The man swiped the keycard through the electronic slot and heard the whirring of the lock opening up. He stepped inside and slid the keycard in the slot. The room lit up. He saw the aluminum case resting on the bed. He opened the wardrobe and saw the line of tailored suits, shirts still in their plastic covers with the tag still hanging off them. He pulled open the drawers and smiled as he ran his fingers over the rolled ties and boxes of cufflinks. He kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, stripped and entered the bathroom.
As the hot water sprayed from the shower, he watched the blood run down his body and swirl around the drain. He lifted his head to feel the hot water fall on his face. The tears got swept away with the hot water as his fingers circled his chest where the chain usually lay on his neck. The place he had earmarked to tattoo the tombstone inscriptions of his loved ones the day he retired. He turned the knobs, pulled the towels off the shelf and dried himself. He walked barefoot to the bed where the aluminum case rested. The case was protected with a three digit number lock. He turned the dials and clicked open the case.
He surveyed the contents, a capped syringe with Ricin, flashlight, dissembled Berretta model 70 with .22 caliber long range bullets - the model known around the world as the terminator used by the Mossad, with a spare magazine and a digital camera with encrypted software for the man to send over evidence of a job done to his superiors. The man quickly and efficiently assembled the handgun and loaded the magazine. Having laid all the instruments of death he would need in the next twenty minutes, he walked over to the wardrobe.
Seven minutes later, he walked stealthy across the carpeted corridor, as he screwed in the silencer over the muzzle of his Berretta. He stood by the side of room 614 and knocked gently, just as room service would. In his right hand he held the berretta and in his left he held the card key to the room. He heard the muffled sounds of footsteps approaching the door. He could feel the partial weight of a body leaning against the door to peer through the peephole. This was the moment the man was waiting for.
Two swift pulls of his index finger on the trigger.
He quickly swiped the key card and pushed against the dead weight behind the door. He hurriedly surveyed the room, the bathroom, the balcony and the wardrobe. He found the laptop resting on the study table. He flipped over the laptop, pulled a Philips screwdriver from inside his jacket pocket and swiftly removed the hard disk from the laptop’s innards.
He clicked the required pictures on the digital camera, logged on the hotel Wi-Fi and sent them half across the world.
He closed the door behind him and hung the ‘Do Not Disturb Sign’. Intel suggested that his body wouldn’t be found till Thursday.
The man put the safety on the gun, tucked it in his shoulder holster and entered the elevator.
He asked for the Hotel Concierge and instructed him where the laptop hard disk needed to be delivered. He then collected the keys and the valet ticket for his ride from the reception desk.
He sighed and chuckled to himself as the valet bought the car to gate. It was a dinky little car colored bright neon pink, which the locals called as ‘Tata Nano’.