The Renegade Spy

by Mark O'Neill

  When intimidation didn’t work, they reluctantly pointed to the back seat of the car. When he got in, a canvas bag was suddenly thrust over his head, and a gun painfully jabbed in his ribs. This really wasn’t a whole lot better than the boot. But at least his hands were free, and he could disarm the fool sitting next to him in less than five seconds, before the ones in front knew what had hit them. He filed that away for future reference if he felt the situation was about to go sideways.

  The Scorpion tried to memorise the route, but it very quickly became evident they were making a huge effort to disorient him. So he eventually gave up, and after roughly forty minutes, the car finally arrived at its destination. He was bundled out roughly and pushed through an open door.

  Once inside, the Scorpion felt himself being expertly searched, and his gun was taken. It wasn’t long before his backup weapon was found in its ankle holster, and taken too. Satisfied he was now unarmed, they pushed him along a narrow featureless corridor until he reached another room and the bag was finally pulled off his head. He suddenly felt very disoriented. Fresh air rushed to his face, and the light from the room hit his eyes like a full-frontal assault.

  Then he heard soft chuckling in the corner. He turned and saw a man sitting in a leather chair examining him closely. He had a well-trimmed goatee beard, and slicked-back dark hair. He was also dressed in a very expensive grey suit. His dark soulless eyes reminded the Scorpion of a wolf, for some reason. But he had seen all types in his line of work, so it didn't bother him in the slightest.

  "You’re quite all right Mr Scorpion" said the man watching him, "just breathe and you’ll be back to your old self in no time. Being a professional yourself, I'm sure you appreciate our need for strict security".

  The rough treatment angered Scorpion enormously. "I don’t particularly like being thrown around like a piece of meat in an abattoir. To me, that implies enormous disrespect. Not exactly the way to start a business relationship, is it?".

  There was a pause, then a nod. "Fair point. I apologise if my men got a little too...enthusiastic. But you are a very tough man. I’m sure you can handle a bit of pushing and shoving".

  "You can start making it up to me by giving me my damn guns back" said the Scorpion looking at him intensely, "they were taken from me before I was pushed in here".

  Grey Suit looked at the Scorpion curiously for a moment, tilting his head in thought, as if wondering why the Scorpion would make such a big deal over guns. Finally, he sighed and picked up a phone, dialling an internal number.

  "Bring his guns" was all he said, when the line was answered.

  He hung up without breaking eye contact.

  "Your guns will be brought in in a moment, but they will remain with me until you leave. We wouldn’t want you getting any ideas about shooting me if we happen to disagree on anything else. Do you have any other grievances Mr Scorpion, before we continue?"

  "Let me make this clear so even you can understand this" said Scorpion, calmly, "if anyone puts their hands on me again, I’ll break their goddamn necks. Then I’ll calmly walk out of here and you can find someone else to do your dirty work".

  Grey Suit gave a small tight smile. "A man with courage - and attitude. I appreciate that, because if this task which I want to give you goes wrong, you are going to need all the courage you possess to survive - from the authorities and from us".

  "Assuming I accept - which I haven’t yet. You assume too much. Tell me who the target is and I’ll tell you if I’m interested".

  Before Grey Suit could reply, the door opened and another beefy muscular man came in, with the Scorpion’s guns. The room was quiet while the guns were placed on a table next to Grey Suit, and the room was left to the two of them again. But not before the hired muscle gave the Scorpion a double-take that made him slightly uncomfortable. Almost as if he knew him.

  Something else to file away for possible future reference.

  It was another minute before Grey Suit decided to tell the Scorpion the target. He tapped his fingers on the armrests of his chair, and looked at Scorpion intensely.

  "I want you to kill Claudia Meyer" he said finally.

  "You want me to kill the German chancellor?" said Scorpion, incredulously. "I think you need to lie down then take a long holiday".

  "Why? Is it a problem? Does it scare you?" said the man, tauntingly.

  "Not impossible. Just extremely difficult" Scorpion replied, ignoring the crass attempt to get a rise out of him. "She hardly pops out to the supermarket in her lunch break. Getting past her bodyguards and getting close to her is going to be a challenge".

  "Don’t people like you thrive on challenges?!" laughed Grey Suit.

  "Challenges, yes. Suicide missions, not so much. What's the point of earning money if you're not alive to enjoy it?".

  "I'm sure a man of your capabilities would be able to find a way around her security" replied Grey Suit, dismissively.

  "You do understand the consequences of asking me to do something like this, don't you?" said the Scorpion. "If she gets assassinated or even just gets a tiny bruise, the full weight of the German state is going to come down on both you and I. And if you think they won't eventually figure out who was behind it, then you really are naive".

  "I think you give the government far too much credit".

  "I think you don't give them enough"

  Grey Suit smirked at this remark. "So...assuming you were to accept this...'challenge'...how much would you charge?".

  The Scorpion decided to humour the idiot. "For something like this, once it’s done, I would need to disappear forever. There’s also the risk factor..."

  "A number Scorpion" said Grey Suit irritably, "not a laundry list of excuses".

  The Scorpion struggled to remain calm. "I was about to say, before you rudely interrupted me, 20 million Euros in Bitcoin - and expenses. Let’s say 50,000 Euros for expenses. Half of the fee and the full expenses now, the other half of the fee on completion. You and I will never meet again. When I leave here and get my first 50%, you cannot contact me ever again, and the job cannot be cancelled. The other 50% will be held in escrow, to be released when news of Meyer’s death is confirmed".

  "That sounds fair. But I don’t like that we cannot contact you again. We have information sources that can help you. I would need to know how to get in touch".

  "I just told you. You can’t. And I have my own information sources".

  "Unacceptable. A contact number."

  “No” said the Scorpion, firmly, “I think we’re done here”.

  Grey Suit looked at him in astonishment. “You would throw away 20 million Euros over a phone number?”.

  The Scorpion looked at Grey Suit. “Do you know why I am alive? Because I am careful. I wear disguises, I make sure there are no photos of me, no fingerprints. You may have noticed the leather gloves I am wearing right now. But you want me to carry what is essentially a tracking device in my pocket? And you wonder why I am making a big deal about it?”

  Grey Suit glared at him for a moment. He wasn’t used to being talked to like this. He was more used to obedience and submission.

  “Fine” he snapped. “Have it your way. But let me make something clear to you. If you disappear with your first ten million Euros without doing the job, we will eventually find you. And when we do, you will be begging us for mercy.

  Others have tried to cheat me, and they have paid with their lives. Money doesn’t matter to me, but being cheated does".

  In reply, the Scorpion simulated a lengthy yawn, stood and walked over slowly to Grey Suit. He leaned over and stared into Grey Suit's eyes.

  "And the same applies to you, my friend" he said softly, "cheat me out of the rest of my money, or betray me to the police, and I will spend the rest of my days hunting you down. Others have underestimated me and have paid with their lives too".

  His hand suddenly shot down and Grey Suit momentarily flinched. When he looked to his left, he saw that the Scorpion had merely s
natched up his guns.

  "I’ll give my Bitcoin account details and the phone number to your goons outside" said the Scorpion, enjoying Grey Suit's sudden discomfort. "Then they can drive me back to my car. We’re done here".

  As he left the room, Grey Suit burned with humiliation at showing weakness. He picked up an heavy cut crystal glass sitting on a small side table and threw it savagely against the wall. It shattered into tiny little pieces, the dregs of the alcohol rolling down the wall.

  "It’s me".

  "Why are you calling now? Your call-in time is not until tomorrow".

  "I can't stay on the line for long. I'll be missed, but you need to know this now. The Scorpion just turned up at the club".

  "The assassin?"

  "No, the bloody animal. Of course, the assassin".

  "What the hell did he want?"

  "He was summoned by the boss. He was given a job. I had to bring the man’s guns back into the room, and I listened through the door when they thought I was gone. The hit is on the Chancellor".

  "The Chancellor? Are you sure?".

  Suddenly there were two loud gunshots in the distance. The man on the phone swore.

  "Are you there? What just happened?".

  “Wait”.

  There was silence for a moment. Then a muffled voice in the background.

  * * *

  “Put the phone down” said the Scorpion.

  The pimp from the club had his hands up and spread wide. The phone was in one hand, still connected to the person at the other end. He stared at the ugly menacing black pistol in the Scorpion’s hand.

  “I said put it down” repeated the Scorpion, calmly.

  The pimp dropped it. “I assume those two shots means my colleagues are dead?”

  “Somehow I get the feeling they were not really your colleagues. What are you? Police? Government? I saw the way you looked at me in the club”.

  “You’re not getting a damn thing out of me. You may as well shoot me now”.

  The Scorpion made a show of thinking about it. Then “OK sure”.

  He fired and the bullet hit the pimp directly between the eyes. The head was jerked back and he crumpled to the ground. The Scorpion walked up to him and calmly put another bullet in the heart to be sure.

  The Scorpion picked up the dropped phone.

  “Who is this?".

  The other man, who had heard the gunshots and knew his man was dead, didn’t dare reply.

  "If I had to guess" said the Scorpion, "I'm probably talking to the government. Don't bother tracing this call. I'll be long gone before anyone can get here. I just wanted to say hi and to let you know your man is dead. If he’s married, please pass on my condolences to the widow".

  “You’ll never get to Meyer”

  “Well then I guess you have nothing to worry about then, do you?”

  "You're dead".

  The Scorpion laughed. "You have to catch me first".

  He hung up, dropped the phone again, and slammed his foot into it, breaking the screen.

  The Scorpion quickly took one last look at the man he had shot in the back of the head. He was certain the man who had brought his guns back had recognised him, and he was right. His gut had never failed him once. When he had been back in the car, the man was sitting in the front seat, looking at him in the rear view mirror. That was when he knew for sure he really had a problem. He knew he had to be taken out.

  So when the car had stopped, the man pleaded the call of nature and skipped behind a wall. Without hesitating, the Scorpion had shot dead the other two men in the car, and then went to deal with the other one.

  He wasn’t that concerned about the reaction of Grey Suit. He could just add it to the fee. But now the person at the other end of the line knew the Chancellor was a target. Her security would be increased.

  He knew it had been stupid to talk on the line. Now they probably had an audio recording of his voice. To the best of his knowledge, there were no reliable photos of him that the authorities could use, but talking on an open line was just stupid. He knew better than that. But he couldn't resist taunting them.

  Only thirty minutes in, and already the mission was blown.

  He should have asked for more money.

  Chapter Three

  Decker was in her office throwing some personal belongings into a box when the Deputy Director, Klaus Wagner, came in. He was middle-aged, with hair rapidly turning white, and a permanently cynical look on his face. As if life had thrown everything at him, and it was no longer possible to shock him.

  "Where are you off to at this time of the morning?" said Wagner, suspiciously. "Did we start flexible working hours and Human Resources didn’t bother to inform me about it?"

  "Nope. My esteemed Section Chief has suspended me, and will most likely have me fired" said Decker, "he's obviously a big believer in the phrase 'the pen is mightier than the sword'".

  "Ignore the bloody weasel" scowled Wagner, "I'll overrule the decision. I swear that man will be the death of me someday. You were doing your job, nothing more, nothing less. The last I checked, we didn't punish anyone for that. Besides, I have selfish motives as I need you for something urgent. Come with me".

  Decker grinned, dumped her box unceremoniously on the table, and followed Wagner out of the room. She always liked him. Even though he was the Deputy Director, he too secretly disdained the rules that governed the intelligence community. He was a big believer in "taking the gloves off". So he and Decker were two of a kind. They both eschewed suits and professional clothes in favour of jeans, shirts, and leather jackets. Wagner’s bad language was also legendary. He was famous for verbally causing grown men to cry openly.

  She followed him down a corridor into the Executive Suite area, and was led into Wagner's large, well appointed office.

  "Take a seat" he said, pointing to a chair “help yourself to coffee”.

  Decker sat down and put her feet up on another chair beside her. Wagner observed this without comment, and shrugging, locked his door and sat down behind his desk.

  "What do you know about the Scorpion?" said Wagner, leaning back in his chair.

  "Eight legs, long tail, stings like hell. Don’t go near one" she said, pouring cream into her coffee.

  Wagner rolled his eyes. "I should have seen that coming. Don’t give up the day job Captain. I meant the person".

  "Never heard of him. Have I shot him and he's now filing a complaint?".

  "I wish you had shot him, as you would have managed to help us fix a very big incoming mess. The Scorpion is the nickname for a professional assassin. Very talented, very relentless, very expensive. He has done an excellent job of staying hidden his entire professional life. So much so, we don’t have a reliable photo of him. We have been investigating him for years, with the file never being closed. There are multiple unsolved professional hits, which we think he did, but we can’t prove it".

  "What makes you suspect he did them?" asked Decker.

  "For one thing, he uses the same weapon each time, which is unbelievably sloppy in this day and age of forensics. He may as well leave his business card next to each body. Plus he always takes head shots. But over the years, one of the whispers we have heard about him is that he is extremely superstitious. He thinks changing a routine will result in failure".

  "He can’t be that dangerous if he scares easily" observed Decker.

  "Oh yes? Try telling Vladimir Rostov that" said Wagner throwing over a file containing photographs. They were of Rostov’s corpse and those of his men.

  "Someone unlucky enough to run into the Scorpion?" said Decker, examining the photos.

  "We strongly suspect so, based on the ballistics, but again, we can’t prove anything. Last week, Rostov and his men were gunned down outside one of the brothels Rostov owns. They never stood a chance. Like rats in a barrel. I’m sure you saw it on the news?”

  "I don’t watch the news” said Decker, dropping the photos back onto the table, “do we have
any idea where this Scorpion is right now?"

  "Not right this very second, but we know where he was three nights ago. He was taken to a house outside the city, where he met with Gabriel Schäfer, one of the top organised crime bosses in Europe".

  "Your intelligence is remarkably good" remarked Decker.

  She suddenly noticed Wagner had become much more uncomfortable and was now shifting about in his chair.

  "Was, past tense" replied Wagner distantly, "we had a high-level undercover asset inside Schäfer’s organisation for years. Our asset was there the other night when the Scorpion had his little heart-to-heart with Schäfer. Our intelligence indicates it was Schäfer who ordered the hit on Rostov, although the Scorpion most likely doesn’t know that. Schäfer probably used someone else as a go-between".

  "Taking out the competition" observed Decker, "that’s one way to mount an aggressive takeover. So this 'high-level asset' took it upon himself to not call it in, so this Scorpion could be arrested?"

  "He did eventually call it in at great personal cost to himself, when he discovered what the conversation was about. Besides, up until the last moment, he wasn’t completely sure it was the Scorpion at all”.

  “It must have been a very good conversation to make a decision like that. So what was Schäfer and Scorpion’s little heart-to-heart about?"

  Wagner rubbed his face with his hand. "The assassination of the chancellor" he said finally.

  Decker stared at Wagner in stunned silence.

  "Schäfer wants the chancellor killed?" she said incredulously, "why?".

  "We haven’t got a definite answer to that yet. Our working hypothesis is that it's due to her recent law and order crusade. As you probably know, she has been putting a lot of pressure on the EU to crack down on money laundering and sex slavery. Two areas which Schäfer depends on to make his money and hide it. Plus don't forget Meyer’s insistence to the Swiss banks that they reveal their German customers to us. Our financial forensic investigators believe a large amount of unaccounted for money that was hidden in Zurich belonged to Schäfer".