Portrait Of An Assassin - Richard Godwin

by Near To The Knuckle

  “I hope there isn’t one. Thank you, Jack, although, I don’t know who to fear more, you or them. I saw those guys.”

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  I left her, knowing it was time to reel Klein in.

  XXVII

  I called on Martoni for a few favours, and he came back to me with a major hit.

  I needed information which only he could give me. Personal details about Klein.

  I was going to start with Morris. He and Klein were like Siamese twins looking for money in a sewer.

  I wanted these two guys hurt and out of my life and Lauren’s. I was going to grab that line and pull them down. Down into my world, into its waters.

  I’d begun to see a future for myself beyond the hits.

  Martoni, as usual, got everything I needed: addresses, personal bank details, past connections and present ones.

  “I hope it helps, Jack,” he said. “And I have something for you.”

  I’d seen this coming. I arranged to meet him the next day.

  I was going to be busy.

  ***

  He was staying at the Lanesborough.

  “This is an unusual one Jack, and at first I was a little put off by it.”

  He passed me the file.

  Inside it were pictures of a woman. Hard as reinforced steel. About as feminine as a suit of armour. As I leafed through the dossier, he gave me the brief.

  “Trudi Stein, a very wealthy woman. Started in retail, to all intents and purposes, and moved her way up through a property empire. She now has her finger in various pies.”

  “Business rivalry?”

  “No. I am all for people doing well. This is for a client.”

  “So, what then?”

  “She is not all she seems and the reason there is a contract out on her is because of something else.”

  I looked though the documents he’d enclosed and began to see Stein was involved in a lot she wouldn’t want her name connected to: sweat shops, people trafficking and a lot more.

  “She has many companies. How she started was as a Madame. Her girls hated her, and remember her to this day with loathing. She had them beaten up, paid them hardly anything and set them up with very violent customers. They felt she had some sadistic kick, enjoyed seeing them hurt.”

  “And now?”

  “That’s behind her, but you see some of it in the file there. She rips off anyone who gets in her way. And if she can’t rip them off, she has them removed. Millions have been stolen by her over the years. Also, she has muscled in on the drug market.”

  “Competition?”

  He shook his head again.

  “More than that.”

  “What is it she has done to your client?”

  “She owes him money, firstly. That in itself would not have been enough for me to contact you.”

  “How much?”

  “Two million dollars.”

  “But this is more than debt collection.”

  “She was employing his daughter at one of her companies. A very intelligent, attractive woman with a big future in front of her. She was a lawyer and stumbled across something on Stein. She wouldn’t let it drop. She expected to be sacked, but no, she was sent on a business trip, all expenses paid to Columbia.”

  “Straight into a trap.”

  “She didn’t just have her killed. She enjoys seeing people suffer. She wanted it to look like a random attack. She was raped repeatedly and tortured, left to die in a hole in the ground. She was pregnant. My client is willing to pay two million.”

  The idea of carrying out a hit on a female target was still uncomfortable to me. But then, was Stein any better than Sharp? I thought for a minute, knowing Martoni expected reciprocity for what he’d done for me, and considering there was nothing in the job to stop me doing it. What I was weighing up was how much time it would leave me to deal with other matters.

  “I need an expense account.”

  “We can set one up for, say, 150K.”

  “That’ll do for the moment.”

  ***

  Reading up on Stein was instructive: she was a seriously ruthless businesswoman with no friends and a lot more money than she was letting on.

  The pictures of her various victims said it all. She was a vicious bitch.

  A lot of people had disappeared over the years. Business contacts who got in her way were sent to out of the way places where criminal investigation was not well developed and the murder of foreigners not considered a priority.

  Her offices stretched from London to New York, via just about every major European city.

  She could usually be found at the offices of MultiTec when in London, a huge building in the Docklands.

  I decided to pay it a visit.

  ***

  The security was tight and I couldn’t get past reception.

  A hard–nosed woman in her early thirties asked me who I was there to see and when the name I gave bounced, said, “He says he’s never heard of you. What is the nature of your business?”

  “I have some business to put MultiTec’s way.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Look, there has to be some misunderstanding. I was given an appointment at this time. Now, can I see someone, please?”

  She got on the phone.

  “He won’t say who he works for…Yes, I know. All right.”

  She hung up.

  “If you could leave your personal details, then someone will call you back.”

  “I’ve come all this way on good faith.”

  “Unfortunately, we do not have any record of your appointment.”

  “That’s not very impressive.”

  She looked irritated and handed me a pad and pen.

  “If you could put your details down here, someone will be in touch.”

  I gave her a mobile number and left.

  A man called Tom Drake rang me later that day.

  “I believe there was some mix up over an appointment. We’ve checked our details, but really can’t see any record of it.”

  “I have some contacts in South America who are interested in liaising with Mrs. Stein.”

  “Which part of South America?”

  “Venezuela, Bolivia mainly.”

  “And what is the nature of the business?”

  “Forestry and development.”

  Stein was buying a lot of land in South America and I hoped this would drop enough of a hint or bait when he reported it back to her.

  “That’s interesting. I’m not sure if we would get involved in that, but I’ll find out and get back to you.”

  He did.

  The next morning, my phone went bright and early.

  He asked me if I could come in again, and we arranged an appointment for the next day. Martoni helped me with a list of credible contacts and I spent the best part of the day putting together a business proposition.

  I spent the evening with Lauren, who appeared relaxed and happy.

  No mention of any stooges, but I knew replacements were on their way.

  ***

  Tom Drake went through a polite routine with me that basically amounted to fobbing me off while pretending to listen to my pitch. He’d obviously not mentioned me to Stein.

  “That’s very interesting,” he said after half an hour, getting to his feet dismissively.

  “I have one more thing I want to show you”, I said, and passed him some contacts in Bolivia.

  He paused and looked intently at me.

  “Could you leave these with me?”

  “No.”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  He put the file down and left the room.

  A few minutes later he returned.

  “I have a list of free times for Mrs. Stein, perhaps we can arrange an appointment for you to see her?”

  “Sure.”

  He booked me in for the end of the week and looking at me with angry respect saw me out of the building.


  Driving back I saw an army of flashing lights. The sniper had struck again and the police were tightening security.

  XXVIII

  I checked out her house.

  A huge place in ‘The Boltons’.

  Surveillance paid off: I could see a few ways in.

  So far the offices at MultiTec looked a no–go for carrying out the hit.

  I saw Lauren and made sure she wasn’t being followed and waited for my appointment. In the meantime, I did more digging around Klein.

  He was doing a lot of business with Russia. I guessed it wasn’t the government that was funding his purchase of a Lear Jet.

  A couple of the names he was mixing with were definitely Russian Mafia. A greedy guy like that had a habit of pissing people off. His government connections weren’t going to count for anything in that world. The more dirt surrounding him, the better my camouflage.

  Morris carried out whatever he asked him to do.

  A few days later and the stooges were back. Two new guys who were slightly less conspicuous than the first pair.

  Lauren didn’t notice them, but I did.

  I said nothing to her, and instead tracked them home one night and beat the shit out of them. One at a time, leaving them needing hospital treatment.

  The message was certainly getting back to Klein.

  The next day I met Stein over at MultiTec.

  She was an ugly, superficially charming woman who had a razor–sharp business brain and a voice like breaking glass.

  Dressed from head to toe in designer gear she ushered me into her office. It was as big as an apartment and commendations and awards lined the walls.

  “I believe you have some contacts in Bolivia,” she said by way of opening.

  “I showed them to your colleague.”

  “Could I have a look?”

  I passed her the file, and she pored over it for a while.

  “This could be very useful to us. How much do you know of what we are planning in South America?”

  I knew she would be trying to find out why I’d approached her with this and noticed how intently she was looking at me.

  “Not much. I know you’ve been trading with Colombia.”

  “Oh?”

  “The natural resources in South America must be extremely useful to a company like MultiTec.”

  “They are.”

  “So are you interested? I do have other parties.”

  “What are you proposing?”

  “We set up a joint trading venture. I hand my contacts over to you for a part of the trade.”

  “How much?”

  “Say, ten percent.”

  I knew she would jump at that.

  “That sounds okay. And your involvement?”

  “Minimal. As much as you want.”

  “Then I think we can draw up some initial plans”, she said.

  We shook hands and arranged another appointment.

  I’d seen most of the building, but used the opportunity to ask a few questions.

  “I can ask one of my staff to show you around, if you’re interested,” she said.

  Exactly what I wanted. Except, the tour ruled the offices out once and for all, the security was like Fort Knox. The hit would be at her house.

  I knew she would have me checked out.

  But I was moving too quickly for her. This was my fastest hit.

  One evening after spending time with Lauren I paid another visit to The Boltons.

  It was gone two when I got there and parking round the corner I decided on a trial run. The garden looked the best option.

  I disabled the sensor lights and climbed over the gate.

  I had a quick look round and saw that one of the windows was forcible, then I hightailed it out of there before anyone stirred.

  ***

  Then Lauren called me one morning.

  I could hear fear in her voice.

  “Jack, they’re back.”

  “The same guys?”

  “No different ones. They’ve been out there all night.”

  “Get a taxi to work and I’ll meet you there later. What time do you finish?”

  “About six.”

  “Don’t leave until I’ve turned up.”

  I drove round and saw them.

  This time I was going to try something different.

  As they went off for some lunch, I called a contact of mine for a favour. He turned up within minutes.

  I levered their door open and removed their parking permit.

  Then he towed their car away, putting it in the pound.

  When I met Lauren I suggested she spend the night at my Mayfair penthouse.

  I went out for some groceries and she made dinner. I was trying to keep her calm, which was getting harder.

  The next morning I took her in to work and drove by her place to check if the stooges were back.

  No sign of them.

  ***

  Around this time the papers were filled with news of the sniper. It looked like we had a new serial killer on the loose: there had been several deaths in major cities across the country in addition to the two in London and reading the profile, the guy struck me from the off as a pro.

  XXIX

  Stein was getting suspicious.

  I had twenty–four hours until our appointment and avoiding it seemed the best option. There was only one way to do that.

  Martoni phoned, saying that she was planning something big in Colombia and the interests of another client were threatened. He wanted her stopped and fast. So did I.

  I looked at her file again and thought about the young woman she’d got raped and tortured.

  I analysed the information on Stein, her habits. The Google earth shots I had showed she had a habit of watering her roof garden at night. Her husband was away on business and her kids were all grown up. Staff came and went at her house, but Saturday nights she’d spend alone if she wasn’t entertaining.

  There was no reason to delay.

  I turned up at eleven, parked round the corner then disabled the sensor lights and climbed into the back garden.

  I could see she had guests.

  A cosmopolitan crowd was assembled there; many of them looked South American.

  I waited until gone midnight and watched them leave one by one.

  It needed to look like an accident.

  After a while, true to habit, she went up onto her roof terrace.

  As the lights went on up there I jemmied the window at the side and climbed in.

  I changed shoes.

  It was two flights up and when I got there the door was open. She had her back to me.

  She’d been drinking all night and was wobbling slightly as she hosed her plants down.

  I waited until she went right over to the edge, and sneaking up behind her, pushed her in the back.

  She staggered and went over the first time. I didn’t need to exert much force, so there would be no pre–impact bruising.

  I saw her crash below onto the patio.

  I went back down and left the way I came.

  She lay there in a pool of blood with the watering can next to her.

  I left and walked back to the car round the corner.

  I changed my shoes and drove away.

  ***

  The next day I called Martoni.

  “It’s done.”

  “A fall, I hear. Nice touch.”

  A few days later the money came through to my account. By then, I was busy with Klein.

  XXX

  The ace I held were the pictures I took of those files from Global Nexus. Klein was angry now he knew the scrambled files were a hoax, but he was going to stop me leaking what I still had to the press.

  I still had my uses alive.

  The stooges came back.

  This time in another car.

  I cut their break wires.

  They didn’t die, but Klein’s hands started to shake.

  He’d also found out my address
.

  I saw the car outside and turned round.

  I booked into a hotel.

  Late that night I ambushed them.

  They were livelier than the previous ones.

  I caught them trying to break into my apartment when I hit one of them with a cosh. He went down cold and I fought the other guy for a while.

  Eventually I knocked him out with a broken jaw.

  I needed to get to Klein fast.

  The next day I went over to his address.

  The security was so tight it would be impossible to get in. And I knew approaching him at his place of work would be out of the question.

  So I laid another trap. My biggest weapon against Klein was information.

  Everything Martoni had given me added up to a nice little bit of time in prison for him and Morris. I had recordings of his deals and financial details. If the papers bit, then the police would have to investigate.

  I took a package round to the offices of The Sun and handed it in anonymously.

  I requested no fee and the editor happily took it off me.

  I wanted to destabilize them.

  I spent a couple of days at Lauren’s flat and watched the next car drive up.

  ***

  I’d been thinking of retiring and leaving England, so when Martoni called and told me about some property in Sicily I couldn’t resist.

  I looked at the portfolio he sent over and immediately spotted the perfect place: a large villa near enough to a town, but quiet. It was reasonably priced and I knew the area. I thought it would prove a useful bolt–hole for Lauren and me when Klein and Morris were exposed by the British press.

  Lauren was getting edgy again and I suspected she’d noticed the car which was parked in her street every day.

  She said she was being followed to work again and I began to wonder if The Sun was going to bite.

  Then, one morning I bought the papers. Two headlines dominated them.

  The first read:

  Government minister in arms deal scandal