Jay remained at the door, kneeling on the lush green carpet, expecting an ambush. His eyes and hands moved as one, scanning the room. Drawn curtains allowed natural light to stream in from the bay window and gave him a perfect ocean view. A nightstand stood in a small hall in front of him. To his right was a beige-coloured kitchenette, leather lounge and plasma television with a cable box balancing on top. Three dark-stained chairs sat around a glass table by the bay window. One chair missing. A laptop computer was open on the table. To the left of the table was an entrance to another room. The bedroom. A mirror had been propped by the bedroom doorway and Jay aimed his pistol at it. Target in sight. Catherine stood in the bedroom, pistol with silencer in one hand by her side and a mobile phone in her palm held to her front. She looked into the mirror at Jay and shook her head.
'I half-expected you to come abseiling down onto the balcony, Jay. Would have had a better chance at me then. Not to worry.'
He kept aim at the mirror, trying to judge just how far into the room she stood. Trying to figure out how accurate a shot would be through the wall. Too many variables she had probably already figured out.
She smiled into the mirror as if guessing his thoughts. 'No point. Thick walls that would send a nine millimetre round tumbling off its trajectory. You could always try cartwheeling over to the table, but I'll have you covered. Take a moment, step inside and throw the fucking weapon toward the table.'
He didn't move. 'Where's Sarah?'
She lifted the phone so he could get a better view of it in the mirror. 'One push of the button and a measured amount of C4 wrapped around your girlfriend's neck will tear it off her shoulders. Throw the weapon toward the table and step inside.'
Time for plan B. He lowered the pistol, got onto his feet and kicked the door closed. He placed the safety catch on and threw the pistol across the room. It landed under the table. 'How do I know she's still alive?'
'A little trust, I suppose. I've got no need to kill her. Unlike you soldier types, we don't kill unless it's necessary. If you don't hand over the disc, then it'll be necessary.'
'Somehow the trust thing with you just doesn't make sense. You make a living being a manipulative little bitch. I need proof she's alive.'
'I want to see that recording before you get to see your girlfriend. Now, keeping your hands where I can see them, move forward and place the disc into the computer.'
He slowly took the backpack off, held it in front of him and walked to the table. As he passed the bedroom, he looked at Catherine. The silencer pointed at him.
'Nothing stupid and we'll all get through this,' she said.
He pulled out a chair and placed the backpack on it. Then stepped a couple of paces to the side.
'I said put the disc into the computer.'
'This is quid pro quo. The disc is in the bag and I don't exactly trust having my back to you. Besides, I've no idea how to use your computer.'
'It's like any normal fucking computer.'
'Not mine. I've got a Mac. Very different. I'm unarmed. You want to see the recording, you can put it in yourself.'
She waved the phone around.
'Not gonna make any difference,' he said. 'It'll take too long for me to figure out how to use it and you wouldn't want me to accidentally wipe the recording, would you?'
'What's stopping me pulling the trigger on you now?'
'Two things. You don't know yet if anything is on that disc. And besides, you kill me and you only get three chances at the password before the disc wipes itself clean.'
She considered her options. Held the phone up like she was going to press the button to kill Sarah. Jay didn't blink, didn't dare move a muscle. He needed her to open the bag. He had gambled again with someone else's life. He didn't want Sarah in his dreams wearing a suicide vest.
Catherine frowned and lowered the phone. 'On your knees. Hands on your head,' she said.
He did as instructed. She stepped towards the computer and placed the phone on the table. The pistol remained in her hand, pointing at him as she tried the zipper of the backpack. It wouldn't budge. She had to hold the fabric of the backpack to unzip it. Her eyes darted between the backpack and Jay. She seemed to be weighing up her options. Jay hoped she chose the option he had planned for.
With the pistol still in hand, but now pointed slightly away from him, she unzipped the backpack. Expecting Jay to pounce, her eyes didn't leave him. Still watching him, she slid her free hand into the backpack and started fumbling around.
Jay imagined hundreds of cockroaches just waiting to escape. He saw the first one sprint up her forearm before she was aware of it. She re-directed her attention to the bag. A split second later she realised a cockroach had made its way up her arm, followed by another. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand out of the bag. It was covered in cockroaches. She shrieked and used the pistol to brush them off.
Jay took his opportunity. He shoulder-rolled and bounced to his feet. Hands extended, he grabbed Catherine's arm. She was too fixated on removing cockroaches to react in time. He raised her arm with the pistol high in the air and kneed her side. A sickening blow that knocked the wind out of her. He bent her wrist back, took the pistol and let her drop to the floor. Cockroaches continued to crawl over her as she clutched her side and sucked in deep breaths. He placed the pistol on the table and turned her over onto her stomach.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her face next to his. 'Where is she?'
Catherine didn't answer. Tried to get her breath back.
Jay was overtaken by an urge to smash her face into the floor. It took all his willpower to remain restrained. 'Where is she?' Spittle flew onto her face.
'Fuck you,' she mouthed.
'I won't fall for that one again,' he said. He let go of her hair, knowing there was little time to get to Sarah. Her face dropped to the carpet with a thud and a moan. He searched her thoroughly and found what he was looking for in less than ten seconds. A room key. He checked the number; it was for the room next door. She wriggled under his weight. The pressure built up inside him. He lifted her by the hair and pushed her face back down. The cracking of her nose and her muffled scream reminded him that he wasn't like them. He regretted hurting her, and it made him wonder what he was capable of. He shook off the feeling.
He resisted the temptation to run next door and instead looked around for something to bind Catherine. He spotted a toaster on the kitchenette. The cord. While she lay still, sucking in deep breaths and moaning over her broken nose, he ripped the cord from the toaster and tied her hands behind her back. He wanted to rescue Sarah. He knew she would be there, bleeding. Time was ticking away. He needed a gag and leapt off Catherine. He went into the bedroom and started to take off a pillowcase. Something made him glance towards the bathroom.
The life sucked from him. A woman sat slumped in a chair facing away from him, wrists tied behind her back. No fingers on either hand. Just bloody stumps. Jay felt the bile scorch the back of his throat. He fought it down, dropped the pillow and crept towards the bathroom, his knees begging to give way. He tried to say something but couldn't. Lips wouldn't move, throat bone-dry. He looked across at Catherine. A gust of wind blew the curtains across her face and then rested against the window. It was as if the curtain had covered her transformation from evil Mossad agent into a raving psychopath. Her head was tilted up, blood dripping from her nose onto the carpet. She grinned, an evil grin. He shifted his attention to the bathroom and noticed something different about Sarah. Wrong hair colour. He paused behind her, standing in a pool of blood. His trembling hands ran through his hair, eyes welled and breathing became shallow. He forced his shaking hands forward and around her. Cupped her chin and lifted her head back. Gasped and dry-retched. The throat had been cut from ear to ear. His mouth widened in disgust and surprise.
It wasn't Sarah.
And then he understood why Uncle Pat had betrayed him and done the things he had done. Understood what could turn the Director of NSIS into an evil manipulator. Understood why he had betrayed those he'd called his friends. He held the head of his childhood friend. Uncle Pat's daughter, Tanya.