'Are you kidding?' Sarah asked.
Jay wasn't. 'We need to find out who hired the assassin. That should lead to Dad. Simple as that. Find the hitman, tie him up, ask him a few questions and track down whoever hired him,' he said.
'Somehow I can't see a hitman giving up the name of his employer. Kinda bad for future business. Listen to yourself, Jay. It's a damned assassin, not some young soldier sitting in front of you shitting himself and ready to tell you if he wears women's panties or dates dwarves.'
'Local assassins probably wouldn't rate a mention in my memoir compared to some of the scum I've interrogated. Besides, I don't think there's an option.'
Sarah took a deep breath. 'I think we should be getting out of here now and finding Primrose,' she said.
Her tone surprised him. 'My father's more important to me than a goddamned piece of paper. As soon as Dad's safe, I'll deal with Primrose.'
Another heavy breath. 'All I'm saying is, you want to take on an assassin, and I know you don't want to run, but it's a fucking assassin.'
'Why has the "we" gone out of your statements?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Let's just get the fuck out of here. We get Primrose and the document and that will lead to your dad.' She softened her voice. 'I've only just got to know you. I don't want to lose you now. We've enough time to get out of here and find Primrose before they find us. The longer we stay, the longer the odds for us staying alive.'
Jay calmed himself and grabbed the plates from the bed, placing them on the service trolley. He lit a cigarette and pondered Sarah's logic. Far too many variables in trying to catch an assassin; to interrogate him and find out who hired him. Probably a stupid idea in the first place. On the other hand, it would buy time and he didn't want to be running. Although, technically, he was already on the run from the law. Another thing: too many risks in going back to the Sofitel. And that would be the only way to draw the assassin into a trap. He ran a hand over the whiskers on his chin. 'You think it's too risky?'
'Hell yes, it's too risky.'
He paced the room and drew deeply on the cigarette. 'We're going to be hunted.'
She walked to him and placed her hand in his. 'And we're sitting ducks hanging around here.' She rubbed her thumbs over the back of his hands; it was calming and sensual.
There were merits either way. His priority was finding his father; however, he knew that sometimes one needed to fight a different battle to win a war. Years as an interrogator had taught him to attack on various fronts. This wasn't much different. As long as the end state remained the same, he needed to use the best tactics available. He walked to the window and peered out at the city lights. 'How are we going to track Primrose? Even if I get the message to Uncle Pat, I don't think he'll be in a position to help us.'
Sarah joined him at the window. 'I could call some colleagues to see what they know. Cash in some favours.'
'I don't know.' He shook his head. 'Uncle Pat and the PM were clear on the official help – or rather the lack thereof – we'll receive.'
Sarah appeared to be in deep thought. After a moment she said, 'You know, I have some police contacts who think I'm an actual federal agent. Perhaps I can figure out who's handling Bowen's murder. If I can find out where Catherine is, it should lead us to Primrose.'
Before Jay could answer, there was a knock on the door. 'Hold that thought,' he said.
Sarah moved to the bedside table, grabbed the Glock and made her way to a position covering the door. Jay grabbed his pistol and went to the door.
'Speak,' he said.
'Concierge, sir. I have the items you requested.'
Jay gave a nod to Sarah, indicating that he knew the voice. She remained in her position, slightly lowering the Glock.
Comfortable with the Browning tucked into the back of his pants, Jay peeked through the view-hole. Satisfied that the concierge was alone, he opened the door.
Jay had no idea where Sarah hid her weapon, but she now stood smiling, waiting for an introduction – an expectation Jay wasn't going to fulfil. He wanted the transaction completed so they could move out of the city in search of Primrose.
'Good evening, ma'am.'
Sarah threw Jay a sharp look before turning her attention to the concierge. 'Hi.'
An uncomfortable silence ensued, but then Jay broke the tension. 'I guess that's the introductions done. We'll all do dinner some other time. Have you got the phones?'
'Yes, sir, and an authorisation to add my service expense to your bill.' He handed the bag and the authorisation slip to Jay.
Sarah came forward, took the bag and swung away to the bed before Jay had a chance to say anything. He looked at the concierge and shrugged.
Jay held out his hand and the concierge promptly produced a pen.
'We need another favour,' Jay said.
The concierge grinned and Jay was sure he noticed dollar signs flashing in his eyes.
'What would that be, sir?'
'Need a hire car within the hour.'
Like a professional car salesman, the concierge put his hand to his chin, considering the costs involved. 'This time of night . . .'
'Enough of the theatrics. You know where to get one. No doubt the hotel has a contract agreement with a car-hire company. So within the next hour, no longer, I'm willing to add another couple of hundred to your tip.'
A grin spread across the concierge's face. 'Any particular model?'
Jay handed back the pen and signed authorisation slip. 'Just make it comfortable. If you have it out the front in thirty minutes, I'll make the tip five hundred. And that's in addition to what I have already given you for the phones.' Jay didn't mind how much it cost. It would all be billed to the credit card now in the hands of the obese weapons dealer.
'I'll do my best, sir.' The concierge turned and walked out.
Jay closed the door and joined Sarah on the bed. He watched her put the two phones together and test them. He could sense that she wasn't in the best of moods and didn't want to push her, guessing that the gravity of their situation was starting to sink in.
After programming each phone with their numbers, they packed their limited possessions and made their way to the lobby. As promised, the concierge appeared with the keys to a rental car and some paperwork.
Jay checked his watch as the concierge neared. Twenty-seven minutes after the concierge had left the room. Nice work, he thought.
The transaction was complete with the flick of a pen across the appropriate forms, the tip left as promised and added to the bill. With a curt nod, the concierge disappeared into the bar.
Jay and Sarah were happy with the rental – a Toyota four-wheel-drive. It sat sparkling white under the streetlights at the hotel's front entrance. Jay got in the driver's side. 'Where to?' he asked as Sarah sat down in the passenger seat.
'Find an internet café. I want to let the Director know where we're at.'
'You think that's wise? He didn't ask for updates.'
'I think we should at least tell him that we're finally going after Primrose.'
'What do you mean by finally?'
'Don't you think we've wasted enough time here? We could have gotten to Primrose already.'
'I think we've achieved quite a bit, actually. Unless you're referring to what happened upstairs between us as a waste of time.' As soon as the words were out, he regretted saying them. The air in the car became thick with tension.
Sarah stared through him. Her jaw clenched tight. She started to say something when her eyes became wide as though she'd seen a ghost. 'Drive!' she shouted, reaching for the Glock.
Jay reacted in an instant, pressing hard on the accelerator as the Glock came up. He released the clutch and the pistol whipped in front of his face. He pushed back in the seat, trying to avoid the weapon's cold steel. Tyres screamed for grip and the pistol moved away from his face. He thought Sarah had the weapon pointed at his ear.
The air was sucked out of him and he felt like he'd been thumped on the back of the head. Two rounds had been released from the Glock. A double tap at a target Jay couldn't see. His ears rang as he struggled to steer in the right direction. He ducked his head against the steering wheel and ran a red light, crossing two lanes, thankful not to hit another car.
He hadn't dared breathe for an entire block. His heart pounded in time with the vibrations between his ears. Glancing sideways at Sarah, he saw her holding her head in her lap, hands covering her ears. He straightened up in the seat and slowed the vehicle.
He drove for a few more blocks and pulled up near the South Bank Parklands.
Sarah raised her head. She'd been crying. She mouthed sorry to him. He couldn't hear. He reached over and put his arm around her, pulling her head to his shoulder. They held their embrace until their breathing slowed.
Jay shook his head as though he was trying to shake water from his ears. Sarah leaned back in her chair. He looked over his shoulder to the rear passenger window that Sarah had shattered with her bullets.
He cleared his throat to check his hearing. It started to come back. 'What the hell happened?' he said, a little too loud.
Sarah wiped her face on her sleeve. 'Gun. Someone was coming at the car pointing a gun.'
Jay checked the window again. Two thumb-sized holes with a thousand spiderwebs crawled across what was left of the window. He looked back to Sarah. 'Silencers would have been handy.'
She coughed at his attempted humour. 'I'm sorry. . . I. . .just reacted. Someone was running toward us halfway across the street.' She swallowed hard, looked to the shattered window and then back to Jay. 'I think I just killed the Deputy Director.'