Running Stupid: (Mystery Series) (27 page)

“They’ll arrest us or probably hand us over to some corrupt fucker who will kill us,” Jester mentioned.

Charles nodded. “And we can’t run forever. Eventually they’ll catch us.”

“And when they do, they’ll kill us,” Jester added.

“And we can’t take this to the top. The people at the top are the people betting on whether you live or die; police chiefs, government officials – they’re all in on it.”

Jester nodded.

“But if we go after Fadel …” Charles allowed the sentence to trail off. Jester could see anxiety and fear in his eyes.

“It’s dangerous and there’s a fair chance we won’t make it,” Jester finished the sentence for him.

Charles nodded, pondered for a moment and then shook his head.

Matthew Jester turned his attention back towards the paper as a deathly silence of anticipation and apprehension hung in the air.

“Wow.” Jester shuffled on his seat. His backside had been moving closer to the edge as his body became more relaxed and tired, but now he straightened up, using his feet to push off the floor and sit upright. “Listen to this,” he said with a smile. “It’s an article about Fadel and Chambers.”

“What does it say?”

“They have a conference room booked at the Roosevelt Hotel in the city,” he exclaimed, his eyes flicking across the page. “Some leaked information suggests that Fadel, Chambers.” He skimmed through a few other names, blurring them into a ‘
blah
’ before picking up more words. “The CEO of CNN will be there as well.” Matthew looked across at Charles. They shared a moment of acknowledgement before Jester turned his focus back onto the paper. “A handful of the big billionaires all in the same room. It says that their sources suggest the room can hold up to one hundred people and it’s expected to be filled.”

“What else does it say?”

“Nothing,” Jester said blankly. “It’s just a little quirky article, some gossiping bullshit. A few billionaires getting together in the same room makes news I guess … you’re missing the point. This is our chance.”

At first Charles didn’t answer, his mind ticking through numerous thoughts before he spoke. “Okay,” he said with a nod of his head. “I’ll do it. Let’s go after Fadel.”

Jester grinned back. “You know the way?” he asked.

Charles nodded. “We can be there in two hours.”

“Excellent,” Jester noted. He gathered three more tablets from his pocket and popped them into his mouth. “Let’s go get this fucker,” he exclaimed after the chalky tablets worked their way down his throat.

***

A black limousine, glistening in the morning sunshine, cruised to a halt outside of the luxurious Roosevelt Hotel. When the engine fell silent, two well-dressed valets made their way over, one walking to the front of the car, the other to the back.

On opening the back door, the valet stepped aside, his posture straight and precise, his features unmoved. Out of the open door, a foot appeared. It hung above the floor, waiting until a second foot joined it, and then they both found concrete.

Ahmad Fadel stood and stretched next to the car door. Behind him the valet closed the door. The second valet had already swapped positions with the driver of the limousine. The engine started and the car was carefully manoeuvred to a secure parking lot.

In his right hand, Ahmad Fadel clutched a thick leather briefcase. On the front in gold letters were the initials TA. Hooked around the handle was a strong electronic lock.

“May I take your case, sir?” the valet ghosted to Fadel’s side. He held out his hand, his head lowered in respect.

“No,” Fadel said bluntly.

The valet nodded, turned and walked away. He stood by the front doors to the hotel.

Dennis Maloney and Mark Chambers both appeared inside the reception room. When they spotted him through the glass door, they walked outside to greet him. They both shook his hand. Maloney offered to take his case. Fadel accepted without a second thought.

Ahmad Fadel remained standing on the pavement outside of the hotel, his eyes scanning the exterior of the building, taking in every detail. He then turned his attention to the front door. Through it he could see a sparsely populated reception room.

“Let’s go,” he said.

They all made their way into the reception area. Dennis Maloney waved at the male clerk behind the check-in desk, who was arguing with a customer.

The clerk smiled at Maloney and winked in acknowledgement. The customer in front of him saw the pleasant exchanges and burst into a fit of angry arguing. The last words Ahmad Fadel heard as he left the room and entered the lift was, “If there is no room, why did you just let
him
in?” expelled from breathless and frustrated lungs.

Fadel smiled at the customer’s complaints and watched the buttons light up for the various floors. His room was on the eighth. There he would wash, dress, eat and relax. He had a long day ahead of him.

The two hours dragged by. Conversation in the car was limited; a thick cloud of anxiety and apprehension killed any desire to start a conversation. For the most of the journey, Jester’s head had been slumped against his left shoulder, his eyes lazily staring out of the window. Only the sound of the engine and the noise of the road broke the awkward silence. Every now and then, stopping at traffic lights or waiting for a line of school children to cross the road, Edinburgh would turn to Jester, utter a few words, receive a few mumbles in reply and then they’d fall silent.

A few miles from the hotel, Jester – after seeing it sign-posted – turned to the driver. “How are we going to do this?” he asked. They hadn’t discussed how they would get into the hotel and what they would do whilst inside.

Charles looked across at him, his face a picture of worry, his temple coated in cold sweat. “I … I’m not sure,” he stuttered.

“You okay?” Matthew asked.

“I’m fine,” Charles replied, faked composure in his voice. “Just a little worried, that’s all,” he explained, his eyes on the road.

“So what are we going to do?” Jester wanted to know.

Charles pondered on the question, his mind raking through the possibilities. “You want to get your hands on Fadel, right?” he asked.

“Of course,” Matthew said with a great deal of anticipation. “I want to rip that bastard’s head off.”

“Well, first we need to isolate him, get him on his own.”

“I don’t care if he’s on his own or not,” Matthew said.

Charles nodded slowly. “I don’t want to be around when you do it,” he said eventually, his voice timid.

“What?”

“If you’re going to kill him, I want no part. I’m not a murderer.”

“According to the paper, you are,” Jester smiled. “What about Chambers? Don’t you want a piece of him?”

“Possibly,” Charles said. “But I won’t kill anyone.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew agreed. “So, how are we going to do this then?”

“First we get to the hotel. We can take it from there.”

“We can’t just walk in,” Matthew argued. “They’ll recognise us.”

“If we do this quickly enough, it won’t matter if they see us or not. But just in case, you keep your face hidden and I’ll do the talking. I’ll book the room.”

“A room? Why do we need a bloody room?”

Charles thought about this before his answered. “We can’t just walk around the hotel without booking a room. They’ll get suspicious.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew shrugged his shoulders. “How are we going to get the guns in?”

“What guns?”

“In the back,” Jester hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “The machine guns we nicked from the assassins back at the cabin.”

Charles raised his eyebrows, a motion of shock or worry, Jester couldn’t decide. “Smuggle them in a bag,” he said after a long pause. “There’s a sports bag in the boot.”

Jester nodded, “Pull over,” he instructed. “We can do that now.”

He pulled over to the curb on an empty street, just next to a phone booth. Charles popped open the boot. Jester took out the sports bag and loaded the guns inside. He then climbed back into the front seat, the bag on his lap, the rimmed cap from the cabin owner on his head. “I can use this.” He tapped the rim of the hat. “If I keep my head down,” he lowered his head to demonstrate, the rim of the hat shaded his whole face, “I might get inside unnoticed.”

He picked up the newspaper from the back seat, spread it out in front of him and lowered his head again. “See,” he said. The view of his face was blocked by the newspaper. Anyone who looked over the newspaper to catch a glimpse of the reader would only see the rim of the cap.

Charles nodded, smiling. “It might just work,” he agreed.

“If not, I’ll take one of the guns, run to the conference room and gun down every fucker in there,” Jester said with a grin.

Charles laughed briefly, pausing when he realised Jester wasn’t joking.

***

They parked outside of the hotel at 10:10 a.m. Charles shut off the engine and looked across at Jester. “You ready?”

Jester nodded and they climbed out of the car. The cool morning air felt fresh on Matthew’s tired flesh.

“May I take your car, sir?” a valet appeared next to them, a smile on his face.

Charles dropped the car keys onto the valet’s open palm without looking at him. “Let’s go.” They both walked up the flight of concrete steps. At the top, they were greeted by a well-dressed doorman who opened the glass door to allow them through. When they stepped into the reception, Jester handed the bag of assault rifles to Charles and pulled out the newspaper, spreading it on a random page and ducking his face inside.

There were no customers inside, despite the many lounge chairs and coffee tables. Standing behind a bar at the far end of the room was a woman slowly cleaning a pint glass, her eyes riveted by the sight of the newcomers.

Charles walked straight up to the desk and, with his head held low, he asked to book a room. The man behind the desk didn’t even check the log book, and he never tried to determine the features of his new guests. “How long will you be staying?” he asked, his eyes wandering.

“Just one night, please.” Charles pulled a wad of cash, counted the correct amount, handed it over and received the key card to their room. As soon as it fell into his hand, he moved away from the reception desk, quickly thanking the man behind it.

“That was a lot easier than I expected,” Jester said as the pair entered the lift.

Charles didn’t reply. He reached out and poked their floor number. The doors slid shut and the lift jolted into action.

“Is it me, or is this place unusually empty?” Jester noted. When the man at reception had reached for their room key, Jester had peeked above the top of the newspaper and noted that the board which displayed all the key cards for all the rooms was nearly full.

“Probably something to do with Fadel,” Charles said. “Maybe he wants an empty hotel. Keep people out of his business and whatnot.”

Jester nodded, his mind running through that idea. His eyes flickered to the numbers displayed next to the elevator door. They flashed to indicate which floor they passed,
2, 3, 4
. Jester turned to Charles. “Then why did they let us in?” he wanted to know.

The number
5
lit up and a ‘
ping
’ melody sounded as the doors slid open.

“I’m not sure,” Charles said distantly as they left the elevator. They were in a corridor, lined with a plush, red and black patterned carpet. The walls, a delicate shade of red, were decorated with art prints of famous paintings from history’s finest artists.

The long corridor was flanked with doors, all of them numbered. The one they sought was the first room on the left, room
5A1
. Charles checked and rechecked the name plate above the door before swiping the card in the slot. A mechanical click sounded and the door unlocked.

He ushered Jester into the room, checked up and down the corridor and then walked through the door himself, locking it behind him.

“Nice.” Matthew dropped the bag onto the floor and began to explore the room ... cosy décor fused with modern furniture and kissed by the lips of luxury. The bed was a king-size four-poster covered in cream silk sheets that were devoid of any creases or offensive blemishes.

Across from the bed on a slick metallic stand was a forty inch LCD television, currently tuned in to a pay-per-view channel offering expensive films, porn and live sporting events at the touch of a button. At the back of the room was a walk-in wardrobe, its sliding doors painted silver, matching the space age finesse of the room.

“This is really fucking nice,” Jester said again. He walked through to the bathroom, separated by a sliding door. “They have a fucking Jacuzzi,” Jester shouted. “And …” he paused, “what the fuck is this?”

Charles frowned and walked into the en-suite bathroom.

“It’s a toilet for little people,” Jester said smiling.

“I think it’s a bidet,” Charles corrected, looking down at the ceramic object.

Jester shrugged his shoulders and left the bathroom. He sat himself down on the bed, found the remote control and tuned into a music channel. A half-dressed blonde girl danced alongside topless, muscular men, her movements provocative and sexy, her voice loud and full of energy.