NATIONAL TREASURE by Barry Faulkner (the best electronic book reader .txt) 📕

planning details down to where the gambling machines and table were to be put and every room labelled, ‘birouri’, office, ‘magazine’, stores, and ‘spatiu de locuit’, living area.’

‘A burglar’s route map, eh?’

‘Your route map – study it.’ She stood to go. ‘I’m going to go and have a good look round, I’ll be back about ten o’clock – be ready. Everything’s in here.’ She put the shoulder bag on the bed. ‘If you eat, get room service to bring something up. Don’t leave the room – we don’t want your face on any CCTV.’ And with that instruction she left without another word.

I ordered a chicken salad and coffee and watched the BBC World News on the TV as I ate it – nothing about the Bucharest Club in London – set my mobile alarm for nine and then slept.

   **********************************

The mobile buzzed and woke me up. It wasn’t nine and caller ID showed Gold. I swung my legs off the bed and took it.

‘Yes?’

‘You’ve got company.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I was checking the alley behind The Amsterdam Club and two heavies came out. I followed them in case the Bogdans had another place nearby where the girl might be. They came straight to the hotel, spent some time at reception, and are now outside your door. I’ll do a walk by and we can do a double shift. I’ll take your left-hand one’

‘Okay.’

A double shift is an attack method using one of you from the front of the targets and one from the back. Gold taking the left hand one meant she’d take care of the one on my left when I opened the door; I had to take the one on the right.

‘Five seconds.’

I moved to the side of the door. If I’d looked through the peephole I’d probably have seen another eye looking in, so I kept under it, counting the seconds away in my head – one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi... I pulled the door open as fast as I could and reached for the coat lapels of the goon on the right, pulling him towards me into the room, and smashed my forehead into his nose before he knew what was happening. I swung him round, kicked him in the back of his legs so he went down on his knees, and putting a lock on his head twisted until the sudden relaxation of his body told me I’d broken his neck and he was dead. I let him slump to the floor and turned to help Gold. Needless to say, she didn’t need any help; her goon was already dead, face down on the floor, blood seeping from the slit in his carotid neck artery onto a very expensive Marriot carpet. Gold kicked the room door shut behind her and went into the bathroom to clean blood from her knife and hands. I searched their overcoat pockets and found what I was looking for: each had a PPKS 9mm short pistol with a full clip.

I took the duvet from the bed and covered the bodies.

‘That was lucky,’ I said as she came back out, and I passed one of the pistols over and pocketed the other. Gold checked it over and put it in the shoulder bag.

‘We have to be clear by the morning, room service comes round about ten,’ she said, pushing the clean knife back into the sheaf Velcroed round her right ankle and switching on the hotel’s electric kettle. ‘Tea?’ I think there must be an English ancestor somewhere in her family history.

Good job I’d persuaded Clancy not to involve the local police; we’d been in the country a few hours and already two dead! Let’s hope they’re not missed and nobody comes looking for them. Hotel reception would say they came up to this room.

We drank our tea and went over the plan of the club building again. If Janie was there she’d be on one of the upper floors, probably the one with the stores; if the top two floors were living quarters I couldn’t see whoever lived there wanting a hostage for company. I wouldn’t see how to get up from the ground floor until I was inside, although there was always the fire escape on the back. First problem was getting into the club. I had thought of creating another ‘Big Tony’ incident, but I’d prefer to get inside quietly and un-noticed as it might take time to find Janie. I would need a distraction to get me in, something Gold specialises in.

We finished our tea and I went into the bathroom and changed into my black gear: black suede ankle boots with thick rubber soles, black polo neck thermal jumper and black jeans with thigh, shin and back pockets, and of course my stab-proof vest. I put my knife sheath round my right ankle, the PKK in my right pocket, safety on, and fastened our communication battery pack onto my belt, pushed in my earpiece and clipped my microphone onto my polo neck; all wireless, so no leads to get tangled or pulled out. I was all set. Last thing was black gloves and balaclava ready for use in left thigh pocket. I gave Gold the hire car keys and told her whereabouts in the hotel garage it was; I always try to park as near to a car park exit as I can, for obvious reasons. Once I was in the club, Gold would fetch the car and be on hand for a speedy getaway, with or without Janie Johnson, but hopefully with her.

Gold took the lift to the main entrance and I took the overcoat from my goon, checked it wasn’t bloody, slipped it on over my black gear and made my way out down the back stairs to the car park, onto the hotel front apron and across into the street.