Luis Rocha - The Holy assassin

‘On my part, nothing,’ Thompson said with some frustration. ‘Payne is a stone in our shoe and knows how to irritate us.’

‘Not much,’ Staughton replied with some confidence. ‘We’ve located a reservation for a Mercedes Vito van rented out at Fiumicino and left at Schiphol.’

‘Amsterdam,’ Barnes said out loud to himself. He sat down again looking thoughtful.

‘The reservation was made in the name of Rafael Santini,’ Staughton continued.

‘Rafael Santini?’ Thompson asked. ‘Do you think that could be him?’

‘It’s him,’ Barnes affirmed with certainty. ‘His real name, it seems.’ Anger rose in his voice.

‘Why haven’t we discovered this before?’ Thompson asked curiously. The individual had always caught his attention.

‘Because he hasn’t wanted us to,’ Barnes clarified. ‘A good double agent, infiltrated, a traitor, a son of a bitch, only reveals himself when it’s good for him.’ He turned to Staughton. ‘Where is he?’

‘We don’t know.’ He looked down.

‘We don’t know?’

‘No. He’s been seen in Antwerp, Dunkirk, and we’ve lost all trace of him after that.’

Barnes raised his hand to his chin, thinking.

‘He’s heading this way,’ he said at last.

‘What?’

‘How?’

‘He’s coming here,’ Barnes repeated. ‘He picked up the van in Amsterdam, went for the bodies, was seen in Belgium and France. He’s coming here, and I want a welcoming committee to meet him when he arrives. No mistakes.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ the ever-calculating Staughton asked.

‘Because of something we don’t have the luxury to fight at this time.’

‘What?’ his assistants wanted to know.

‘The fact he’s scattered the clues so we can easily pick them up. That bothers me. He wants us to find him.’ Barnes changed the subject. ‘Go to the hospital and see what condition the injured man is in. I want a thorough interrogation. His mouth can’t be injured. Make him spill everything. It’s time to satisfy Langley.’

‘What about the White House? Anything worth mentioning?’ Thompson asked. He had held that question back since he came into the office, waiting for the right moment… this one.

Barnes took a last swallow of Carlsberg before answering.

‘A weapon of mass destruction, my friends. A weapon of mass destruction.’

‘Who… who gave you that?’ She couldn’t look at anything but the bottle. ‘Can I see it?’

Sarah took the bottle from his hand before Simon could reply. She analyzed it in detail. Even the provenance was identical, Real Companhia Velha. It couldn’t be.

‘My better half.’ Simon was puzzled by his boss’s behavior. Sarah was a woman full of mysteries. One of them was the way she was examining the gift bottle. ‘Does it remind you of Portugal? I didn’t realize you were so sentimental,’ Simon teased, discreetly, fearfully. Little by little he was regaining confidence. Little by little.

I wish it were just sentimentality, Sarah thought. With the bottle in hand she went to the door and opened it a little. She looked around the hallway with all senses alert. No one. No John Fox. Panic gave her goose bumps. She closed the door slowly and confronted Simon, who looked at her inquisitively.

‘Your girlfriend gave you this bottle?’ she asked again. ‘You’re sure?’

‘You could say that,’ Simon answered, beginning to react, still puzzled.

‘Either she did or she didn’t.’ It was not worth getting annoyed with him. She had to remain cool in order to think logically. Quick thinking meant staying alive.

‘It was… not my girlfriend.’

‘You said it was from your girlfriend,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘So who was it?’ The hell with this guy not getting to the point. It must be the medication.

‘I know what I said… He’s my boyfriend,’ he explained reticently.

Fear thickened in Sarah. That explained a lot.

‘You have a boyfriend?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he gave you this bottle?’

‘I’ve already told you yes.’ Simon observed Sarah for signs of disapproval, but didn’t detect any. Only confusion… in both of them.

‘Simon, do you trust me?’

‘Of course,’ he answered without a trace of doubt.

‘Good.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘Get up and let’s go.’

‘What?’ What a ludicrous suggestion. ‘When?’

‘Now.’

‘Sarah, what’s going on?’

Sarah went over and put her hand on his shoulder to encourage him.

‘Simon, trust me. Our lives are in danger. If we don’t get out of here right now, we’re going to die. I don’t know how else to say it.’

Simon was unable to say a word. Doubts swept through him, making him collapse back on the bed. Sarah would have to explain better than she had.

‘Simon, do what I tell you. Get up.’

Simon didn’t move.

Sarah sighed and shut her eyes before making a decision.

‘It wasn’t a gas leak.’ Thy will be done. ‘It was a bomb set to go off when the key was turned.’

‘What?’ he blurted out, astonished. ‘Who would do that?’

‘Who doesn’t matter at the moment, Simon. If we wait here to find out, it’s all over for us.’

It took Simon two seconds to decide. The new facts were relevant. He got up, put on the hospital slippers, and dragged himself to the door. Sarah would have to support him. He leaned against her side. It’d be easier for Simon, slower for the two of them. There was no time to waste.

‘Wait here,’ Sarah told him, helping him to a chair at the side of the door next to him. Simon preferred leaning on the arms to sitting down. Sarah opened the door slightly and looked from one side to the other. The way was clear.

‘Let’s go.’

Sarah returned to serve as a crutch for her injured colleague, and they started down a dark, deserted hallway. All the groans, cries, and whispers of the patients and machines were a catalyst for fear. One step at a time, a sweaty, dragging pace, looking around in search of danger. The end of the hallway seemed to stretch out forever, eliminating hope of getting outside. Even their shadows made them afraid someone would jump out of the darkness, without warning, and put an end to everything.

‘Are you sure?’ Simon whispered, afraid.

‘I am. Do you think I’d take you out of your room and jeopardize your recovery if this were a game?’

Of course not. Sarah would never do that. Damned hallway that seemed never to end. A metallic noise clanged behind them. Some object dropped or thrown. Sarah and Simon paused. They looked back. They didn’t see anyone. Maybe they should try another way, but Sarah knew only this one she’d come down with John Fox. They started down the hall toward where the noise had just come from. Better to be in known territory. Their hearts beat harder. Simon, leaning on Sarah, his body trembling, asked to rest. The sound of her heart beating in her ears interfered with her thinking. Ironically, the end of the hall was closer with every step, since their fear of what was around the corner, next to the elevators, was palpable.

Finally, they took a left at the corner and saw the elevators. The source of the noise was a metal tray, fallen from a cart left against the wall. Surgical instruments were scattered on the floor, scissors, scalpels, forceps of various shapes and sizes, and other objects not easily identifiable at first glance. They moved cautiously toward the elevators, avoiding the repulsive metal. Sarah could see dark stains on some of the cutting instruments, but the dim light didn’t reveal colors. Her imagination suggested red blood, which made sense with the scalpels. Still, it didn’t seem plausible that a doctor or nurse would leave all these instruments without sterilizing them. She put those thoughts out of her mind and hit the elevator button. It was interesting how something as natural as the presence of blood in a hospital could seem out of place. This was a theory Sarah could analyze later. Right now they had to get out of there.