The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (24 page)

Alex easily ducked out of the way of Ansgar’s swipe, jumped sideways, pushed off the wall to gain height, and landed on Ansgar’s back. Ansgar was a large man, muscular and thick compared to the lithe Alex. But Alex knew pressure points and how to cripple a man with his fingertips, no matter what the man weighed or how much he could bench press.

The second Alex had landed on Ansgar, the man rushed backwards toward the wall. Alex seemed to have a grip on the man’s neck but whatever he was going for was too little too late. Ansgar grunted and his left side slanted downward as he smashed into the wall. Alex was sandwiched momentarily between the large man and the wall.

Powerless to help, Aaron watched as Ansgar snapped his head back barely missing Alex’s face. Then Ansgar rammed elbow after elbow into Alex’s abdomen as he held him pinned against the wall by shear force.

As fast as it started, it was over. Ansgar jumped away from the wall. Alex crumpled to the floor, rolled sideways, and hopped behind the curtain again.

Other than grunts, they fought without a word.

The intense pain flared in his crotch as Aaron tried to get to his feet.

Ansgar tracked Alex with the Glock in his hand that was aimed at the curtain.

Aaron leaned against the bed, halfway to a full standing position. A pffft sounded from the Glock as a bullet exited the silencer. The curtains kicked up where the bullet hit.

Ansgar shot at the curtains again.

From his side of the room, Aaron saw Alex jump onto the small balcony of the tenth floor hotel room. There was no escape for Alex.

Aaron made another feeble attempt to get to his feet. He lunged for Ansgar to stop the madness, but was batted away by the man’s forearm as he moved left and looked out at the balcony.

Ansgar raised his gun and aimed it at Alex.

In the time it took to blink, Alex flipped upside down and disappeared over the railing of the balcony.

Ansgar stomped onto the balcony and looked down. He returned a moment later.

“Looks like your friend didn’t have wings after all.” Ansgar shrugged. “Oops. So much for your guardian angel.”

Chapter 33

Anton Olafson made it to the small window by the door and stopped when he saw who had knocked.

It wasn’t the police. It was a man and he was alone.

“Yes?” Anton moaned through the locked door. “What cause would you have to knock on my door and wake me at this horrid hour?”

The man jolted at the sound, then leaned down to the window and tried to peer inside but the clouded glass around the front door made that impossible. Anton was shrouded in darkness on the inside yet there was enough light for him to see the man on the stoop.

“Open up,” the man said. “Police.”

“Bullshit,” Anton shouted. “A Danish cop with an American accent. Fuck off. Go bug one of my neighbors.”

Anton slipped back behind the front wall so his silhouette wouldn’t show through the clouded glass. He waited for some indication that the man would leave, but heard nothing.

“I know it was you,” the man said. “Open the door. Talk to me or talk to the police.”

Anton didn’t respond. Maybe the man would think he had gone back to bed.

“You walked past me before you sprayed those two girls with pepper spray. Your name is Anton Olafson.”

He gasped and covered his mouth with a hand. Who was this man and how did he know so much? Anton almost said something, but decided not to. He chanced a look at the guest room door to make sure the girl hadn’t untied herself.

“Anton, open the door. Your daughter is safe. But she won’t be for long.”

My daughter?

How did this man know about Clara?

He chanced a peek around the corner of the wall. The man stood outside the door, unmoving.

Did the hacker send him? Had he been following him? To what end? Anton had the girl in the other room. He was prepared to murder her tonight for Clara’s freedom. Did he have to perform this horrendous deed or was it over?

“Why won’t my daughter be safe for long?” Anton asked before he could stop himself.

“If you hurt a single hair on the girl you have in your house, Clara will never make it home. I personally guarantee that. Now open the door so we can discuss this.”

His stomach dropped. Sweat slipped down his spine. The hacker gave him instructions to protect Clara. He was following those instructions. Now a strange man was at his door telling him the opposite. Was he the correct one? Should the girl in the other room be let go? If so, what was Anton basing that on? The hacker saw the photos in his computer. The hacker knew about Damien’s arrest and Anton’s indiscretions in Aarhus. The hacker lured Clara from Denmark without his knowledge. As far as Anton was concerned, he would stick to the plan that he and the hacker had worked out. Whoever this man was and what he knew meant little to Anton. Let him spew his bullshit. When he stepped away from the stoop, Anton would carry on with what he set out to do.

He wiped his hand on his pants, then ran one through his thinning hair. He stopped his hand near the back of his head and scrunched up a batch of hair, pulling until the pain soothed him. His eyes glazed over.

What had he gotten himself into? There was no escaping this. A part of him knew that from the beginning. He had gone forward anyway. For Clara. Everything was for Clara.

Save Clara.

“Open the door, Anton,” the man said as he knocked again. “I know you have Sarah. Is she unconscious? Is she still alive?”

Anton slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He would listen until the man left. Once he departed, Anton would film the murder of the girl with or without the hacker on a live feed. If he didn’t do it soon, he would lose the nerve.

“I know she’s not conscious,” the stranger said. “If she was, you wouldn’t’ve answered the door. She would have.”

He drew his legs up and rested his head on his forearms. The man was silent for a few moments. Anton waited for more.

He knocked again, this time lighter.

“I will return with the police. I hope you’re hearing me, Anton. I know you have Sarah in there and she would never go quietly. For your sake, I hope she’s just sleeping.” The sound of boots on the front steps resonated through the door. “I’ll be back with the authorities.”

Sarah Roberts?

Had he heard that name before? Did he know the girl?

What did it matter who she was? Her life was over. A trade. Sarah’s life for Clara’s life.

Anton rose from the floor, slapped his hands together to brush them off, and shrugged.

“Sarah Roberts, whoever you are, will be dead in under five minutes.” The thought of saving his daughter with this one act made him feel heroic. “I thank you for your service to my family.”

Anton Olafson went to get his cell phone to record the murder and a small mirror. He was going to give the hacker all the proof he needed.

The consequences would come later.

He would deal with them then.

Save Clara.

Chapter 34

Ansgar Holm slipped his Glock into the back of his pants and strode over to Aaron. These stupid kids thought they would get the jump on him, a man with a long service record. A body-building, hand-to-hand combat veteran that now hired out his services as a private military contractor.

The pathetic face of their leader, Aaron, looked up at him with something akin to poison in his eyes.

Ansgar pulled his foot back and kicked Aaron in the side of the face, knocking the kid’s head into the bed post. Aaron’s head bounced once off the carpet and his eyes fluttered, then shut. He moaned something, then tried to open his eyes again. A faint trickle of blood oozed from his mouth.

Ansgar was sick of playing these schoolyard games. He needed answers before he left the hotel for good. With the gunfire earlier and the dead kid on the ground who had just jumped from the tenth floor balcony, the authorities would be roaming the area soon because the clerk downstairs had called them about the airport van.

In the corner by the bathroom door, Ansgar grabbed the clothes iron and added water to it. He plugged it in and waited, watching Aaron as he tried to get up off the floor.

The man was missing a finger. The loss looked recent the way the ragged stump appeared.

“How’d you lose the finger?” Ansgar asked.

“A dead man thought he could use it to buy something.” Aaron rolled onto his back and sat up, using the bed to rest his back against.

“A dead man did that?”

“No, stupid. He died because he did it.”

“Is that a warning? Are you telling me that I’ll be dead for what I’m doing to you?” Ansgar glanced at the iron. “Or what I’m going to do to you?”

Aaron moaned when he touched the cheek that had swollen. He wiped the blood from his chin.

“I’m not part of the equation,” Aaron said. “You’re dead regardless of what has happened or will happen. It has nothing to do with me.”

Ansgar barked out a laugh. “You’re quite the asshole. Threatening me when I hold the cards.” He clucked his tongue. “This’ll all be over soon and I will go on to another job. When I do, I will think back to you and smile. At least you had balls. Can’t say that for many of the people I kill.”

He unplugged the iron, pulled out the Glock and walked over to stand in front of Aaron. With his foot, he drew the side chair closer and sat. The Glock never wavering, he set the iron on the carpet and kicked his shoes off. Then he removed one of his black dress socks and balled it up.

“Where’s the girl I had in my possession?” Ansgar asked, balled sock in one hand, Glock in the other.

Aaron shrugged.

“Where’s my cell phone?” Ansgar asked.

Aaron tilted his head toward the balcony. “He had it last.”

Ansgar didn’t like Aaron’s smart attitude. When he finished him off, he would burn the attitude out of him.

He glanced at the iron, then back to Aaron.

“How did you find me here in this hotel?”

Aaron met his gaze. In his eyes, Ansgar saw defiance mixed with a tinge of hatred.

“How did you know I was going to kill you at the dojo? Since you knew, why didn’t you try to stop me?”

“Fuck your mother,” Aaron said. “I fucked her and wouldn’t do it again. She’s an ugly, dirty skank.”

Ansgar jammed the balled sock into Aaron’s mouth, forcing it in as Aaron squirmed under the pressure by placing the Glock at Aaron’s neck.

“I will shoot you in the throat,” Ansgar whispered.

Then the sock popped into Aaron’s mouth, forcing his jaw to its limits.

With his free hand, he grabbed the iron and raised it over Aaron’s right forearm. It had cooled some since it was plugged in, but was definitely hot enough to burn flesh.

Their eyes locked. Ansgar was reminded of a Taliban sympathizer he’d tortured in an underground hideout using a metal rod heated in a fire. That man’s eyes looked like Aaron’s. He knew the pain was coming and he knew it would be a lot of pain. What was most important was he knew that he was powerless to stop it.

Ansgar pressed the iron onto Aaron’s flesh and leaned into as Aaron screeched with pain behind the balled-up sock.

The acrid smell of hair and burning flesh stunk up the hotel room. He pulled the iron off and Aaron slumped onto the carpet, writhing with the pain.

Outside, the sound of police sirens wailed in the distance.

Aaron had to be convinced to give him the answers he needed faster. Once Aaron was dead, he would hunt Aaron’s teachers from the dojo. They had seen his face. They knew who he was. He would retrieve that Danish girl and kill them all. He was on a mission. The amount of fuck ups were too high. It was time to clean up the mess and move on.

He lowered the iron and seared the flesh of Aaron’s other arm to the wonderful sound of Aaron’s muffled screams.

The man would talk. Ansgar would burn the answers out of him.

Or he would die a silent idiot.

Either way, it mattered little to Ansgar. The torture was the reward. He loved someone else’s pain. There was great enjoyment wading through the levels of pain in others.

Combat taught him that.

Chapter 35

Anton Olafson was ready. The hacker had not responded to his text, so the live feed wouldn’t happen. He would record the event and send the hacker the video.

His cell phone battery was at fifty-three percent. Plenty of juice to film the few minutes he would need to kill the girl. He had a couple of small mirrors, but chose to go with the circular pocket mirror he had found in Clara’s bedroom.