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’.
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