Ian had to jam himself in the corner to get his pants off or else he’d kick the waiter in the face. His name was Dean. Young guy who looked bored even through his fear.
His wrists and ankles were bound by zipties. Wide strip of black duct tape over his mouth.
Ian made sure he folded the pants into a nice square. Set them in Dean’s lap before reaching for the dress shirt.
The door opened, and Mohammed came in holding the cell phone they had tied into the hotel’s system. His uniform didn’t fit as well as Ian’s. “Got a call for room service. Said disposition was forthcoming.”
Ian took the phone. “Must be interrogating them. The first thing I’ve seen him do.”
He took the phone and dialed Stan’s room.
“Yeah,” Stan said.
“Household Services. You requested room service?”
“I did.”
“Are you ready with your order?”
“Yeah, I need two entrées. Well done. And can I get extra napkins?”
“Of course. Will there be anything else?”
“I have a couple letters for the outgoing mail.”
“We’d be happy to pick that up, sir.”
“Thanks.”
“Our pleasure, sir.”
He handed the phone back to Mohammed. Looked down at the bound waiter in apology. “Sorry, Dean. I need your pants again.”
Dean shrugged before looking away. Trying to be hard. Good for him.
Ian dressed again. Followed Mohammed out into the lobby where he locked the door behind him with Dean’s staff key. Around the corner into the service hallway to find Shawna standing next to two laundry carts. Losing so much weight in the past several months made it possible to get into one of the maid uniforms. Even just one month ago, it would have been difficult. He was so proud of her.
She blushed when she saw him staring. Tipped her head toward the carts. “I got ‘em just in case.”
“Good job,” Ian said, and her smile beamed. “It turns out we need them. Room service on the fifth floor.”
Usually he wouldn’t take the elevator. Almost always using the stairs, especially now that Shawna could use them without getting out of breath and slowing them down. But the service elevators were isolated away from the public. Unlikely to have anybody lying in ambush, so he ushered them inside, and they rode to the fifth floor in silence.
On Stan’s floor, Mohammed exited first. Checked the hall at the corner. Motioned for them to follow. At Stan’s door, Mohammed knocked. Ian stood behind him with a cart. Shawna in the rear with the second cart.
Stan answered with his gun leading the way. Ian approved. Stan darted back inside, and Mohammed caught the closing door and held it open for Ian and Shawna to follow.
When it latched shut, Ian slid the cart to the side and walked into the room to stand next to Stan. Held his first finger up to his lips for silence while Mohammed and Shawna pulled out their tools to do a sweep of the rooms.
He heard Shawna’s voice. “Sweetie, you’ll need to go into the other room.”
The two well-done entrées were on the floor by the bed. One with a face that looked like bloody bread dough. The other sitting in confused shock.
Ian nodded as he turned to see where his team was. Mohammed had the sniffer up at the corners of the ceiling. Moved to sweep it past the sprinkler and the recessed lights.
Shawna was on the baseboards and the outlets. They both converged on the adjoining door. Ian followed to watch them.
Ronnie sat on the bed with her legs crossed. Both hands on her knees like a queen waiting for her servants to finish preparing her bath. Mo stood with a flower of a girl in his arms. Except for the muscles in her back and up her neck.
The bleeding hands.
He whistled in appreciation. She must have been the one to work the guy’s face over. Shawna and Mohammed turned to him at the same time. Mohammed gave him a thumbs-up. “Clean, “ Shawna said.
Ian clapped his hands together. Gen jumped in Mo’s arms. Ronnie remained still and regal, her face inscrutable behind the plastic mask.
Ian turned into the other room. “It looks like we can speak freely,” he said. “So … what’s up, Stan?”
Stan swept his arms past the assholes on the floor. “These two were in the parking lot like you said. Instructions to wait for an opportunity, and then take us out. The one that got the ground and pound was a little more resistant than the one crying in the corner, but I'm not so sure he could talk now anyway, so … “ He shrugged.
Ian pointed next door. “Did Gen do it? Sure looks like it,”
Stan nodded. “She sure did.”
Shawna applauded. “Good for her.”
“She doesn’t have much of a mechanical advantage being so much shorter than the guy, but she made up for it by being a fucking savage.”
Ian bent down to stare into the battered face. “Is he still alive?”
“Yeah, just out cold.”
Ian chuckled as he straightened up. “Shit, it looks like he's in a coma.”
Stan looked over to the doorway. Nodded and pitched his voice low. “I need them eliminated. Then disposed of. Then I need the room policed.”
Ian shook his head. “That’s quite a bit of blood your million dollar baby did there. I doubt if we can make it like new, but we have a few tricks.”
“They cost extra?”
Ian smiled. “Not as much as the helicopter did to get us here before you.”
The voice behind him made him turn in surprise. “Why?” Gen asked.
Ian looked at Shawna and Mohammed and back to Gen. “Why what?”
“Why get here before us?” Mo came up behind her to drop his hand on her shoulder. She shook it off and stepped into the room. “Why help? Is it just for the money? Or is it something more? You’re a killer as much as they are.”
When he didn’t answer, she threw her arms out. “Tell me! You’re here to kill them as long as Stan pays your price. How are you any different than any of us?”
Ian sighed. “I don’t think my answer will satisfy you.”
“It’s better than not getting an answer at all.”
He nodded. “Fine. I’m here because of the office’s audacity.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I told you.”
“Then make me understand.”
He put his hands behind his back. Glanced at Stan over his shoulder. When he faced her, he shrugged. “Because they don’t know how to be courteous. They aren’t playing by the rules. The office saw us as just another obstacle. No offense, but they saw us as equal to you.”
“What … you’re offended?”
“That’s part of it. But they are trying to do more than kill us. They are trying to push us out of the paradigm. And unfortunately, other independent contractors are complicit. They don’t understand that it will shift the balance of power away from the currency of talent. And ability. And experience. To just currency. Then it’s no longer the best team that gets to choose. It’s the team that accepts the least money. The one that undercuts the competition.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So, it’s not just business?”
“Oh no. It’s very personal. Because they also came at me without respect. They came at me like it was going to be easy. Like I was just an annoyance to be removed with the effort of these second-rate amateur hacks.” He took a calming breath. Forced himself to smile. “No, Miss DeVries, I am angry. I will see them embarrassed and torn apart for free because it has become a personal mission. But I will help you embarrass them and tear them apart as long as you pay.”
Gen covered her mouth. “You don’t care about the little girls being raped and killed? The children who have already died?”
“Of course I do. Unlike some of the other contractors out there, I have standards. One of the reasons we are also targets. But saving children is not my cause.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up one finger. “Unless I’m being paid to save them.”
She closed her mouth and looked down at the floor. When Mo put his hand on her shoulder this time, she let it stay.
Ian felt satisfied with his reasons. Motioned to Shawna and Mohammed as he turned back around. They pulled their pistols. Screwed the suppressor into the barrel.
The guy in the corner reared back with his eyes wide open. “Wait a minute,” he said. He shook his head back and forth like a dog with a rabbit in his teeth. He rose up on his knees and looked at Stan. “You said you wasn’t going to kill us. You promised.”
Stan nodded. “That’s right, Bailey. And I’m going to keep that promise. I’m not going to kill you. They are.”
When he pointed to Ian and his team, the guy fell back on his heels. Looked up at them with a slack jaw and sagging eyelids. “Oh,” he whispered.
“You’re going to shoot them?” Gen asked.
Ian didn’t bother turning around. “No. Too much of a mess. The guns are just in case. If you want to stay, keep quiet.”
Stan side-stepped out of the way. Ian heard them gather up the bags. Before they could close the door to the adjoining rooms, Ian said, “Are you good for this?”
“Absolutely,” Stan said.
“Will you need further support?”
Stan sighed. Paused before speaking. “Yeah, I think so.”
Ian nodded. “Copy that.”
The door clicked shut, and it was just him and his team. Two assholes on the floor. He pointed to the one that had been crying. “Could you get up and sit on the edge of the bed please?”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna put you to sleep.”
The guy nodded. “Okay.”
He rose up with his arms hanging lifeless by his side. Turned and dropped into a slouch on the edge of the bed. Ian climbed up behind him.
“Will it hurt?” the guy whispered.
“Do you want it to?”
The guy shrugged. “It probably should.”
Ian moved like a snake to whip his arms around the guy's neck in a chokehold. Right forearm across the windpipe. Wrist pressed into the carotid artery. Right hand locked into the crook of his left elbow.
The guy pushed back against him. Lunged forward. Tried to open the hole by clawing at Ian’s uniform jacket.
Ian whispered in his ear. Cooing noises. Like shushing a baby.
Then his struggles slowed as his head turned red. Then purple. His hands flopped into his lap. His weight pulled Ian forward, so he got his knees under him. Took a deep breath. Jerked up on the guy’s head as he threw his lower body out behind him.
When he laid out with the chokehold still secure, the guy’s neck snapped. Trachea crushed. His brain was already deprived of oxygen to the point where he probably hadn’t felt a thing. Though Ian agreed with him. It probably should have hurt.
As he stepped over to take care of the other guy, Mohammed dragged the first guy’s body into a waiting laundry cart. Pulled the comforter off the bed to cover it up. Tucked around him like swaddling a newborn.
The second guy’s only protest was a coughing snore when Ian got him into position. Then there was a second body in the other laundry cart.
Stripped the bed to cover him up, then stepped back to survey the damage to the room.
Some blood splatter. Overturned furniture. Nothing too bad. One hour should see them back on the road. Maybe he’d have a chance to make Gen understand when he caught up with them in Texas. Assuming they made it.