‘I can’t…’
Again, the pressure. ‘I know all about number accounts my friend, and you guys always know where the money moves to. So, where the fuck are those banks?’
Schlovan tapped away again, then pointed to the screen. ‘There.’
‘Good. Now that wasn’t too difficult was it?’
The banker leaned back in his chair, a look of exhaustion on his big round face. Jack took out his smartphone and snapped a picture of the screen. ‘And that concludes our business. Thank you, Silvio.’
‘You won’t get away with this, you know?’
Jack smiled. ‘What, you mean legally? I don’t think you’ll be bringing-in any financial authorities. Do you?’
‘Do you know who owns, The Henagar?’ said the banker, somewhat emboldened.
Jack smiled. ‘Actually, we do. And your bosses aren’t going to be very happy if they find out you’ve co-operated with us so, willingly, shall we say?’
The banker swallowed deeply. ‘You’ve got what you came for. Now what?’
‘Now,’ said Jack. ‘We’ll bid you good-night.’
The banker stood, went over to his wife, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, then looked at Bogdan.
‘Boo!’ said the big Russian.
The couple flinched simultaneously at the taunt. Bogan smiled and said. ‘Dasvidanya.’
‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘You wouldn’t mind if we used your chauffer to take us back into town, would you, Silvio?’
The banker never answered.
Chapter Twenty Five
It was well after 2am when they arrived back at the Nova Varos, but the hotel was still busy, largely due to the swish nightclub on the top floor.
‘How about an hour in the club, boss?’
Jack patted the big man on the back. ‘I’ll pass, if that’s okay, buddy? But you go. I’ll see you at breakfast. Nine o’clock okay?’
‘Da, okay boss. See you in morning.’
Jack took the house elevator, and Bogdan joined the short queue for the express-lift to the roof-top club.
As the doors closed Jack checked his Rolex, 02:35, too late to ring Nicole. The lift came to a stop with a slight jerk and the doors slid quietly open. At the end of the long corridor he touched the key-card to the panel and the door clicked open. He stepped into the room, and just caught sight of the shadow, before feeling the pain, and then slipping into oblivion…
The stinging slap across his face brought him round. He moaned as he opened his eyes and the pain hit him again. His head was pounding, a trickle of warm blood ran down the back of his neck.
Two men stood in front of him. Thirties, fit, and mean. The taller one spoke first. ‘Wakey, wakey, man.’
‘I didn’t call for room service,’ groaned Jack.
The smaller, stockier one, punched him hard in the ribs.
Jack sucked in a lung-full of air and groaned again. ‘No tip for you, mate.’
The man made to strike, but the other snapped, ‘Enough!’
‘You, I’ll tip,’ said Jack.
‘You’re a funny guy,’ said the man in charge.
Jack held one hand to the back of his head, the other against his ribs. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You can start by telling us who the fuck you are, and who you’re working for?’
Jack looked around the room. It had obviously been searched. ‘Smith, Jack Smith.’
‘You checked in as, Mr Mason,’ then waving a passport said, ‘and this was in the fridge. Also, in the name of, Mason. Who hides their passport in a fridge?’
‘Okay, so I’m, Jack Mason.’
‘This passport looks brand-new, yet it has many stamps and visas. You can get entry to many countries with this. So, who are you really, Jack? If that’s your real name.’
‘So it’s a new passport, so what. Yeah, I travel a lot. And sure, you can call me, Jack. You can call me anything you like… as long as it’s not darling.’
The taller nodded to the shorter, and this time the punch knocked all the wind out of Jack.
‘Keep joking, Jack. My friend here can use you as a punch bag all night. Now who the fuck are you really? British Intelligence?’
It took a few seconds for Jack to get his breath back, he looked up at the man and said, ‘My name is Smith… no, Mason… no… oh, fuck it, what the hell, just call me, darling.’
The fist was raised again. ‘Stop.’
The little guy looked disappointed.
‘Let’s take him back. On your feet, Jack.’
Jack stood, as the little guy produced a silenced Smith & Wesson revolver.
They moved to the door and the leader opened it. Bogdan Markov stood in front of them, clenched fist raised, ready to knock on the door. For a split second no one moved. Then, as fast as a flyweight boxer, the big Russian hit the man square on the point of his chin. The thud of the punch almost silenced by the sickening crack of the smashed jaw-bone.
The man fell back in agony, knocking Jack and the gunman off their feet. Bogdan ploughed into the group, making straight for the weapon. Two dull thuds rang-out, as the panicked shooter got two rounds off, both missing the Russian and shattering the long mirror beside the door.
Jack was on the leader and had him round the neck, blood, bone and teeth being spit from the man’s gasping mouth.
The little thug was no match for the Russian and the sound of Bogdan head-butting the man, rendering him unconscious, heralded the end of the fight.
Jack struggled to keep the younger fitter man in his grip, as Bogdan quickly closed the door. He turned and kicked the leader hard in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of him and the dreadful pain from the jaw wound, the man gave up.
The Russian picked up the revolver just as the shooter came round.
Five or six minutes later, the attackers were tied-up with cords from a couple of bathrobes. Shredded towels were used to secure their feet, and together they lay helpless on the bed.
Blood oozed from the leader’s mouth, as the gag was pulled hard around his face.
‘I think this fucka is gonna bleed to death, boss.’
‘Fuck him,’ said Jack. ‘Okay, buddy. Go get your gear and get back here A-SAP.’
The Russian turned to the groaning figures on the bed, leaned in close and said, ‘Boo!’
Jack grinned and shook his head. ‘Get going.’
Jack collected his scattered effects and quickly stuffed them into his bag, then went into the bathroom. He removed his shirt and looked in the mirror. His torso was badly bruised, but he didn’t think any ribs were broken. He gently washed the back of his head and winced as he felt the lump. ‘Bastard,’ he said out loud.
Back in the room he checked the men’s restraints, then put on a new shirt, stuffing the blooded and torn one into the waste bin. He looked at his watch, almost 3 o’clock. He found his smartphone, took a photograph of the two thugs, then sat down.
A few minutes later Bogdan knocked at the door. Inside, he said, ‘What’s the plan, boss?’
Jack turned back to the bed, did a final check, then said, ‘We’ll leave these boys to enjoy each other’s company.’
‘Yeah, they probably like that, boss.’
Jack smiled and winked at the two men. ‘You ladies have a nice night now. Okay, buddy, we’re outta here.’
As he closed the door, Jack hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the handle.
Chapter Twenty Six
Not wishing to reveal their destination, Jack politely refused the valet’s offer to get them a courtesy car. Instead they walked down into the street and hailed a passing cab.