by Brian Cain
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Stanton knew he had to act fast. He sent a text from Bakir Mashun's phone to Masters simply saying job done. He tidied up and returned his horse to the property next door where it was cared for, without them being aware that it was gone. He headed to Sydney on board a Harley Davidson he kept at the Blue Mountains property; on a Sunday they were everywhere. The Stamford Plaza Sydney was a tough nut to crack. He rode to Circular Quay and parked in the mooring shed, leaving his bike there and taking a plain white Holden commodore from the vehicles stowed there with false government plates; he ratified the plates in the security system via satellite. He changed into a black suit and a white shirt that had been hanging in the back of the vehicle and put on gold rim Ray-Bans and a false moustache. He drove straight to the Stamford at Sydney Airport, parked in the government car park area and walked directly into the foyer. It was eleven am, the security guard on the door pulled him up.
"You have business here sir?" he asked. Stanton shrugged his head and shoulders to one side then looked over his glasses at the guard sternly. "Yes sir, I understand." Stanton continued on to the lifts and waved to the staff at the desk on the way past.
One desk clerk raised his eyebrows to the other who responded. "Government vehicle, best left alone, can be more trouble than it’s worth," commented the second desk clerk. He took a lift to the top level matching the room number of the card key with the level he acquired from Mashun. He entered Mashun's room and searched it. He retrieved a lap top computer, observed the paperwork Mashun had studied to plan his attempt on Stanton's life and found some maps and detailed plans of buildings and grounds from somewhere in Pakistan. He put them into a black brief case also full of papers on the table and secured it. He sent another text message to Masters: Come to my room I have something for you we must celebrate.
Masters smiled as he got the message and proceeded directly to Mashun's room. Stanton was reasonably sure they would have some kind of knock code; one knocks and must receive a reply so he stood directly at the door and waited for the knock. Masters knocked and before he had finished the door flew open and Stanton grabbed him by the shirt collar with his left hand dragged him inside calmly and quietly closing the door behind him with his foot. He then punched Masters square in the face breaking his nose and sending him crashing to the floor. Stanton immediately followed up with a kick between his legs connecting with Masters’ private parts and Masters groaned in pain. He picked Masters up by the scruff of the neck and sat him on the lounge pointing towards the door, searched his pockets and confiscated his keys, phone and wallet and a small under and over 22 calibre derringer pistol no bigger than a match box. He stood against the wall next to Masters and looking towards the door.
"Well, well, John Masters just the bloke I'm looking for. I'm pretty sure you realise you have about two minutes, maybe not even that." Masters was in pain and answered amidst moans.
"God Stanton… what do you want… anything, it’s yours."
"Tali Mahir, does the name ring a bell?"
"Yes, yes please don't hurt me anymore for god's sake man."
"God’s sake, huh, neither of us are on a path to meet the person, now Tali Mahir."
"He’s involved in the nuclear program in Pakistan, government official.
"What! Keep talking."
"He's been draining money from coffers in Pakistan to pay us for arms from us, we couldn't supply so we redirected some supplied stock in Afghanistan. Someone has transferred all the money - it's a mess. It's every man for himself, the CIA have been nosing around, I think they know."
"Know what?"
"It's all a smoke screen, Mahir is negotiating with Al Qaeda, the Taliban, even western radicals to infiltrate the Pakistan government and take control of the nuclear arsenal. They have promised him a country to himself if they are successful."
"You idiot, I didn't think even you could be that stupid. You think you would survive that."
"No one knew until the money disappeared and they started pointing fingers, looking for us, me, Tucker. Hadar Mukam leaked the information, wanted to sell details to us about the whole deal, names, places."
"Those guys are both Israeli, how the hell did they get into the middle of the Pakistan government?"
"Look I don't know, we nearly had the information from Hadar but someone knocked him over."
"God Masters if that happens World War Three will last about ten minutes."
"Mashun nearly had the info from Mukam, what happened to him?"
"Er… he met with a slight accident."
"Now me Stanton?"
"You better believe it, what would you do with the information, blackmail some poor bastard out to a small fortune. Run till you couldn't run any further, flights to the outer reaches of the solar system aren't up and running yet. How long have I got?"
"Who knows, now this has happened they’ll have to get on with it before you or the CIA, MI6 or someone finds them." Masters started laughing at Stanton. "He he he, you've cocked it up Stanton. You drove this."
"Pig’s arse I have, I'm just getting started, now get up." Stanton took Masters to the window by the scruff of the neck and could see the pool way below out the window at ground level. He marched Masters out of the door along the corridor to the fire escape stairs and took him to the roof level. Masters began to struggle as they approached the eastern edge of the roof.
"No. No, Stanton, I can help..no!" Masters began to struggle violently and Stanton struck him between the shoulder blades winding him. He dragged him to the edge of the roof as he struggled for breath. Stanton moved further down the roof to line up as best he could with the pool centre, he put Masters head over the edge grabbed his legs and tossed him out into the air. He watched him fall silently for a few seconds. He had made a wind error and Masters connected with the edge of the pool before sliding into the water. Blood surrounded his body as he floated in the water and terrified onlookers screamed, running around in all directions.
Stanton cleaned all he could out of both Masters’ and Mashun's rooms including a second lap top from Masters’ room. He used two brief cases he had found and secured them to his wrists both already full of papers. He made his way down the fire escape to the basement, walked up the underground car park ramp to his car and casually drove away. He swapped the car for the Harley again at Circular Quay and with full brief cases looking like saddle bags headed straight to the lair. He joined a motorcade of bikes heading north on the F3 motorway just out of Hornsby mingling and thinking in the afternoon sun. So much information and not much time; was all he had learned true or just flak to change people’s direction? He knew he was in for a long night checking things out and hatching a plan.
