Jack Williams could have interjected at this point. He knew that the psychologist Dr. Hill was full of shit. He knew that Brian Samuals was on a revenge spree, pure and simple. He'd been able to work out that in the assassination of the Premier and the Ambassador the real target must have been protective services officer Barry Robertson, Brian's former parole officer. He knew how Brian's mind worked. He wasn’t political, he wasn’t a showman, but he was a mean bad tempered vengeful son of a bitch. The bankers! That was because they foreclosed on his mortgage. Williams had checked. The actual banker that did this, Andrew Carter, had died of a heart attack. Brian was just going up the chain of command. It was as if the fucker had made a list and was just going through it systematically. Of course, if he was doing that then Williams knew that he himself had to be right up there on the top of the fucking list. Williams had called in some more of his own men, for close quarter protection, and he had been varying his schedule. He hadn’t been going out in the open much lately. It certainly wasn’t in his interest to reveal to the larger group that Brian was gunning for him and thereby raise the question of why. So he didn’t say anything. He knew that Brian would certainly stay in Melbourne for at least one more attempted hit. Yours truly. They just had to kill him first.
There was a lot of discussion on who or what Brian might attack next. Would it be in Melbourne or elsewhere. Would he escalate to bombings? Did he have the capability? They decided to try blocking the major highways out of Melbourne and increase security around key buildings and public places. Increased security for public figures as well. But no need to increase the security around the politicians of course. Like so many rats they were already scurrying for cover and making themselves scarce. They all knew who to look out for most and were already well protected. Everybody present had a position. Everybody had an opinion. No-one knew anything except Jack Williams and now Chuck Miller, and they were keeping their mouths shut, in pursuit of their own agendas.
Michael Branton got to the final point of the day.
"I think it’s time to get his picture out to the public, News, TV, everything. we should have done it last week."
Everyone quickly agreed, including those who had earlier opposed the idea. Branton responded,
"All right. We'll make that happen. We'll get a lot of calls, most of them bullshit. But let’s just hope someone sees him. If he's holed up in an apartment somewhere just coming out for the kills it probably won’t help. If he's in a hotel and goes out at all then there's a much better chance."
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I was on top of Natasha, in the missionary position. Finally, getting to thrust in hard and vigorously. Eagerly. Greedily. Savagely. There was nothing in my mind that was even remotely fucking serene or calm.
"Ohhh Fffuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkk uck uck uck !!"
Like a fucking thunderbolt exploding in your head and your groin. Oh man! I rolled off Natasha and lay at her side, dazed, almost incoherent. For all the flowery rhetoric about spiritual energy and serenity of mind tantric sex was basically just the practice of edging it for seven hours - or even longer. The Mahanirvana was right though about the ending. The resulting orgasm was almost intense enough to blow your fucking eyeballs out of your fucking skull and leave your groin, backbone and brainstem just buzzing and zinging for hours afterwards. Why would anyone ever want to do anything else, ever?
Natasha smiled at me sweetly and snuggled into me. It was different for the woman. She'd been orgasming all day long. She was radiant, bubbly, even a bit giggly. The sheets beneath us were drenched with sweat and other bodily fluids. It had been a good day. Every one's a winner.
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All the police officers and the spooks shuffled out of the conference room around 5:00 PM. None of them were happy. It had been a long day. They were tired. And it wasn’t over. They were all going back to their offices to plot and plan long into the night. All their people were on duty already, working day and night. It had been made clear from the highest level that catching Brian Samuals dead or alive, preferably dead, was their most urgent priority. They were all working 24/7 until it was done.
They knew a lot more now but none of them felt they were any closer to catching Samuals. They could only hope that Dr. Theresa Hill was right. The asshole was holed up in some shitty apartment somewhere feeling desperate and miserable, looking over his shoulder, paranoid and wretched, out of options, jerking off to reruns of the Nanny. Every resource they had was being redirected towards catching him and killing him. They all knew that the spooks would get some of the military satellites re-tasked and focused on the area if they hadn't already done so. There had been some whispers and rumors about a shipment of American Predator surveillance and combat drones arriving at the Williams Airforce Base in Laverton. OK. Whatever it took. None of them had a problem with that. Just kill the cunt, and things could go back to normal.
Chapter 14. Hide and Seek.
Jack Williams was the next on my list. I should have done him first. I hadn’t factored in the size of the manhunt or that he would be alerted by it, which was pretty fucking stupid, in hindsight. But the Ambassador and the Premier were accidents and as for the bank job, well, maybe I got a bit carried way. There would be much less interest in me if I'd just knocked off a few unknowns who nobody cared about. Anyway, I had to make the best of it. I've always liked a challenge. I'd already been checking Jack out on the internet. He'd done well for himself while I rotted in prison and after that as well. Detective Chief Inspector! Second in command of the Organized Crime Division! Acting Commander. I knew he was as crooked and corrupt as they come. His advance had been very swift, I wondered who he was really working for. Or who he was pretending to work for. Jack Williams only ever worked for Jack Williams when it came down to it. For him everyone else was just a means to an end. I was really going to fucking enjoy killing him. I was thinking I might go back to the axe for this one. Carve him up like a cow being slaughtered. Keep him alive for as long as possible. Savor his pain and his fear. At the right moment, the coup de grace into the side of the skull. Revenge is sweet, and the longer delayed it is the sweeter it gets. A bit like sex I suppose but far more captivating and infinitely more rewarding - in a different kind of way.
I'd had a great stroke of luck. I remembered a few of his aliases from our time together in the Fraud Squad. I was searching through property records at the Public Records Office when I came across one of the names that I knew, Frank Blain. I knew it was him. So called Frank Blain had purchased a house in Coburg, Holden Street. Now how did Jack ever get the money for that? The records showed that Jack Williams was still paying off a mortgage at his official home address in Preston. The house in Coburg must be a safe house. He must be running his real business from there. Probably drugs. He was perfectly placed in the Police Force to facilitate this. Whoever he was working for he'd be able to tip them off on investigations or coming raids. He'd be able to get drugs and weapons through the airports. Organize surveillance on rivals. Or even just send in the police to arrest their rivals. It also meant that as well as the cops protecting him he'd have his own thugs as well.
I drove out to Coburg early on Monday morning. Once again, I stole a car for the day using one of the electronic devices. Leave no links. However, I was not aware that my face was already plastered all over the morning TV news and websites. I was even getting international attention. I was world famous - but not in a good way. It felt odd now, not having a shotgun. But I did bring an axe - also useful against tailgaters and my weapon of choice for dispatching Jack Williams. I parked my stolen car half way down the street from the house and waited. I waited for half an hour just to see if anyone came in or out. There didn’t seem to be any activity from inside the house itself. I moved quickly from my car to the front door and then opened it using one of my lock picking tools. I moved around the house slowly and cautiously, checking each room. I didn’t want any surprises. But I finally
concluded no-one else was around. Good. Time to check the place out properly.
I found an office with a few papers and pictures scattered on the desk. Very sloppy of Jack, not up to his usual standards. Must have had to rush off. I found a memo about a meeting set for Tuesday 2:00 PM. Here in the house. Well I could always come back for that if today’s attempt didn’t work out. I kept shuffling through his papers, carefully checking the pictures. Imagine my surprise when I recognized the two Russian hit men who had been chasing me. They were individually labelled. Boris Ivanov and Vadim Smirnov. Always nice to put names to faces. There were a few notes. They both looked like stone-cold killers. Highly trained. Professional. Boris looked especially hard. The slightly smaller one, Vadim, had an odd flighty look to him that I found puzzling. They worked for someone called Dmitri Alexandrovistch. I knew that name somewhere. Ah, yes. One of the biggest mobsters in Russia. There was a picture of him with his son Constantine Alexandrovistch. Oh fuck! Constantine was the young man I'd killed in the Men's Club. That was just fucking great. Even more people hunting me. There was a picture of a woman as well, labelled Svetlana Araknilova. She was very striking. Dark, somber, compelling. She had an arrogant predatory gaze. Bizarrely sexual. I'd say she hated men though, she just had that look about her. No doubt she was another assassin. And after me as well. Yeah. I didn’t want to run into her. She reminded me of Mrs. Dawson. The same hatred and anger, the same thirst for power and dominance. Dawson's was more refined, Svetlana’s was raw and explosive. I could easily see Svetlana in Dawson's studded leather outfit. Every man's worst nightmare, a lesbian dominatrix with a strapon and a grudge - and a knife and a gun.
I took a step back from the desk. So, Jack was working with Russian gangsters. I was not surprised. I thought that I would just wait in the house for a while. See if he turned up. If not, I could always try again later. I took a seat in a chair by the window with a view of the front of the house. I drew my Uzi submachine gun from its holster and rested it on my lap. No one could get to the front door without me seeing them. There was a backdoor but it was locked. I had already checked that. If anyone came in from there I'd hear them easily. Only then did it occur to me that I'd forgotten to bring in the axe. Left it in the car. Fuck! I would have to just make do with what I had. I wasn’t going outside again. Rookie's mistake.
After about an hour a car pulled up in front. I drew back from the window a bit and dropped down so there was no chance they could see me. Two men got out. Neither of them was Jack Williams. I had to think fast. I could kill them easily enough. Hide the bodies. But Jack might be expecting them back, or expecting them to call him. He could get suspicious. Knowing about this place was a great asset. Catching him here was my best chance of success. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. I got up quickly, moved to the back door. I could open it from the inside and lock it behind me. I exited the house as quickly and as quietly as I could. I could hear them opening the front door just as I left through the back. Too risky to run around the side of the house. They might see me. I crossed the back lawn and climbed over the fence. I intended to circle around back to my car and just drive away.
Fuck me! A very large black and brown dog, a Doberman I think, was running at me, growling viciously. Fuck! I had seconds to respond. I'd re-holstered the Uzi. I could draw it but the sound of gunfire would be too easily heard back in the house. I grabbed for my knife, sliding it out of its scabbard on my side. As the dog jumped at me, instinctively aiming for my neck, I jabbed the knife upwards plunging it deeply into the dog's throat. I turned my weight so that the dog fell to the side, squealing and howling, kicking its feet around frantically. I couldn’t afford this noise either. I quickly withdrew the knife and stabbed it back into the dog’s neck and chest several times, killing it. What is it about fucking dogs? I saw a name on its collar. Fido. Well fucking Fido could have had a nice life. Nice house, warm bed, plenty of food. Maybe a kid or two who loved him. But no! Fucking Fido had to fuck with me. Well fuck you Fido. I jumped the next fence into the house next door and then made my way back to the car. I had blood on my hands and on the sleeves of my jacket. I cleaned it off as best I could, got into my car and drove off.
I went back to the hotel, ditching the car half a kilometer away and walking the rest. I took the lift to the ground level. I was being cautious. I knew that Boris and Vadim were most likely staying at one of the hotels here too. I knew their names now, but no point trying to check for them at reception they'd be here under fake names just as I was. I think I saw them before they saw me. They were on the second level probably just coming out of the Casino. They were only fifty meters away if they could fucking fly but it would take them a few minutes to go back to the stairway or the other lift. I saw them react. But this time instead of running for me they simply changed direction, heading for the stairs, pretending not to have seen me. I pretended not to have seen them and continued walking ahead - fortunately I was not far away from the lobby to the Metropol Hotel. There was another lift I could use if I kept going straight and then turned left about thirty meters ahead. As soon as they were out of line of sight I bolted.
When I made it to the lift I couldn’t see them anywhere. But they wouldn’t be far. I got into the lift and went up to my room on the seventh floor. Natasha was waiting for me. She'd been watching some movie on the TV but she was obviously bored. I decided not to mention how close Boris and Vadim were. There was no need to cause panic. She still thought she was the one being hunted. As soon as I got Jack Williams we'd be out of here. Not safe but safer than here. Somewhere quiet, where nobody would ever think to look for us. Neither of us felt like making out. The excesses of yesterday were still ringing in me, and her too I assumed. We needed some recovery time. That we'd do it again and then again after that was a certainty. But not right away. I sat down with her on the couch. We browsed through Netflix to find something we both liked. Then we settled in for a few hours of movie watching. Not as good as sex, but better than getting shot at.
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Boris and Vadim were in the Crown Complex, on the second-floor level, just coming out of the casino. They stiffened as they saw Brian Samuals. On the ground level, two levels down, just fifty meters away by line of sight but they'd have to go around to get down there. Boris whispered,
"Don’t react. Don’t let him know we've seen him."
Vadim acknowledged,
"OK."
They changed direction and started heading for the nearest stairway. As soon as they thought Brian couldn’t see them they broke into a sprint, running frantically towards the stairs, down them and out onto the lower level. Brian was nowhere in sight. Boris growled,
"Oh, fuck this."
He was getting awfully fucking tired of hunting down Brian Samuals with so little to go on. Vadim made the observation,
"You're right though. He must be in one of the hotels here. I wonder if the girl is with him."
Boris snarled back,
"I don’t care about the fucking girl. I want Brian Samuals. Now. Dead at my fucking feet."
There was someone else down the other end of the corridor. Boris exclaimed,
"Oh Fuck."
It was Svetlana Araknilova and she'd just seen them. They bolted in the other direction. They ran outside onto the riverbank promenade, around into Spencer street. Then into the hotel lobby and up the lift to their suite.
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Svetlana Araknilova had gone for a walk. She knew she had no chance of finding Brian Samuals or even Boris and Vadim with the resources and connections she had, which was basically fuck all. Jack Williams had told her he could get Boris and Vadim to agree to a meeting with her. He was in contact with them. But she knew there was no chance of that. They weren’t fucking morons. Well Vadim was, in a way, but even he wasn’t that suicidal. She'd been talking to Dmitri Alexandrovistch. He had promised to get her some more intel. Until then she just had to wa
it. She'd just arrived back from a pleasant walk up and down the riverbank, and come inside onto the ground level. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Boris and Vadim down the other end of the walk-way. They looked like they were hunting someone. They saw her and bolted. She ran down the corridor after them, ignoring curious glances from others around her. By the time she got there they were nowhere to be seen. She didn’t keep looking. It was a big complex. They could be anywhere.
She didn't believe in coincidences. The two of them must be staying in one of the hotels here. And who had they been chasing? Must be Brian Samuals, who else. She called Alexander Mendeleev. When he answered she spoke crisply,
"I think they might be staying at one of the Crown Hotels."
Mendeleev replied,
"Who? Boris and Vadim or Brian Samuals?"
Svetlana snapped back,
"Possibly all three of them. Get over here with all your men. Spread out over the complex. There are three hotels, shopping plazas, a three-level casino, restaurants. Just spread out. Look for them."
Mendeleev replied,
"OK. How do we respond when we see them? It’s very public."
Svetlana almost screamed at him, very unusual for her, she was so sick of it all.
"Just fucking kill them on sight. Any of them. I don’t care how fucking public it is. Any man that doesn’t will be dealing with me, personally"
Mendeleev shuddered. He'd rather deal with a SWAT team than an angry Svetlana. After their discussion in the Carlton pub the other night and the horror stories he'd told them about her, he hoped for their sake that all of his men felt the same way. He replied quickly,
101 People to Kill Before I Die Page 16
