy the speech, and to have it happen simultaneously with the firing of the dart gun. I am going to need a small incendiary device that I can detonate remotely. It will have to be already set up on the top of the dais, and be inconspicuous.

After studying the photos I had taken on the CTR, I decided to build a false top for the dais. I designed a square piece of wood that mimicked the original top, with a paper-thin layer of wood laminate in the middle containing a flammable material. It would also have a small battery, and a receiver that would allow me to activate it remotely. The battery will produce just enough power to create a spark, which is all it will take to ignite the flammable material, and hopefully, send the speech up in flames.

This will also cause a good distraction and allow me more time for my escape. With the Mark collapsed on the floor and people rushing to help her, and others busy trying to put out the flames on the dais, they will be too busy to even think of looking in the storeroom, at least not straight away.

Having finally come up with what I consider the perfect plan, I can now concentrate on trying to find out who this corporation is, and where they are keeping Clair. If I can manage to do this, then maybe I can come up with a way to rescue her and at the same time save Rebecca Sykes from an untimely death. But, where in the hell do I start? I thought.

If a mate like Spud in his position couldn't find out any information, what bloody chance have I got? It was a nice day, so I decided to take a good long walk beside the Thames, to try to clear my head. The river was surprisingly rough for such a nice day, which made for a strong smell, and when I closed my eyes, it made me feel like I was on a beach. Just like the beach at Cornwall, which I had planned for Clair and me.

That all seemed like a lifetime away now. If only I had spent more time with Clair, then maybe I would have given this business up a long time ago, and then neither of us would be in this mess now. If only, if only; there is no point thinking in retrospect, it isn't going to get me anywhere. I am what I am, and I can't change that now, I can only try and make amends with Clair once I have her back safe with me, and we are both as far away from this sordid business as humanly possible.

I looked up and found myself standing at the London eye landmark. I bought a ticket and boarded an empty car. I moved over to one of the large windows and stood there with hands in pockets, waiting for the slow moving wheel to make its way up. No one else entered the car, which suited me; I really didn't need the sound of squabbling kids at this moment in time.

The solitude felt good as the car slowly made it halfway toward the ultimate view of London city that loomed at the top. Once there I looked down, and scanned 360 degrees, taking in the enormity of it all. Somewhere out there was Clair, locked away and frightened, wondering what was to become of her.

I walked a circle around the car in some vain hope of catching a glimpse of her amongst the many thousands of ant-sized people below. I had completely forgotten the fact I hadn't seen her in five years, so wouldn't even know what she looks like. FUCK! I shouted at the top of my voice, while kicking the wooden seat situated in the centre of the car. I quickly looked all around, feeling sure someone must have seen or heard me.

Back on terra firma I calmed down, then a silly idea suddenly crept into my head. Except, it didn't seem that silly after all, but quite the opposite. It was certainly unorthodox; however, I was desperate, and beginning to think, that this was the only way possible for me to get the information I needed. I sat at a table outside a cafe in Covent Garden and ordered a cup of coffee, and began mulling over the idea, weighing up the pros and cons.

I will need to be very clever, and convincing. Which means I need to invent one hell of a story, if I don't want to give the game away. This is not going to be easy, I thought. The girl brought out my coffee; I leaned back in my chair and lit up a cigarette; taking a long puff, I watched as a circle of people stood looking at a young white man sporting dreadlock hair, with an upturned cap at his feet, standing in the middle of the street, juggling five small blue and red balls. I do love Covent Garden; If only Clair was here with me now, it would make for the perfect day. I thought.

******

Having finally concocted what I hoped would be the ideal story; I left my hotel room and hailed a taxi. Moving through the busy streets, I kept going over the story in head trying to ensure I had it straight in my mind before reaching my destination. One slip up and I will be sussed in a heartbeat. I'm not even sure that this person will see me, let alone listen to my story; I need to be as convincing as I can, which means I need to act like one cool customer. This is like a Christian volunteering to enter an arena full of lions. I thought.

Even when I've had to carry out a contract that involved getting really close up to the target; I've never been as nervous as I feel now. Somebody's life depends on what happens in the next few hours, either Clair's, or Rebecca Sykes. If I give the game away, then I will be unable to carry out the contract, which means, if I can't find out where Clair is before the deadline; she's dead. I began to wish the journey in the taxi would never end. Now I know how a condemned man in the nineteenth century on his journey to the hangman's noose must have felt. I thought.

My thoughts were broken as the taxi driver began a conversation. "It's a hot one," he said .

"Yes, looks like we're in for a good summer," I replied .

"It's not very often I get a fare to where you're going, do you work there?"

"No, I've just got some business there, that's all."

He put his finger to his lips. "Oh, right, can't say hay?"

I smiled. "Yeh; something like that," I said .

"Say no more, my lips are sealed," he said , and laughed.

We crossed Waterloo Bridge from the north to the south, and turned right heading west along York road, until we reached Westminster Bridge. We continued alongside the Tames River onto Lambeth Palace road, past Lambeth Bridge, and then onto the Albert Embankment, which would lead me to my final destination. I could see the top of the building up ahead, you can't miss it really, it's one of the largest buildings in Vauxhall and sits right on the bank of the Thames. As it loomed ever closer my heart began racing, I quickly went through the story in my head one more time, just to be sure.

We pulled up to the entrance. "Okay, here we are."

I leant forward to look at the meter, which read ?2:65. I gave the driver ?3:00. "Keep the change."

"Thanks Guv," he said , as I stepped out of the taxi.

I took a deep breath and headed through the main door into a foyer. In the centre of the foyer is a large desk with a security guard sat behind, as I got closer I could see he was surrounded by monitors, which are obviously linked to all the CCTV cameras outside.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" he asked .

"Hi, I would like if possible to speak with the head of department."

He looked at me suspiciously, and franticly began searching through some paperwork. "Do you have an appointment sir?"

"No, I'm afraid not, but_"

He interrupted. "I'm sorry sir, but you can't just walk in here and expect to see the director without an appointment."

"I understand that, however, I think if she knows why I'm here, she may spare me a few minutes of her time. All I ask is that you please call her up and allow me to speak to her"

"I don't know, this is highly irregular, and could get me a severe reprimand."

"Believe me, she will definitely want hear what I have to say."

He shook his head and picked up the phone. "I don't know about this. Okay, what's your name?"

"It's Jack Spader. You won't regret this, I promise you."

"Hello Ma’am, this is security at the front desk. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have a Mr Jack Spader here, he doesn't have an appointment, but says he has some information you will be really interested in-" He handed the phone over to me. "Seems you're in luck."

I took the phone. "Hello Ma’am, you don't know me, but I have