"OK. We're on our way."
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Chuck Miller had gone back down to Melbourne. The Victoria Police had given him a temporary office in the Russel Street complex. He had his laptop open and had a secure connection back to CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He was looking at some satellite imagery and talking to one of the analysts. The analyst, Jenny Britman, was saying,
"We've got a hit Sir."
Chuck Miller was impatient.
"Yes, what?"
Jenny was used to him. They'd worked together before. She knew not be drawn into the whirlpool of emotion that was Chuck Miller, just outline the facts.
"The car left outside the Dawson residence in Prahran on Saturday night. We were able to backtrack it. I've marked the path in the image you're looking at now."
Chuck Miller was getting excited.
"Ah. I see. Where does it initiate from?"
Jenny replied,
"From Powers Street in South Melbourne. It was stolen. But the car used in the Tony Jensen killing, and the road rage attack on the way back was stolen from the same area. Just around the corner. On Thursday. A bit careless of Samuals to use the same area twice. He could be in one of the houses near there, holed up. But our behavioral analysts think it’s more likely he’ll be in a hotel. Something big. The nearest major hotels are in the Crown Complex in downtown Melbourne. Southbank. There are three of them in the complex. We suspect he's staying at one of them. I've sent the schematics of the whole place in the second set of files."
Chuck Miller was delighted.
"Excellent. I assume you're checking all of the registered guests?"
Jenny shot back,
"Yes Sir. So far nothing. He'll have used a fake ID and credit card. We're double checking everything. We'll get it though. For sure. A few more hours."
Chuck Miller replied,
"Excellent. Good job." Then he added, “What about the Goodman hit on the Monday? And before that? Don’t suppose you can check any cars arriving at the hotel from Sydney the previous week?”
He knew the answer. If there was anything there, Jenny would have said so already. Jenny replied,
“No Sir, sorry Sir. Full satellite coverage only kicked in on Wednesday. They did find Samual’s car in North Melbourne the week before that - but he could have gone anywhere from there. We’re checking car rentals from around the area, cross checking against hotel arrivals. Nothing on that one yet. He could have just walked. But we’ll narrow that search to the Crown Hotels also. It still comes down to checking all the IDs and finding the fake one.”
Chuck Miller listened carefully.
“OK, good. You’re on the right track. Let me know the instant you’ve got something.”
Jenny replied,
“Yes Sir.”
Chuck closed the connections. He was thinking that this might all work out after all. No need to talk to the locals just yet. He put in a call to the commander of his operations squads.
"Colonel Saint."
The colonel replied promptly,
"Yes Sir."
Chuck Miller was pleased with himself.
"We have a probable location. Crown Complex. One of the hotels. I'm forwarding you all the details. We may get more precise in the next few hours. Move in with all your men. Spread out over the complex. Kill on sight. And I don’t care too much about collateral. Don’t get caught though. That would be slightly awkward."
The Colonel snapped back,
"Yes Sir."
Chuck Miller would have preferred to take Brian Samuals alive, take him back to one of their black sites. A little extraordinary rendition, some enhanced interrogation as it was so euphemistically called. Some waterboarding. Ah those were the days. But he would have to be content with just killing him. Too many people in the Complex. Too hard to capture him and spirit him away. His own career and reputation were at stake. Pity he hadn’t had a chance to use his Predator Drones after all the trouble he'd gone through to get them here. But Brian's bullet ridden corpse laid out on a slab in the morgue would have to be enough. You can’t always get everything you want.
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Huan Cheng had just finished a four-year degree in Commerce at the University of Melbourne. He was only twenty-two years old. He was the son of Mr. Cheng the head of the Monkey King Triad, one of Hong Kong's most powerful and most feared criminal syndicates. Huan was going back to Hong Kong to take up his role in the family business. He'd worked hard and achieved good results. Although the university courses and final exams ended in November, his father had allowed him an extra month in Melbourne to take some time off and relax after all his efforts.
On this fine Monday evening, he'd gone with two friends to the Crown Casino. They left early. Just before 7:00 PM. They went to the EasyEats Bistro first and then on to one of the many bars for a few drinks. Then they went into the Casino itself. Huan Cheng fancied himself to be something of an expert at Texas Holdem Poker. His friends Feng and Mei also thought they were good at it. None of them were. They lost consistently but were able to selectively remember just the few times that they came out ahead. Huan Cheng always had a body guard at his side. This one, Bo Chang, had been with him for over a year. He was armed but hadn’t had the need to draw his weapon any time over the last year. Australia was such a safe and non-violent country, recent events notwithstanding. He was totally unprepared for what was about to go down.
Chapter 15. Casino Royale.
At around 8:00 PM on Monday night Brian went for a walk, outside the hotel, along the river bank. He just felt like it, even though he knew it was foolish. Natasha didn’t seem to mind staying cooped up in the hotel room. She was still scared of the Russian gangsters. Brian had assured her that they would get out of Melbourne in a couple of days. He just had one more job to do in Melbourne. It was nice outside. Still warm after a hot day but cooling down. Just starting to get dark. He looked out over the Melbourne skyline. So many buildings, so many people, he wondered vaguely what they were all doing. He hadn’t yet grasped just how many of them were devoting their every waking moment to the task of finding him and killing him. He saw a couple of people take a second look at him and then dart off. He didn’t think that looked too auspicious. He didn’t know yet that he was all over the news. He and Natasha hadn’t been watching any of it.
Svetlana had been eating alone in the Bistro Restaurant on the upper second level. She'd had a glass of wine. She felt that finally she was making some progress, despite not being able to find Charlie Samuals. Mendeleev and his men were spread throughout the complex. She had a feeling they would locate Boris and Vadim, maybe even Brian Samuals. She was tired of it all already. Usually she was in and out. The victim dispatched with whatever level of viciousness she felt like at the time. Done. Over. She was not equipped for this kind of extended pursuit. It bored her. She didn’t care who killed them now. Just so long as it was done. She'd decided to get a couple of girls up to her hotel room. Have some fun. She went down to the lower level and made her way to the hotel lobby. She crossed it and entered the lift. Others started getting in. She had her head down, thinking about the pleasures to come.
Boris and Vadim had been gambling in the Casino, on the upper level. They'd lost a few thousand dollars playing Texas Holdem Poker and then Roulette. They were feeling down. Their only lead was Brian's uncle and they'd had no luck catching him. They had no connections, no intel. Fuck all. They had no idea how to proceed. They could just cut and run. They had money. But they were both determined to kill the dickhead who had caused all their problems. They weren’t paying much attention to their surroundings. Boris was just going to have a few more drinks in their room. Vadim wanted to watch some more porn. Heads down, miserable, they walked across the hotel lobby and into the lift. It was almost full. At least nine people already there, crowded together.
Brian walked through the lower level of the Casino on his w
ay back to the hotel lobby. He was spotted by one of Mendeleev’s men, who hastily doubled checked the photo he was carrying and then barked into his phone. Small groups of Russian thugs started heading towards the hotel lobby, mostly through the Casino. It was fairly crowded for a Monday night. Christmas was approaching and everyone was getting into the festive mood. The gunmen pushed their way through the crowd when and as they needed to. A few civilians were elbowed in the head and knocked to the ground. A security guard confronted the Russians. One of them pulled out a gun and shot him in the head. Panic started to spread.
As Brian went through the hotel lobby towards the lift he was also seen by one of Chuck Miller's agents. The agent spoke into his radio mic,
"Target acquired. East entrance. Metropol lobby. Heading towards the lifts."
There was an open channel to others in the team and to Chuck Miller. The other agents began moving in his direction, pushing their way through the crowds. Miller shot back,
"Well fucking kill him. Don’t waste time talking about it."
The agent replied,
"The lobby is crowded. A lot of collateral. Our egress afterwards will be difficult."
Miller screamed back at him,
"I don’t fucking care. Kill him."
When the agent looked back at Brian he was just disappearing into the lift. The door was closing. He saw several of his own men arriving. He also saw groups of Russians rushing into the lobby from different directions some of them with guns drawn. What the fuck! He drew his own weapon.
Brian was the last one into the lift. The lift door closed behind him. Boris looked up. His eyes went wide. Fuck! Brian fucking Samuals, standing there right in front of him. For a few brief moments Boris stared at Brian in disbelief. Vadim had looked up and was also staring at Brian. Brian saw the two men glaring at him, Boris and Vadim. Oh fuck! Svetlana picked up on the energy and looked up. Samuals! Boris and Vadim! Fuck! Boris and Vadim saw her. Svetlana! Fuck! Brian saw Svetlana also glaring at him savagely. The woman in the picture. Svetlana! Fuck! They all grabbed for their weapons, drawing them as fast as humanly possible. The eight other occupants of the lift were beginning to react in shock and dismay. The lift door slammed shut.
A gunfight had erupted in the hotel lobby. Miller's CIA agents and Mendeleev’s gunmen were firing at each other, ducking for cover, firing again. The CIA agents were for the moment outnumbered. Two of them had already been shot and killed, and two of the Russian gunmen were dead also. The agents were trying to withdraw, calling for backup. They had no clear idea of who was shooting at them or why. They started moving back towards the outside entrances. All the non-combatants in the lobby were running for cover, whatever they could find, screaming, desperate to get out. The concierge behind the desk was a young man, new on the job. The blood had drained from his face. He was terrified. He crouched down behind the desk, shaking. But he did manage to grab for the phone and call the emergency line. He screamed out,
"There's shooting in the lobby, fucking guns everywhere."
The lift door opened briefly at the third floor. There was a blur of activity from inside. Everyone pushing and shoving. Screaming. Flashes of gunfire. Two bodies fell out or were pushed out. Dead. Knife wounds and gunshot wounds to the head. The doors slammed shut again.
It opened again on the seventh floor. The same blur of activity. Screaming. Pandemonium. Flashes of gun fire. This time Brian stumbled out. He managed to fire a couple of shots in as he fell to the ground. The doors slammed shut. He picked himself up and raced down the corridor. He had to get Natasha. They had to get out of the hotel, right now.
The lift opened on the ninth floor. More flashes of gunfire. Boris and Vadim tumbled out. They'd lost their firearms. Vadim at least still held a knife. Svetlana was taking aim at them. But there were still four others in the lift. One of them grabbed at her. The lift door shut. Boris and Vadim raced for the stairs. Definitely, time to leave. The faster the better.
The lift stopped on the eleventh floor. Svetlana was the only one left standing. As she stepped over the bodies, one of them, a middle-aged man, cried out,
"Help me, help me, please"
Svetlana snarled at him. She was in a foul mood.
"Shut the fuck up, pissant."
Then she shot him in the head, twice. Someone else stirred as she stepped over more bodies, a woman. She shot her too. She stepped out of the lift. Frustrated, angry. How could they have gotten away. Fuck! She knew she had to get out of the hotel. Immediately.
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Assistant Commissioner Michael Branton was sitting at his desk in his office at Police Headquarters in Spencer Street. The HQ was only seven city blocks from the Crown Complex – just slightly more than one kilometer. One of his officers, Inspector Bateson, ran into the room, excited. He blurted out,
"We have several sightings of Brian Samuals, outside the Crown Casino on Yarra Promenade and one from inside the casino."
Before Branton could respond the phone rang. He picked it up. It was operations. They told him,
"We have shots fired at Crown Centre, multiple offenders. From the Casino and the Metropol lobby. We're dispatching all units. All available Special Operations squads."
He didn’t bother telling them about the sightings. They'd know that already. He slammed the phone down, cried out,
"It's him. Let's get the fucker."
He jumped up and raced out of the room. The inspector followed. Branton wanted to get to the scene. Take control. It was a huge area they had to cover - four city blocks. A lot of exits. He knew there was already a plan in place. But he wasn’t sure how good it was going to be.
He got to one of the squad-cars in the basement, along with a young constable who would be doing the driving. They moved out the car park as quickly as humanly possible. They weren’t the only ones. Branton put in a call to David Morton - the SOG Commander.
"Dave, where are you?"
David Morton snapped back,
"Suited up, and on route. ETA five minutes. We've got five teams going in - one as backup."
Branton replied,
"Good." He paused. "You know we're getting a lot of pressure from above on this case. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he wasn’t taken alive. But of course, I can’t tell you to do that."
David Morton responded calmly,
"Of course. And I didn’t hear you say it."
They finally got out onto Spencer Street. Police on foot were already clearing and blocking off the Street to other traffic - attempting to provide a path for all the squad cars and emergency response vehicles. Soon they were tearing down Spencer Street, sirens screaming. They would be there in minutes.
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I raced into our suite on the seventh floor. I screamed out,
"Natasha honey, we need to go, now."
She looked up, started to get up from the sofa, she could see my urgency. She asked,
"What's the problem?"
I raced into the other room to retrieve my large bag - I still had tools in there, the automatic rifle, ammunition, the spare Glock, IDs, cash. I didn’t want to lose any of it. I called back to her,
"I'll explain later. We have to go."
She got dressed quickly, back into the jeans and top she'd been wearing when we got here. She'd been in just panties or less for the whole week and a half.
We slammed the door behind us and headed towards the stairs at the east end of the corridor. Boris and Vadim came out onto the corridor from the west-end stairwell. They saw us. Natasha screamed. I drew my Glock and fired a couple of shots at them. They ducked back into the staircase. I'm not sure why they didn’t return fire. But we had bigger problems. This place was going to be flooded with cops any minute, if it wasn’t already. We had to get out. I had a plan and had made some preparations. It should work. But I was about to find out. We turned around and started running down the stairs. I called
out to Natasha,
"We have to get down to the second level. They'll disable the lifts any second now."
We continued running.
The emergency evacuation sequence kicked in. A loud screaming screeching sound going off at intervals, and a voice intoning urgently,
"Emergency, evacuate now. Emergency, evacuate now. Emergency, evacuate now. "
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Boris and Vadim came back out onto the corridor carefully. They couldn’t see Brian or Natasha anywhere. They had no weapons. They needed to get back to their room. They could hear the emergency evacuation warnings blaring. They knew they had to get out any way they could. If they came across Brian again on the way, all the better. They raced into their suite half-way down the corridor. They quickly loaded themselves up with some more weapons. They also had Glocks. They checked the ammunition. They'd fought their way out of tighter spots than this. The key to success was avoidance and failing that maximum aggression.
They ran out of their room and down the corridor towards the western stairwell. They knew better than to try to use the lift. The local cops would be swarming into the place by now, far too many for them to handle. They decided to go down the stairs, have a look. See what they were confronting. Devise a plan after that. They looked at each other. Smiled knowingly, sadly. It didn’t look good.
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Several Police Boats and had taken up positions on the Yarra River immediately to the north of the Casino Complex. Two Police choppers had arrived on scene already and were flying overhead. More were on the way. Dozens of squad cars were arriving at places around the complex and taking up position in an attempt to block all exits. Hundreds more were following and would be there shortly. David Morton had received info on the gun fight in the Metropol lobby. He'd organized his squads and they were about to attack. There were fifty men in total. They were heavily armed - Koch MP5 machine guns, Kevlar body armor, tactical helmets. They were ready to roll. Michael Branton was just arriving on scene when he got a frantic call from Chuck Miller. Chuck screeched at him,
101 People to Kill Before I Die Page 17
