Jay pulled his hands away from Tanya's head as though he'd been hit with an electric shock. The sight of his blood-covered hands sent him reeling to the sink. He bent over and emptied the contents of his stomach through coughing fits. It took a minute or so for him to calm down. Bloodied handprints ringed the basin. He cursed the paper that wrapped the hotel soap before dropping it onto the floor in a pool of Tanya's blood. He cursed again as he picked up the soap and noticed her severed fingers inches away from his face. He dropped the soap again and headed for the shower. He leaned in with his feet planted outside the cubicle and switched on the tap. Cold water poured down his head and back, under his shirt and into his jeans. He didn't care, just wanted to get the blood and vomit off him. The putrid smell. There was more than just Tanya's blood on his hands.
He buried his face in a towel and realised that he was no closer to knowing where Sarah was or what had happened to her. Then he felt guilty for thinking about Sarah and not focusing on Tanya. How could his judgement of Uncle Pat have been so wrong? He finally understood what had driven Uncle Pat to do the things he had. For his one and only daughter. Now he lay in hospital not knowing. He had to call Uncle Pat, but not before he got some information out of Catherine. He placed the bloodstained towel over Tanya's head; it seemed like the right thing to do.
He turned to leave the bathroom. A familiar face stood blocking the doorway. Business suit, pistol and a poker face. A man he hadn't seen in many years.
'Hello, Mr Ryan.'
Jay closed his eyes tight and opened them, wanting it to be a dream.
'Hands on your head please.'
There was no chance of pulling his pistol and he obeyed the instruction. He knew this person was all business and wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. A measure of control was now required. A fall-back to his training.
'That's good, Mr Ryan. Now slowly come forward to the carpet and lie face down, hands outstretched.'
The man edged back into the room and Jay followed. He dropped to the carpet and complied with the request. The man stood just beyond Jay's outstretched hands. A forearm dug into his neck and pushed his face deep into the carpet. A second man. He could feel the fibres grinding into his teeth while his neck quickly went numb. He was thoroughly searched by the second man. Jay could tell it wasn't Catherine by the weight on his back and the size of the hands. The pistol was removed from the front of his pants and the weight lifted from him.
'Now it would please us if you would sit on the floor at the end of the bed and raise your hands toward the bedposts.'
Jay pushed himself off the carpet, onto his knees. With his hands on his head he edged toward the end of the bed, sat down with his legs extended and raised his arms toward the bedposts. The man with the pistol came around to his front and stood by the table. Catherine emerged from the direction of the kitchenette, wiping her bloodied nose with a dishcloth. Jay's right arm was grabbed and a pillowcase used to lash it to a bedpost. Jay recognised the second man, wearing a business suit identical to his partner's. His other hand was bound to the other bedpost and the second man joined the others at the table.
Jay had a premonition this situation wasn't going to end well for him. He was running out of luck. 'Good to see you two gentleman again,' he said. 'How is the general?'
The one with the pistol still pointed at Jay answered. 'Dead.'
'That's a shame. Talkative one too. Hope you two didn't get heavy-handed with him.'
'Heart attack.'
Jay nodded. 'Happens.'
'Shut up, Jay.' Catherine wiped her nose again. 'You're going to pay for this when we've finished with you.'
'Well, that doesn't make sense. I assume when you finish with me I'll be dead. So how are you going to make me pay then?'
Both men tried hard not to laugh at Jay's comment, at Catherine's expense. She took a step toward Jay before the man with the pistol stopped her. 'Let's get on with this, Dalia. We're on a tight schedule,' he said.
'Don't use my name, idiot.'
'What's it matter?'
'Fine, Eli,' she said.
It confirmed Jay's worse fears – he wasn't coming out of this situation intact. 'What a lovely name,' Jay said. 'Dalia Primrose. That's if you're going to keep your married name when you get back to Israel.'
She was ready to respond before Jay cut her off. 'Where's Sarah, Dalia?'
'Who?' said Eli.
'The Australian secret agent Dalia kidnapped,' Jay said.
'What's he talking about?' Eli said to Dalia.
'Just a loose end that's been taken care of. He took care of it himself, actually.' She wiped her nose again and smiled at Jay. 'She was in the boot of the car that he stole from me. Good chance she'll be dead by now.'
Jay realised that he'd never checked the boot when he'd left the car at the train station. Had no reason to. His arms strained against the ties. It couldn't be. Didn't want to believe he was responsible for yet another death. He worked overtime trying to think of the timing and if she could be rescued alive. But he would have heard something by now. He dropped his head and let his arms go slack.
'Just get the disc and get this over with,' Eli said. 'David, check to make sure it's the one.'
'Where is it?'
'In the bag full of cockroaches,' Dalia said.
Jay didn't have to look up. The disc was blank. Just a matter of time before the physical pain started again. No way out of it. He wanted it all to end. Ironically, by bringing a blank disc, he'd probably live a while longer, albeit in a lot of pain. He had too much pride to die without a fight though, and lifted his head to watch the proceedings.
It didn't take long for David to realise he had put a blank disc into the computer. He simply said, 'It's not on here.'
'Check it, Dalia,' Eli said. 'For your sake it had better be there.'
She checked. 'It's not here. I don't understand.'
'I do,' Eli said. 'You have thirty seconds to find out where it is.'
She looked at Eli, who was focused on his watch. Then she shifted her gaze to Jay. He hadn't seen that expression before. Panic. The always-in-control psychopath feared for her wellbeing. She picked up her pistol with the silencer attached. 'Where is it?' she said to Jay.
'Don't know what you're talking about. Although it may be a compatability issue – told you I use a Mac.'
She rushed forward and stood next to his legs, her pistol extended toward him. Perfect, he thought.
'Where is the fucking disc with the recording?'
'Are you sure you have the right software on your computer?'
She lowered the pistol and shot a round into the carpet beside his leg. Although the pistol was fitted with a silencer, it still made all three men jump to attention.
As she brought the weapon back toward him, she moved nearer, as if to menace him further by holding the weapon closer to her target. Bad move. Jay kicked up and caught her high on the wrist. The pistol tumbled over his head and onto the bed. He slid down the carpet as far as his lashed hands would allow and kicked her knees from under her. She fell toward him. He pushed one leg up under her throat and the other behind her head and dragged her down. Not quite the impact with the floor he wanted. Not enough to break her neck. The blow had stunned her and she looked groggy as she got to her knees.
Jay expected a bullet to be coming his way but both men stood still. Just watching the show.
Jay pushed his hips one way then back and kicked hard into the side of Dalia's head. The impact jarred his foot. Cracking sounds echoed around the room followed by a thud as her head hit the ground. He doubted she'd survived long enough to feel her head hitting the carpet. Matted hair covered her face and he couldn't see her eyes. His leg had followed through and rested on her torso. He lifted it off, sat back up and paid attention again to the man with the gun. One down, just two to go, he thought.
'Very impressive, Mr Ryan,' Eli said. He indicated to David, who moved forward to check for a pulse.
Jay tracked David's movements. David shook his head to Eli, indicating that Dalia was dead. And so ends Catherine Primrose, manipulator and wife of a psychopath, Dalia the Mossad agent, he thought.
'Now that's taken care of, we should get down to business, Mr Ryan. And just to be certain that you are under no illusions that it is acceptable to try something like that with David or myself...' He lowered the weapon and shot a round into the sole of Jay's left foot.
The movement was executed too quickly for Jay to react. A burning sensation ran up his leg. He bit down on his lip, but didn't cry out. Today he was going to die like a man, like a soldier. No begging, no screaming. In a convoluted way, he understood that the two men before him were professionals, just doing their job.
'Again, I'm impressed, Mr Ryan. You know, under different circumstances you would have been a perfect candidate for Mossad.'
Jay gritted his teeth against the pain and managed to say, 'I'm not Jewish.'
Eli smiled. 'A sense of humour too. Right, let's get down to business.' He turned to face his partner. 'David, could you find something that will inflict a lot of pain?'
For the first time, David smiled.
Jay swallowed hard.