Richard Wiseman - To Kill Or Be Killed

The room service had arrived and freshly showered and dressed in a hotel dressing gown she sat in the plush lounge, downed the Alka Seltzer and took the proffered cup of coffee.

“I don’t know your name.”

“Charlie, you’re Betty right?”

“Right. I feel a bit roughed up Charlie, we didn’t do anything weird did we?”

“No it was straight and a lot of fun, you’re a passionate woman.”

She blushed and Charlie, in spite of his harsh life, laid on the charm, it couldn’t hurt to lie a little to ease her discomfort.

“Nice place, you must be doing well.”

“Yeah I’m hoping to close a million pound deal today.”

“Hey that’s nice, my husband was a stock broker he made a real killing in the nineties.”

“Yeah I hope to make a real killing today. You said you were a widow I wasn’t sure if it was true.”

“It is. I bet you’re thinking sad old broad going out and getting drunk and laid like a tart.”

“No Betty, you’re a sweet looking woman can’t be easy being a widow in your thirties.”

“Now you’re being silly.” She smiled nonetheless. She added suddenly, “Charlie I can’t walk out in the evening dress I was wearing. Could you do me favour. If I gave you my keys you could go to my flat in Chelsea and get me some day clothes?”

“Sure Betty.” Cobb wasn’t happy, but he wanted to make things smooth. He didn’t want her getting hysterical, crying rape or calling anyone up. He was hidden and he wanted to stay that way. He called for a taxi, took the address and was about to leave Betty in the room, when he thought about the MP5 in the bag under the bed. Whilst she was in the lounge he took the bag with the weapon in and all his incriminating items from under the bed.

“What’s with the bag. If that’s cash in there I wouldn’t trust me with that much.”

“I wish it was cash, but it’s… the prototype of my new product, secret stuff and all that, patent pending so…”

“It’s okay Charlie, I understand, I wouldn’t trust me either. You’re close to your fortune, take no chances eh?”

“Sure. I’ll be back in half an hour. You sure the alarm’s not on at your house?”

“Yeah I never switch it on.”

“No, most people don’t, everyone tends to think they’re safer than they are, always complacent about their safety and then sometimes the worst happens and they’re not ready, silly really.” Cobb said and closed the door behind him.

Ellie and Tony were greeted with sniffing disdain at reception in the beautiful opulence of Claridge’s entrance foyer. The revolving door led into the grand reception, floor in polished black and white checks, gilt and glass everywhere and imposing square pillars supporting an ornate and powerful place.

The receptionist was unhappy at first at the thought of divulging information about guests and unimpressed by any official badge, but was ultimately moved to action by Cobb’s photo thrust under her nose.

‘Yes she did recognise the man, he had a suite and were they sure this man was a wanted killer?’

The answer shocked her. A copy of The Daily Express and Cobb’s picture, amongst the others, inside, page four, yielded a sharp gasp. There was an even greater gasp from the attractive girl and her bright face blanched as she looked behind them. Both of them turned reaching for their Sig 220’s knowing what it meant.

Cobb was crossing the foyer when looking to reception he looked at the girl and saw the fear in her eyes; the man and the woman there on his side of the desk reached into their jackets. Cobb shouldered the nylon bag reached into his waist band, pulled the pistol out and started to run, pointing the weapon behind him spending his last four rounds in a self cover escape blast. It worked.

Tony, Ellie and the receptionist threw themselves for cover as the PSS spat the rounds in their direction, glass shattered on a huge gilt edged mirror and wood splinters flew up from the frame of a free standing screen. One round chipped the plaster on a square column as it ricocheted into a beautiful art deco lamp on a table above Ellie’s head, dropping bulb glass into her hair.

When they looked up Cobb was just on the other side of the ornate revolving door. Unhesitating in spite of the door’s expense and beauty Tony, up on one knee, took careful aim and slammed three close grouped shots at the shadow of Cobb’s departing head as the door turned on its pivot. The glass in the door was toughened safety glass and the shots made a three centre spider web and did no more.

Ellie and Tony were on their feet and running, but as Ellie went to thrust herself full force into the segment and push her way out Tony, running just behind, encircled her with his arms and pulled her to the ground, slamming her right shoulder which made her squeeze the trigger. A spider web appeared a foot off the ground in the glass panel of the revolving door dead opposite their position. Then the door began to disintegrate under a close quarter barrage of sub machine gun rounds. The wood splintered and glass flew in all directions, into the foyer, onto the check floor and over the two prone DIC officers sheltering with arms over heads from the onslaught.

Cobb had simply got through the door, thrown away the PSS pistol and ripped the MP5 from the Nylon bag. It was cocked and ready to go and he simply clicked it from safe to automatic and in less than a second, knowing they’d pursue him out the door, turned and fired, he saw them fall to the right, saw the round hit the glass as they fell just as he opened up. He couldn’t be sure if he’d killed them or not, but he pocketed one of the other magazines, unclipped the spent one and locked the third into the MP5, set it to single shot and ran off down Brook Street towards Grovesnor Square.

Tony rolled across the floor ignoring the glass and lay on the floor dead centre of the shattered doorway, pointing his Sig at where the gunman had been, seeing nothing he got up, motioned Ellie to take the left and taking the right, stepping through the now empty revolving door frames they emerged onto the street, sweeping the clock with their Sig barrels.

“There he goes, down Brook Street. You take the left pavement I’ll take the right.” She was off running and Tony ran across to the left side of the road and began chasing.

It was early, but there were a few cars on Brook Street and being one way they were all heading towards the chase. Cobb was running down the middle of the road, dodging to the sides of traffic, sparse as it was, coming towards him. In his mind’s eye he looked at a map and knew that Hyde Park was at the bottom and Hyde Park Corner tube was on the other side of Park Lane, to the left.

There was a sharp bang and a round buzzed past him, whirring like an insect. He stopped a taxi, pointing the MP5 at the windscreen, ready to take a hostage, but Ellie saw it coming and had stopped, shouting to three pedestrians coming her way to hit the floor, which seeing her pistol they did. She stood in duellist stance and as Cobb made for the taxi door, without shouting a warning she sent off a round which sliced through his left ear and ricocheted off the taxi coach work. Cobb dropped turned, stung, but not stunned and set the Heckler Koch to automatic and loosed of a burst in the direction of the shot. Ellie made it to the shelter of a BMW, parked on her side of the road, which was then peppered with glinting, hot fizzing holes. The taxi accelerated and Cobb was briefly exposed for Tony, on the other side of the road, sheltering behind a parked car, to take a shot. The round missed Cobb by a millimetre and shattered the window on a parked Mini Cooper.

The MP5 in one hand, Cobb emptied the magazine in Tony’s direction and took off running. With cars swerving to avoid him Cobb kept running, knowing that if he stopped a car he’d risk being shot. He increased his pace heading for the park, trees, bushes, cover and his only chance of escape.