The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (15 page)

Unless the client wanted out of the rest of the plan. If so, then cancel the deal and Ansgar would walk away. He would leave Clara in the room and leave Canada. As a PMC, the client would know how Ansgar dealt with the job details changing. He wouldn’t care as long as payment was still made.

To send an amateur martial arts store owner after him to rescue the girl infuriated Ansgar. The client would need a believable explanation or he would be dealt a consequence.

But before all that, once his nose was set, Ansgar would head back to the hotel. He needed to hurt Aaron. He needed Clara back so he could hurt her, ruin her, until the client explained what was going on.

The only leverage he had was in that hotel. If Aaron were still there when he returned, he would ask the right questions. Then he would kill him. Just as the client had asked of him when he blew up the dojo, Aaron had to die.

After that he would explain the new rules to the client. Rule number one was Clara would need to die too because the job was over. The client ended the job when he tried to fuck Ansgar over. The payment would be made in full or Ansgar would have to come after the client as well. He already knew who the client was and where the asshole lived in Toronto. Ansgar never worked for someone he knew nothing about.

As the taxi pulled into the hospital parking lot, Ansgar understood that he had been played for a fool by a group of punks.

When he was done with Aaron and those with him, each one would be dead. Especially that fucking girl who squeezed his nut sack. Before she died by his hand, he would take vise grips and squeeze her crotch until she bled to see how she liked it.

The taxi stopped. Ansgar paid the driver, got out, and headed into the hospital, eager to get this over with and back to the hotel.

He had too many people to kill and too little time to do it.

Chapter 18

Ben Wilson woke with a start. He jerked upright on his desk chair and bumped his knees against the edge of his desk. Rubbing his right knee where it hurt the most, he tapped buttons to wake his computer screens up as they’d gone to sleep, too.

Anton Olafson was right where he wanted him. The anticipation of a random Danish girl being killed on camera would be great footage for his game. Like a virgin on her wedding night, Ben anticipated the video Anton would send through within a day or two with bated breath.

Ben unwrapped the end of a Mars bar and bit into it. There were some days that was all he did. Eat Mars bars, sit at his desk, fall asleep in his chair, and manipulate lives. Like a god.

At first it was small stuff. Hacking Facebook accounts, screwing with the few friends he had. Then it got more serious when he hacked his mother’s bank account and transferred large sums of money to his own personal account. Before her death, she had no idea what he’d been up to. Hacking the account, transferring money, was something of his forte now. That was how he paid contractors like that ex-Navy Seal guy, Ansgar Holm.

Ben had always been money-centered. Even in high school, a few of his quirky friends got together with him and started a group called S.I.S.T., which stood for Students Invested Stocks Traded. The acronym sounded like the word
cyst
which was exactly what they were going for.

He had loved acronyms as far back as he could remember and used them as often as possible. Like his online moniker PAIN. It was much easier to approach the subjects who had to do things for him with a PAIN PACT than it was to say the Passive Aggressive Internet Nomad wants to enter into a Performance, Action, Commitment Transaction with you. People responded better to PAIN PACT.

He brought up the local news on the smaller screen to the left and browsed what the Toronto Sun newspaper was saying about the terrorist bombing of the martial arts dojo in Toronto. It took him a second to find anything on it as the police response at a nearby hotel was taking all the coverage. Fire department had been called out to the hotel, but it was a false alarm.

He checked the name of the hotel. It was the same one Ansgar was keeping Clara in.

“Shit wave,” he whispered.

His fingers danced over the keyboard as he checked several websites for more information. Contacting Ansgar directly would be a mistake if the authorities had his phone.

When he couldn’t learn anything new, he tried to hack into the hotel’s computers but was stopped. Then he tried the cameras on the street but saw only police cars in front the hotel.

He had to reach out. He had to see if Ansgar still had Clara. If they got arrested, that would put him in an awkward position. The last message Ansgar had sent to him was a picture of Clara bound and gagged on the hotel room floor.

Ben typed,
Are you still secure?

Then he waited.

One minute passed. Then another. With each passing second, his stomach got heavier and he started to feel that maybe he’d had too many Mars bars.

An image popped up to signify Ansgar was typing.

Ben released pent-up air and leaned forward, waiting to see what Ansgar said, his hands held in small fists.

Secure. Waiting for further instructions.

Ben typed back.
What about heavy presence at the hotel?

Pranksters. Nothing to do with us.

Ben lowered his head and breathed through his mouth for a moment. When he looked up, Ansgar had typed another message.

Too risky to stay here. Moving her. Will contact with new location soon.

“What?” Ben said out loud. “That’s not the deal.”

He typed furiously.

Stay put if the authorities are not there for you.

He waited. Five maddening minutes later came the reply.

You’re not calling the shots anymore.

Ben froze in his chair. After a moment, he wheeled it back and got to his feet, his legs shaking with adrenaline. The pain in his back minimal today.

“What has happened?” he said. “Shit wave, this isn’t right. No one ever talks to me like that. Never.”

He jumped back onto his chair and typed quickly, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. When he was done with Ansgar, the man wouldn’t know what hit him. Ben Wilson was basically off the map. He could do anything he wanted to people like Ansgar Holm without fear of retribution. Ansgar could never find him. No one could.

When he was done typing, he reread the message.

Then he hit send.

Ansgar would think twice before defying the man who controlled the fate of other men from behind a desk. They would all die for him, for his legacy game. Then he would have his retribution. After what the NC3 Director Anton Olafson did to him, he too would pay the ultimate price.

And with what Ansgar was trying to do, he too would pay.

In the end, Ben Wilson was a god simply collecting debts.

Debts owed the Devil.

Chapter 19

Sarah sat on the edge of the hotel bed holding Clara’s hand to comfort her. Clara leaned her back against the wall, her body scrunched up as if she was trying to stay as far away from the four men in the room as possible. Aaron paced the floor by the window. Alex sat in the chair tapping at Ansgar’s cell phone. Daniel and Benjamin stood on either side of the hotel room door taking turns looking out the peephole.

Sarah tapped the top of Clara’s hand.

“I assure you, everything’s okay now,” Sarah said in a soft tone. “No one will get to you. Soon, this will all be over and you’ll be able to go back to Denmark.”

Clara gave her a short, jerking nod of her head. The girl was frightened and it didn’t help that Sarah sat before her covered in Ansgar’s blood and in a red-wine stained shirt. She had to change her clothes as soon as she could. Leaving the hotel was out of the question looking like this.

The time on the bedside alarm clock warned her that she had just over three hours until her flight to Copenhagen began boarding. That left one hour in the room before she had to get to the airport to clear security.

Aaron stopped pacing. He looked like he was thinking about something.

“We can’t stay here,” Aaron said.

“Agreed,” Sarah added.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” Clara asked loud enough for Sarah to hear. “Who are you people?”

Clara spoke English with an accent. Not a harsh one, but enough to sound Scandinavian.

Sarah smiled warmly and softened her eyes. “We’re your friends.” She adjusted herself on the bed to look directly at Clara. “Tell us more about yourself. Why are you in Canada? How did you end up in that room with that man?”

Clara glanced past Sarah to look at Aaron, then back at Sarah. “It was a mistake.”

“How so?”

“I was playing months ago on my computer. Bored. And I joined a website that I shouldn’t have.”

Sarah resisted the urge to look at Aaron, but heard him moving. After a moment he stopped moving, probably because he took a seat.

“What website, Clara?” Sarah kept her voice soft, gentle.

Clara’s cheeks darkened with color. She looked away from Sarah.

“Plenty of Fish,” she mumbled. “I met a guy. He was into everything I was. Even quoted Shakespeare. When he suggested we meet, I agreed. He paid for the whole trip to Canada.” Clara shrugged. “What was the worst? I got to see Canada for free.” She regained some of her composure and tilted her head to look at Sarah. “So I came a few days ago.”

Sarah pointed at the door. “I think the worst was what just happened.” She let go of Clara’s hand and got to her feet. “What can you tell us about the guy you met online? Do you have an address? Where were you supposed to meet?”

“We were to meet in this hotel. I was to take a room that he’d set up for me. He hired a driver to pick me up. When he knocked, the password was the name of the website, Plenty of Fish. When that man said the name, I thought he was the driver.” She wiped her right eye. “I’ve made a terrible mess of things.”

“It’s okay, Clara. You’re safe now. None of the men here will let anything happen to you.”

“What I don’t understand is why you’re here,” Clara said. “No one knew I was in Canada. I didn’t even tell my dad.”

Sarah and Aaron exchanged a glance, then Sarah stared at the window for a moment, thinking about how best to answer Clara.

“Thing are all connected,” Sarah said. “Sometimes, it’s just fate that we met up.”

“How do you mean fate?” Clara asked.

Sarah faced her. “You know that building that blew up in Toronto?”

Clara nodded.

“That was his.” Sarah pointed at Aaron. “These three guys are his teachers. They were supposed to die in that explosion. Someone wanted to murder them. We traced it to the man who had kidnapped you. And we came to make things right. Our plan didn’t work the way we wanted it to, but we got you out of there. Now we wait for a few days and see what comes next.”

“But how did you know he was here?” Clara asked.

“Aaron met him before he tried to blow the place up. A friend of ours did a little research and came up with an alias. We tracked that man to this hotel. Benjamin rented this room and waited for us to get here.” Sarah extended her arms, palms up. “And here we are.”

Clara seemed to like that explanation.

Sarah walked over to Aaron, then looked down at Alex. She eyed Daniel and Benjamin by the door. “Guys, I have little time. I need clothes. Then you need to leave this hotel. There’s one across the street. Or try one farther away. But you need to lay low until I get back from Denmark.”

“Denmark?” Clara said from behind her. “Why are you going there?”

Sarah put her hands on her hips when she looked back at Clara. “What is your father’s name?”

“Anton.”

“Do you have a brother?”

Clara shook her head. “No, and my mother died years ago.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a horrible question, but I need the truth. Are you okay with that?”

Clara nodded.

“Do you know anything about boys being molested?”

Clara didn’t look surprised by the question. She just blinked, seemed to think about it for a moment, then shook her head.

“I know nothing of that stuff, except what I’ve read in the news over the years.”

Most of what Vivian wrote in the time capsule was coming together. Oaf and his son was Olafson, Clara’s last name. Her father was Anton Olafson. Aaron’s death had been averted. They discovered The Clock was Ansgar Holm and he was holding the Danish girl, the
blonde
Danish girl. Vivian said,
protect the Danish girl
, and that was what they were going to do.

Sarah still had to figure out what Vivian meant when she said Pain was behind everything and how Vivian said that if they were to stop Pain, then everyone would live. Her sister had added that even then, boys would continue to be molested.