The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (17 page)

One day
…

“You’re right,” she whispered for only Aaron to hear. “I need to do this.”

Allowing herself to pull away, to have Aaron’s hands release her, made it final. She wouldn’t hug him again or she wouldn’t let go.

Leave now or never leave.

She pulled the door open.

“Wait,” Alex said.

Aaron’s hand shot over her shoulder and closed the door.

“What?” Sarah asked, her impatience for herself coming through in the tone of her voice. It would mean nothing to Alex as he didn’t seem to care what people said or how they said it. Alex was only interested in actions.

“Here.” Alex handed over Ansgar’s cell phone. “The guy on the other end texted back. This was his last message.”

Sarah read it to herself, then handed it to Aaron.

“Not very smart of him to threaten a man like Ansgar.”

Aaron shook his head as he read the message, then handed the phone back to Alex.

“Whoever he is, he doesn’t think Ansgar can get to him. Stupid if you ask me.”

“It worked, though. We got him riled up.”

Aaron nodded.

“Just stay together. Stay safe. I’ll be back in a few days and we’ll deal with Ansgar. Then it’s over.”

Aaron winked at her. “Then it’s over,” he repeated.

Sarah opened the door before she had time to think about it. She edged into the corridor, saw it was empty, then started down the hall toward the elevator without looking back. She had to get on that plane or she would return to the hotel and not make it to Denmark.

The mystery that Vivian started with the letters was almost unraveled and Sarah resolved to see it to the end.

Even if it killed her.

And if it did, she would kick Vivian’s ass.

Chapter 20

The hospital took longer than he thought. The emergency room at the hospital was full when he arrived, but after complaining of difficulty breathing, they took him ahead of others who weren’t injured as badly.

Now, with small white strips of bandage on either side of his swollen nose and a thicker one crossing the bridge, Ansgar caught a taxi at the main entrance of the hospital and headed back to the hotel. The sun left behind a purple sky as it dipped over the horizon.

The intruders could have the police waiting for him. Aaron and Alex and that girl who attacked him, and whoever else they had with them could be waiting to finish their fight. Ansgar chose to not enter the hotel. He would wait outside like he used to years before as a sniper in Afghanistan. Eventually one of them would exit the hotel and he would dispatch them.

For a man like him, with his experience, it was a joke that the girl got the better of him. She would pay for that.

The cell phone would be a problem. The client would attempt to make contact and Ansgar wouldn’t be there. Unless the room had been searched, in which case the cell phone would be in evidence and the client would be placed in jeopardy.

This did not bode well for future contracts.

All that was left for him to do was stack up the bodies.

Ansgar would wait out front of the hotel. He would watch for the gang that interrupted his time with Clara. If none came out, he would be Peter Ford and enter the hotel and attempt to gain access to his room.

Aaron and his team were there for revenge. They brought a girl with them to gain access to the room. A girl fighter. Good with her hands, displaying little fear. Aaron had a good team, Ansgar would give him that. And Ansgar would break that team apart one by one. Then maybe he could continue his job for the client. This would go down as a minor setback.

When he got to the girl who broke his nose, he would offer her a minor setback as well. A broken knee cap would work. A severed spine. Two dislocated shoulders. One eye poked out. A few missing teeth. And of course, a broken nose. That girl would never walk again, never eat right again, and have difficulty breathing through a tube for the rest of her short life when he was done with her.

That was the thing about Ansgar. He didn’t discriminate. He took jobs whether the target was a woman or a man. He even took a job to kill a rich guy’s ten-year-old son once so the ex-wife couldn’t have him in a divorce battle. In the animal kingdom, predators didn’t stop to evaluate age prior to a kill and neither did Ansgar. In both instances, the kill put food on the table.

The taxi pulled into the parking lot of the hotel.

“Here’s good,” Ansgar said.

He tossed two twenties over the seat and got out. The cab pulled away, leaving him in the large parking lot, staring up at the hotel.

An Air Canada flight flew overhead as it prepared to land at the Toronto Airport. Ansgar followed it until his eyes stopped on the tenth floor of the hotel where he studied the window to his room. It was dark. That was a good sign. If the room had been taken over by the authorities, a forensics team would be scouring it into the night.

Ansgar eased backwards until he stood in the darkness between two towering parking lot lamps. Keeping to the less lit areas, he weaved his way toward the back of the parking lot and found a spot in the grass to sit where he had a good view of the front doors of the hotel. Anyone coming and going would use those doors.

The side of the building to his left had one exit door. A fence lined the back of the property. If Aaron’s team used that door to leave the hotel, they would have to hop the fence or walk into view.

Wherever they were, he would see them.
 

Then they would tell him how they found him and how they knew about the bombs. They would be happy to explain everything. Ansgar could be quite coercive.

Then he would kill them.

All of them.

Especially the girl.

That fucking girl.

He touched the gun in the small of his back.

The Clock sat back and waited for his kills to come to him.

In time.

Chapter 21

Anton Olafson got off the train in Aarhus and walked out into the late afternoon sun. It didn’t warm his skin. It did nothing to make him feel better.

Find someone that looks like Clara. Kill someone that looks like Clara.

What if he found a random girl, killed her, and then PAIN didn’t accept it? Would he have to kill again?

Why do it in the first place? Why was PAIN making him kill someone random? For his jollies? Was this something PAIN wanted to do himself but couldn’t? Was he some kind of demented voyeur?

Anton followed the crowd of people surging across the street toward Aarhus’ walking streets. He would hunt for a girl who walked alone. He would follow her and wait for an opportunity to catch her in a private area, away from curious eyes.

This evening, Denmark was celebrating Midsummer, the Burning of the Witch. All over Denmark, a fabricated witch would be placed atop a pile of twigs and shrubbery and then lit afire. Even though it was meant to remember the Lutherans who were persecuted during the 16th and 17th century’s religious wars, it had become something of an unintentional attack on women. Anton couldn’t think of a better day to murder a lost soul on the streets of Aarhus.

He had his cell phone in case PAIN tried to reach him. He had it to film the murder as well. Then he would appeal for Clara’s safe return and the destruction of the files that PAIN had hacked. Everything could still work out as long as he did his job.

After walking a few blocks along the shopping streets, he came to Salling, a large department store. Salling offered everything from cosmetics to clothing, groceries, and alcohol. Once inside, he rode the escalator to the lower level and headed to the liquor section near the back. They offered samples of their whiskeys for a prospective buyer, and today Anton needed a couple of shots of something hard.

The attendant, Bjorn, helped him with a taste of three different whiskeys before Anton explained that he would search out his wife and return to purchase the bitterer brand.

Lightheaded, he rode the escalator up to the second floor, then stood in line at the bakery to grab a pecan pastry before heading out onto the evening streets in search of someone that resembled his daughter.

He didn’t feel like himself. How could he have gone so far as to be walking the streets of the city he worked in, looking for a stranger to murder? It seemed impossible, yet he was prepared to do it.

He had made mistakes in his life. He would pay for them. That’s what justified this action. One kill. One payment. Clara set free. Life could go on. Worst case scenario, he would be jailed for the rest of his life for his crimes, but at least his daughter would be free.

The pecan pastry sated his small appetite as he headed toward the canal that ran perpendicular under the walking street. After an hour of watching pretty blonde girls, most of them with somebody else, he took a seat at one of the cafés along the canal and bought a cappuccino.

His phone had no messages. The hacker was silent. There were four days left in the PAIN PACT. That wasn’t enough time to do anything else but stay on course, and Anton intended to do just that. Although finding the right girl at the right time and in a quiet area posed a problem. Maybe he needed to stay in less busy areas. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way.

The cappuccino tasted great but cost a fortune. The café charged more for the convenience of being near the picturesque canal.

The sun mostly gone for another day, Anton paid the bill and headed back toward the train, dejected. His shoulders slouched, he walked along with the myriad of people heading this way and that, enjoying their lives, taking in the sights, oblivious to his mission.

A group of seven, four of them blonde girls in their late teens, walked up ahead of him. He listened to their banter about school and friends. At a safe distance, he listened while they discussed one particular person and how crazy that person was for wearing that stupid shirt to class. As the group passed the new Starbucks, three of them split away and said their goodbyes. Two of the blonde girls that looked the closest to Clara continued trudging along toward the train station with their other two companions. At the last street crossing, the foursome split up. Three entered the train station and one blonde girl headed left toward the Aarhus harbor.

Anton followed the girl. He stayed far enough back to not be noticed, but close enough to keep her in sight. He asked himself if he could really do it. How would he do it? With his hands around her throat? With the knife he had brought with him?

He chastised himself for not bringing the small vial of pepper spray he had at home. Pepper spray would incapacitate the victim enough for him to make the proper amount of lunges with the knife. He wasn’t a fighter and didn’t want to encounter too much resistance from his chosen kill.

The girl turned left on a street, checked over her shoulder, and then crossed the street.

Did she see me?

He slowed his pace, but kept her close. A sudden realization flashed into his mind.

I can’t do this.

He couldn’t harm the girl. She had a family waiting for her. A mother, a father. How could he end her life while people waited at home? What kind of monster could do that? Was he so selfish that he would murder someone else’s daughter so that his daughter could live?

He stopped walking. How could the hacker ask this of him?

Before taking his eyes off the girl, he watched as she dropped down a small set of stairs and entered a gaming store.

His prey was gone. Just like that. And with her, his hopes of getting Clara back alive.

But he had to do it. He just had to.

Maybe he could catch the train back to Skanderborg in time for the Burning of the Witch ceremony. It would be dark. Hundreds of people would be milling around, talking, and eating snacks from a local vendor.

There would be targets. They would be close to home.

Why didn’t he think of it before? They always burned the witch on the grass by the lake, just down from the library. It was a perfect place to drag an unconscious teen into the bushes and do the deed. He could be home and chatting with a neighbor before anyone found a body. Linking it to him would be virtually impossible with that kind of alibi.

Anton headed back toward the train station. He needed to be on the next train so he could get back in time to scope out the area, talk with the Skanderborg locals. There had to be a girl who looked just like Clara at the event.

Two blocks from the train station, he checked his watch. The train to Skanderborg would be leaving in four minutes.

He bumped into a young couple as he sprinted for the station.

He even ran through the red light as he crossed the street in front of the station.