His phone let off a bing from the messenger bag in the passenger seat. Pulling to a stop at an intersection he took it out and checked the message. It was from Luca, nothing more than an address to go to. Alaric rolled his eyes. When he was in work mode, Luca could be a real prick.
It had taken Alaric about four hours to clear out of Toulouse, get on the plane and get to Milan, and he was coming up on hour five when he bought guns, ammo, and stealth gear from a local contact of Infinity Consulting. Always cash only, no names – and way too easy.
He decided to do a test run by the target on his way to the hotel, so he could time it in heavy afternoon traffic to see a maximum time for transport that night. The villa he pulled up on was tan and butted up against a four story white building. It was old world pretty on the outside, but through an open curtain downstairs Alaric could see new world luxury on the inside as he drove by. Letting the Maserati take him towards the hotel he found it was about twenty minutes in traffic, not bad at all.
When he got to the hotel he parked his own car, not wanting a valet messing with the clutch of the beautiful car before he even got a chance to test it out. Alaric got out and it was now two duffel bags that he walked into the luxury hotel with, and as he smiled at the front desk he was reminded of Luca’s comment to him when he was a kid – anyone with a smile like yours is dangerous, a smile like that isn’t real, but everyone wants to believe it is.
The girl behind the front desk seemed to want to believe it, and he leaned casually on the desk to talk to her. When he asked for a quiet corner of the building in fluent Italian she blushed and obliged, telling him that they were doing construction on the floor below him, so it should be private. He winked at her as he walked away, replacing the sunglasses as he stepped into the elevator.
Seven floors, turn left, luxury suite. Bedroom off to the right of the living room, separated by French doors. Huge bathroom that was bigger than the childhood bedroom he’d shared with his sister.
If only he could show her all this – show her he wasn’t a screw up.
Opening his duffel he took out something extra he’d bought from their contact, an electronic pressure lock for the inside of a door. Sealing it into place Alaric sat back and then yanked on it, when it didn’t budge he nodded.
“Get through that, Luca.” Alaric mumbled to himself and checked the windows. They didn’t open anymore and there was a seven story vertical drop. As he fell onto the plush bed he knew he needed to reset before the job. Get himself centered. Focused.
Taking out his phone he told it to wake him up in two hours and then he crashed.
An electronic nuclear siren went off about six inches to the left of his ear and Alaric sat up straight holding one of the guns he’d purchased that afternoon, aiming at absolutely nothing through those delicate French doors. No one and nothing. He fell back against the pillows.
There were benefits and drawbacks to being trained like he had. Benefits? You reacted without thinking, you could follow most orders without question, and your body generally didn’t really fail you. Your body would catch you, respond to you, protect you - even when you weren’t aware of it. The drawbacks were along the same lines though. Sometimes it reacted when you didn’t want it to, sometimes you did a duck and cover when you didn’t need to, and sometimes you woke up pointing a gun at a bad painting of flowers. If he’d ever been some kind of military he might have called it PTSD, but for his job he didn’t think any kind of workman’s comp covered what was wrong with him.
But, honestly, there were only so many times in training someone could attack you in your sleep before you started sleeping light and waking up a little jumpy. Luca had designed the training for these reactions though. Luca had designed everything.
Even him.
Dragging himself out of bed Alaric peeked out the window and from his high-story viewpoint he could see the sun heading down. Popping open his laptop again he heard it whir to a start as he called room service, more tea and a light dinner. When it arrived Alaric thanked the guy and dropped a white strip into the tea. Luca had assured him it could check for over a hundred different drugs and poisons, and Alaric kept a handful of them in his pockets all the time.
Sixty seconds later? Nothing. Just a wet white strip. What a way to live.
Drinking the tea Alaric was reminded of why he preferred having tea in the UK, the Italians prided themselves on their coffee for a reason. You could take the boy from England, but you couldn’t take England out of –
She was beautiful.
Alaric hadn’t scrolled past the first two pages of her pictures, but the others had more casual snapshots. Some were through the windows of what looked like her bedroom. In one her hair was down in waves, a simple shirt and jeans, no makeup, no jewelry. She had headphones in her ears, the bright white cord standing out against the dark color of her shirt, and her hands were up like she was conducting. In another series she was doing push-ups, then sit-ups, then yoga. He may have looked at the yoga pictures longer than he should have. Could the guy with his arm around her waist in the earlier pictures be her father? She was fair of skin, none of the olive complexion, but if her mother had it…
Was he going to kill this girl’s father?
He grabbed his phone and sent one question: is he her father
Luca responded instantly, never far from his army of communication devices: No
Well, that was settled. Alaric didn’t want details, but he had needed to know that, needed to know he wasn’t killing her father. With her smile so bright, seeming so happy where she was – and knowing he was about to rip her out of it – he’d had to know.
Stop. No investing.
He shut himself down and knew he had stared at her too long, he couldn’t even argue with himself that it was to know for sure what she looked like. He’d memorized her face after the first picture. Pulling up the floor plans again to cover the document with her pictures he started on a plan, while stuffing a small backpack with all his what-if items. Someone had gone to the effort to label the rooms in messy handwriting. The whole second floor was Gianni’s, and strangely the room next door to his massive one was labeled with one word, girl. Nothing else was interesting, except for the basement which simply read: off limits - why?
A knock on his door had him palming his .40 which already had the silencer attached. Stepping up to the door he looked into the hall to see someone in a hotel uniform, so he pressed a button on the pressure lock and leaned it against the wall, calling out, “A moment!” He opened the door with one hand, keeping the .40 trained on the person through the door. The wood might slow the bullet down, but not enough.
The guy smiled at him and gestured at a huge box at his feet, which had a smaller box on top. “You’ve got a delivery! How did you know what room you were going to get? Didn’t you just check in?”
Alaric looked down and on the printed labels of both was the alias he’d used to check in, the address of the hotel, and his room number.
Luca.
“Ah, I booked ahead. Thanks.” Alaric stepped back enough to let the guy shuffle the boxes into the doorway and then he eased the door forward so the guy knew to step back. “Here.” He offered the guy a fifty-euro note, which hopefully meant the guy wouldn’t ask any follow-ups.
“Have a good night!” The guy shouted over his shoulder as he headed back towards the elevator, and Alaric shut the door. Looking down at the boxes Alaric tried to figure out what the hell Luca would have sent him. He already had the guns and the equipment. With a sigh he slid out his knife and slit the large box open. On the top was a note:
For the girl.
-L.
Alaric ignored the guidance from Luca and still sorted through it a bit, mostly clothes and the box smelled a little like perfume. Grabbing the smaller box he moved the larger over by the couch in the living room. Slicing open the smaller box there was a black case inside, with another note on the front:
Sedative. Use it. No damage, I promis
e.
-L.
Unzipping the black case there were three syringes filled halfway with a blue liquid, a small label was wrapped around a vial on the left of the case with more blue liquid inside: “30cc only”. At least the sedative would keep her calm and quiet. As the reality of the job settled on him his stomach turned at the idea that he had been basically hired for a kidnapping, but, like Luca had said, if he refused they’d just send someone else.
At least she’d be safe with him.
With a mental shake he returned to planning his entry and exit strategies. Pre-loading magazines for instant reload inside while he studied the floor plans again along with the external photos – both day shots and night vision. Someone good had done the recon for this, so why weren’t they getting the girl out? Maybe they weren’t willing to pull a trigger like they were willing to click a camera.
Alaric had been in that place once. Recon only for the first couple of years on the job, but that hadn’t lasted. Luca had always said he’d seen something special in him right from the beginning. Laying a full clip down he grabbed another magazine and continued filling, pressing the bullets down against the spring as he reviewed everything again and again until it all lived in his head in full color.
When night fell Alaric found himself pacing in the hotel room. The bag was packed, he’d memorized his plan, and his back-up plan, and his fallout plan. He’d texted Luca with a simple “ready” and received a short “ok” in response.
Time was crawling, and it left him too much time to think, and too much time to look at her pictures. Why would someone pay so much to get a girl out of a house she seemed happy in?
Looks can be deceiving.
That had absolutely been true at his house. It could be true of this house, she could be miserable. She could be in danger. For a moment he felt a spark light up inside his chest – maybe he was saving this girl. Maybe he’d be a hero for once in his life instead of just some grim spectre of death.
Doubtful… but possible.
Checking himself in the mirror he tilted his head. All of the matte black stealth gear didn’t even reflect the harsh light in the bathroom. A bulletproof vest weighed him down, along with his two guns, pre-attached to silencers. Two reload clips on each side. His knife. A garrote cable tucked into a pocket. Flashlight, glass cutter, back-up knife. And his small pack was sitting on the couch, holding even more. He’d be carrying about sixty pounds when all was done, and he definitely didn’t look like a hero.
He looked like the killer that he was.
At midnight he pulled on his coat, which he had bought for the sole purpose that it hung from him in such a way that the bulges of the weapons never showed. Throwing the small pack over his shoulder he headed downstairs with the knit cap tugged over his hair again, and no one even looked twice on his way out the door.
Back in the car he felt a sense of peace settle over him now that he had the power of the car at his fingertips, the guns at his sides, the target in mind – he was in control. This was his job. The cool clarity filled him as he prepared to leave and he compartmentalized again. Anything not to do with the contract was shelved, shut away in a box he could mark with ‘deal with later’, and move past mentally. When he opened his eyes again he was good, it was time to move, and the engine growled in response as he eased into the traffic.
He passed by the villa twice to check that all of the lights were out on the second floor, and then he parked about fifty yards east of the gate to the drive. Getting out he walked the long way around the block until he came up to the rear wall. Coat into the bag, and a running jump let him pull up and over so he could land in a crouch inside the property. As the motion sensor lights started clicking on he popped off silenced rounds to put them back out, the dropping shards of glass still made less noise than the cars passing on the street.
Still, he waited a moment for the sound of anyone coming. No one.
Alaric made quick work of climbing to the second floor balcony, which had no security bars. It was little effort to cut the glass out of the window and set it down inside the hallway, before he reached up and flipped the lock. People built these palaces to be impenetrable, but for people like him it was just a puzzle. A puzzle he was always able to crack.
He closed his eyes and saw the floor plan in his head. Only two bedrooms on this floor, Gianni’s first. The girl was next door. This would be an easy in and out, as long as he could keep her quiet. Crouching low he moved to Gianni’s door and turned the handle slow, conscious of every tiny creak of the metal until the door swung open smoothly. Alaric shifted himself inside, into the shadows by the door, and eased it closed.
Listening for any movement he stayed still, and then moved forward slowly to the bed. Under the bedding there was an outline of a person sleeping, but he had to verify the identity. He raised the gun in one hand and lifted a small flashlight with the other. Pulling the image of Gianni Formato to the forefront of his thoughts, he clicked the light on.
Confirmed.
With two muffled puffs of air it was done. Another person dead. When it was his turn, he hoped he was so lucky to go in his sleep, unaware of the gun. Just a sudden nothingness.
Clicking the flashlight off he tucked it back into a pocket and moved to the door that joined the two rooms. He put the gun away and slid out one of those blue syringes, prepared to carry the girl out if he had to, but gently.
Shit. What if she fought back?
The pictures he’d seen flashed in his brain. Ones of her smiling, her blonde waves trailing over her shoulder as she’d moved into some triangle pose, the concentration on her face when she’d listened to music – dammit, he couldn’t hurt her.
Now, is a great time to think through this part, Alaric.
Standing in a room with a dead man. Just genius.
He touched the handle of the door and it moved open smoothly like the other, but this time he rushed to the bed so he could try and get her out before she started screaming.
Nothing. No one asleep in bed, and it was still crisply made like no one had been there.
Turning around he was struck by the scent of milk soap. It was clean and had an undertone of herbs. As he leaned over he realized the smell was all over the bed, and then he realized that he was being really fucking weird taking deep breaths in some socialite’s bedroom. Pressing the heel of his hand to his temple he turned around, his eyes skipping over a pile of magazines, a make-up table to rival a display in a mall, and an empty violin case.
The girl wasn’t here.
If not in this room, where could she be? Back through the floor plan in his head: third floor was staff, first floor security detail and living and kitchen.
Weird off limits basement?
Slipping into the hall he tucked the sedative into a side pocket and drew the gun again. He stuck to the wall as he moved carefully down the stairs to the first floor, but a voice from the hall below drew his attention and he froze.
“I don’t think Gianni will care if she’s gone in the morning, he was upset with her when he got back, he has her downstairs.” The voice was speaking Italian in a hallway that ran under the staircase, the voice bouncing off all that marble on the first floor. Alaric worked through the rapid translation as the man continued. “Tell him he can come get her now, payment is complete.”
There was the confirmation he needed that she was in the basement, but who else would be coming for her? Worry about it later. Get the girl. Dropping over the side of the stairs Alaric landed quietly and shot the guy almost point blank, the phone he’d been on went skidding across the marble, but Alaric managed to grab the guy before he fell and eased him to the floor.
“Armand?” A voice came from farther down the hall and Alaric moved towards it quickly. As soon as the figure turned the corner he fired twice and the man let out a stunned shout of pain. Bloody hell. Alaric rushed forward to cover the guy’s mouth as he groaned and he pushed him to the floor to wait for him to go silent.
Too much noise.
He needed to orient himself to figure out where the steps to the basement were before the bodies were discovered. A moment later the man went limp and he let go, wiping his hands on his pants.
Doubling back he turned right and could see the front door and then he knew where to go, the floor plan alight in his brain as if the computer screen were still in front of him. Crossing the foyer he turned down a short hall just as he heard shouts of alarm behind him. He stopped and pressed himself back against the wall, hiding inside the hallway. Smacking his head back against the wall Alaric gritted his teeth in frustration. Now that he was downstairs he was already on his back-up plan, and he hadn’t even found the fucking girl yet. He heard footsteps move past the hall he was in, and he started counting in his head to five.
One, two, three, fo-
A dark haired guy turned into the hall staring past him to the open doorway to the basement, but then he saw Alaric. His gun was up and firing instantly, but Alaric slammed his hand into the guy’s firing arm and the bullet buried itself in the wall. Bringing his elbow up into the side of the man’s head Alaric twisted the hand holding the gun until it dropped and then kicked him in the back of the knee to drop him. A single shot put an end to that and Alaric stepped over the guy to head to the stairs.
The shot was going to bring more of them. No more time, he had to get her out now.
Chapter Four
When the bands had hummed against her wrists before suddenly disappearing minutes before, Tara had sat up on the bed and ripped the headphones out of her ears. She was free, but she was still locked in the damn cell. Gianni had to be dead, because there were no new bands on her wrists, no warning shocks of pain up her arms to tell her a new master controlled them. No new master at the bars waiting to take her. Nothing.
Above her there were shouts, and the sound of heavy feet running across the floor. More silence. Then a loud pop came from the top of the stairs, and she jumped.
Tara Page 3
