A State Of Sin Amsterdam Occult Series Book Two by Mark Hobson (golden son ebook .TXT) 📕

Pulling down the peak of the baseball hat that he wore, hiding his face from prying eyes or cameras, he sat in his seat and studied the large house before him.

Having thoroughly prepared and rehearsed for tonight, the building was already very familiar. Plans of the inside and outside were ingrained in his memory: the grey stone exterior, large windows on the lower floor and smaller square windows above - the flat roof with twin gables. The new carport on the left, the gravel drive, the gates with their intercom system. The layout of the rooms, with the large and modern kitchen, the dining room and living room with their connecting arched doorway, the wood staircase twisting up to the bedrooms and bathrooms on the upper floor. The smaller dormer rooms right at the top, in one of which the daughter slept. The alarm and security cameras which hopefully he would not need to worry about. All very plush and modern, perfect for a young and beautiful family. A millionaire’s home.

Despite all the money spent on keeping the place secure from intruders, getting inside would be simple. Rich people tended by nature to be quite naïve and not very streetwise. Therefore his plan was simple. Drive up in his van, dressed in the smart uniform and hat of a well-known delivery company, here to deliver some packages to the homeowner. On the passenger seat beside him were several cardboard boxes, each one addressed to Dr Christiaan Bakker. He even had a barcode scanner, purchased off the internet several months ago. He had a fake ID badge clipped to his breast pocket. Attached to his waist belt was a small black object that looked like a mobile phone but was in fact a fully charged Taser, and on the inside of his jacket were three hypodermic syringes, each filled with a light yellow liquid. 2mg of Midazolam, a strong sedative that also had an amnesiac effect and was very fast-acting. One for the father, one for the mother, and one for the daughter. Using these would be easy, all he had to do was just reach into his jacket, pull one out and jab it down hard into a large muscle mass anywhere on the body, the back or upper arm for instance. The drug did sometimes have a few side effects and could cause violent reactions or even respiratory arrest if delivered in too high a dose, but he was willing to take the risks. He had practiced by injecting the sedative into random strangers on the metro late at night to watch the effect, to time the speed that people reacted and to test his technique, and that had been good fun, watching these involuntary guinea pigs stagger and twitch, their legs buckling and collapsing, sending them crashing to the floor in a heap. But that was just for practice, a giggle yes, but only a dress rehearsal. Tonight was the real thing.

Lowering his window, he reached out and pressed the intercom button on one of the gateposts, seeing the small camera on the high wall. Keeping his face tilted downwards, he waited for a reply, and when the female voice came through he replied in a gruff tone.

“Parcel delivery for a Doctor Christiaan Bakker. To be signed for.”

A slight pause, and then, “please come in.”

“Thank you.”

There was a loud click and with a gentle buzz the large double gates swung inwards, and he drove carefully though.

Turning about on the gravel driveway he slowly backed up to the carport and switched off the engine. Before grabbing the cardboard boxes and jumping out, the driver twisted and glanced over his shoulder into the back of the van. He’d mostly cleared everything out over the weekend, before converting it for tonight’s purpose. On the bed of the van was an oblong-shaped metal storage box, about five or six feet long, welded to the floor. The lid was open and the inside of the box was lined with blankets and a sleeping bag. Attached to the side was a small magnetic LED lamp, all switched on and ready. Next to it was a large plastic container. Satisfied that all was in order he climbed out.

Approaching the large side door underneath the carport, he rang the doorbell and waited, parcels clutched in his arms, a ready smile on his face. He heard the clip-clop of footsteps, high-heels on the tiled floor, and then the door opened and an elegant lady with brown hair was standing before him.

He recognized her as the mother, Elise, thirty-something. She didn’t recognize him, even without the baseball hat on she wouldn’t know him from any other delivery guy, because she’d never met him before.

She was waiting with an irritated look on her face.

“Hello,” he said merrily.

“It’s a little late for deliveries isn’t it?” she inquired in her cultured voice. “We are just about to have dinner.”

“I’m sorry about that ma’am.”

“Very well. Where do I sign?”

“I’m afraid Doctor Bakker has to sign for them himself. They are medical files, so they require his ID number as well.”

Mrs Bakker sighed loudly, shook her head in exasperation. “Well in that case you’d better bring them in, they look heavy.”

She moved to one side and he squeezed past, and then she turned and led him down the short hallway. Indicating a small occasional table at the foot of the ornate staircase, she instructed him to place the parcels there. “I’ll get my husband, just one moment.” She turned to go.

“Actually, there’s no need,” he replied as he popped them down. Quickly reaching for his belt, the driver zapped her with the Taser on the back of the neck, and her whole body stiffened before going straight over like a felled tree, catching her temple on the balustrade.

He watched as she lay sprawled across the bottom step, completely still, and for a moment he thought that she’d knocked herself out cold. But then she stirred slightly, and a loud gurgling moan escaped her