Page 27 of Triple Threat

“Dark mostly, no one has noticed the missing guard. There is some action down at the guardhouse. Looks like a call girl brought them some pizza, or the pizza delivery girl was coerced into hands-on customer service.”

“They’ll be occupied for a while, but not all that useful to me,” I said.

“One of the marks is in the guard shack,” Roan said.

“Good to know. I can take him out when I’m leaving,” I said.

“Just as long as you kill himafterthe date.” He laughed.

I took the stairs, staying pressed to the wall side of the stairwell. The office door was open and there were several people inside talking a mix of French and English, a few words of Spanish. Three people, two men, one woman. The woman was younger, and she was the one mixing Spanish into her English. Her accent had a musical quality to it. She couldn’t be Death Squad, none of them were women. A phone rang, one of the men answered it, speaking in French. I caught the short version, complaints about a hooker in the guard shack and one of the guards missing. Then something about shit, and bathrooms. I ghosted into the room, drawing the Beretta as the man put the phone down on the desk. He looked up at me, surprise on his face. He should be surprised. Black jacket, black mask, and drawn black pistol.

POP! POP!

He crumpled as the two shots removed the back of his head and the side of his neck, painting the austere white drapes behind him in gore. I pivoted, bringing the gun to bear on the second man. He wasn’t one of the Squad marks, but his green tactical vest and the pistol on his hip told me he was security.

POP! POP!

He grunted and collapsed sideways, while his lung collapsed and blood filled his torso. He reached for his pistol; eyes wide with the whites showing.

POP!

His head jerked back and blood sprayed the couch and floor. The woman covered a scream, blood flecked her face and hair. I put a finger to my lips, and whispered, “Hush.” She nodded vigorously, hand still over her mouth. I went back to the door and heard the soft sound of metal on fabric, the sound of a weapon being drawn. I turned to face the woman again and saw she had a snub-nosed revolver half drawn and was rising from her seated position.

I put the sights between her breasts while she was still drawing and she froze. I hated shooting women; it always left a sour taste in my mouth.

POP! POP!

She heaved back into the seat and then slumped forward. Her white blouse stained red.

I stepped out into the hallway; the element of surprise was done. The old man who had been on the phone was mark one, the leader of the Death Squad, Phillipe le Clerc d’Chauvignon. Ole le Clerc had opposedle Generalefor being too young and not having the same amount of military experience. He was dead now.

Two men came out of the doors of their rooms, one dressed, one in just underwear.

POP! POP! POP!

They were down.

I backpedaled into the room the almost-naked man came out of just as the general alarm was sounded. “Trigger the fire alarm,” I said. A moment later, a loud ringing filled the building when Roan activated the system. I heard a creak and groan and then the water sprinklers kicked on. There was shouting, chaos. Several men went down the hall, and I heard one shouting orders to the others in French. He shouted Phillipe’s name. I stepped into the hallway and saw my second mark and one of his bodyguards. The man was drawing his weapon while the second mark started to take a position behind him.

POP! POP!

The bodyguard went down as I advanced. I saw the man as he tried to escape back into his room. Tan face, curly black hair, Enrico, the Spaniard. He tried to slam the door in my face but I got a boot in the way before the latch could grab. I threw my shoulder into the door, and he did the same, bracing against it to keep me out.

“Fuck you, you are a dead man,” Enrico said. “However much they’re paying, I’ll double it.” I put the muzzle of the Beretta against the door.

POP! POP! POP!Click!

The resistance on the door crumpled and Enrico hit the floor, soon to be a corpse. I shoved the door open and looked at him; one round in the shoulder, two in the chest. He was breathing rapidly, and he already had blood seeping out of his mouth. I drew the Colt from my hip and put a round between his eyes. His head exploded like a melon and the sound of the hand cannon going off made my ears ring.Two down.I took Enrico’s gold plated 1911 as a trophy.

I stepped back into the hallway and reloaded the Beretta while stalking. There was a good deal of shouting and screaming from the room at the end of the corridor. “End of the corridor, east end, second floor,” I said.

“Kitchen facilities, water and gas lines, open space,” Roan said. “Fire department has replied to the center. I have them delayed, intercepted the call, told them it was a false alarm. Police have not been notified.”

“Good to know,” I said. I kicked the double door open and there were four women in the room. They all looked like housekeeping, or something along those lines. I waved the pistol in a circular motion. They raised their hands, shaking and some crying, and they took to their knees. I pulled the door shut and jammed it with a broom. They would be able to escape, but it would take them a while to do it.

“Have you got their CCTV yet?” I asked.

“Yes,” Roan said. “You’ve got between eight and twelve security people inbound; they’re keeping four at the gate. Looks like twenty potential civilians, mostly women.”

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