Kaskey was also impressed. Regrette had a sharp and quick mind. He had to admire (while also be offended by) Regrette’s ability to read a person, their strengths and weaknesses. He shouldn’t be offended, it wasn’t personal. When Regrette was forming a plan; silly things like emotions and feelings went out of the window. And they were doing this on the fly. If Regrette was right then things weren’t as simple as they first seemed. If this hitman was here for Koleermeer then others also knew that he was defecting and were aiming to stop him. Gothra most likely, but, as Regrette had said, that would mean more than just a lone hitman. Who else, he had asked, would want to stop Koleermeer?
“Maybe they don’t, maybe it’s security. Either the Shen Mi or someone else making sure he doesn’t change his mind,” Regrette had said. “Could be anything, hence the plan we just came up with.”
“Right.”
Now Kaskey was walking up to Squavoon’s room dressed as a maintenance man. He had to be careful that no one saw his face and recognised him as a guest so he watched the carpet as if he was just minding his own business, trying to be invisible to the guests. Regrette had swiped a key card from somewhere, but security was tighter than just that. Without authorisation the card wouldn’t work and so Gulch was rerouting the systems to make it work. Then, according to Regrette, Squavoon would have his own little securities to protect things in his room (guns mostly), but also ways of detecting if someone had been in the room. That shouldn’t be a worry if everything went to plan as Squavoon wouldn’t have time to check them. Still, he was kinda worried about getting shot as he walked in. Or the card not working and getting busted by security. Though that was doubting Gulch and if they all had one thing in common, it was that they all trusted Gulch to get it done.
He approached the door and took a quick look up and down the empty corridor before inserting the key card and holding back a relieved sigh as the lock clicked. He pushed the door open slowly, and out of the way, in case there was some kind of booby-trap, but nothing happened.
The room was much like his own, a little hall with a bathroom through a door on the left and a wardrobe on the right. At the end, the corridor opened out into a room that contained a living room with a bedroom through a door on the left. If it was like his then the bedroom was small and filled with a king size bed, but the living area was a comfortable size with all the mod cons. The spa was all about comfort, after all.
The window was in the same place as his and he nipped over to it and opened it before hurrying back to the door. He stopped just before re-entering the corridor and looked back around. Should he have a snoop? What was he looking for? Anything to help tell them why the hitman was here. No. Anything he touched could be booby-trapped. Leave it to Regrette; get out before Squavoon came back. He walked back to the door and slipped out into the empty corridor. Regrette had warned him to keep radio silence while in the room in case Squavoon had listening devices. Once out he wanted to thank Gulch, but he waited until he was around the corner before saying a quick one. He was desperate to get rid of the uniform before he bumped into someone, but kept his pace even until he got to his room where he fumbled with the door and then fell inside.
“All good?” Regrette asked from an armchair with a Frosty Handok in hand.
“If you can break into my room, why not his?” Kaskey grumped.
“Do join me,” Regrette gestured to the other chair and produced another cocktail.
“Alright, but it better be properly frosted,” Kaskey said as he sat.
“And how would that be?” Regrette asked withholding the glass.
“Pour, chill, pour, chill, wait thirty seconds at room temperature, pour, freeze, chill, wait thirty seconds at room temp and serve.”
“Very good,” Regrette grinned as he handed over the drink.
“So?” Kaskey asked after having a sip.
“So as I told you, boy, I can’t risk being seen. Who knows who else is here?”
“Yeah, but they’d know you?”
Regrette thought about it for a second.
“He shouldn’t. No one should, should they? But within the hitman world we know each other. You need to network, just like any job.”
“You have weekend retreats to places like this?” Kaskey asked with a smile.
“More the type of places you’re used to.”
“Hey, man, you don’t know me,” Kaskey shot.
“Calm down, it wasn’t a jibe, boy. Mssh, but you’re touchy.”
Kaskey took another drink.
“Sorry.”
“Shut up. You get that window open?”
“I did.”
“Good. If anyone looks into it, you’ll be the last one in with a fully authorised check on a fault and you will have been seen leaving.”
“Alright, I better get changed,” Kaskey said and went to the bedroom.
“You got eyes outside, Gulch?”
“Ready when you are. Your man has left the masseuse and entered the lounge.”
“Then let’s put this plan into action,” Regrette said and stood. “Into the shadows!” he whispered.
He walked over, slid the window open and jumped out.
***
If there was something that you felt around Regrette, it was that he could kill you then and there; however he wanted, whatever the situation. Kaskey couldn’t feel totally comfortable around him and he wondered if the others did. Tsyrker would, she would be a match for him. Grant? Yeah probably, though Kaskey didn’t think Grant would be a match for Regrette. Then again, he didn’t think Regrette would dare. There was something of respect, or awe, that Regrette held for Grant. What about Gulch? He would remember to ask, but for now he had another issue.
He had the same feeling being in the same room as Squavoon, but maybe that was because he knew he was a hitman. Either way, it wasn’t as strong as with Regrette. He didn’t think Squavoon was on the same level as Regrette, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.
They were in one of the lounges, here the televisions were all tuned to the cricket (it being an important test match) and Squavoon had one eye on a TV and one on a newstablet. He was relaxed, but aware; chilling with intent. His target wasn’t here yet so he could relax, but Kaskey guessed a hitman never really relaxed. What Kaskey was more worried about was whether he was armed. Regrette had said yes, but nothing to worry about, which wasn’t helpful. He’d then pointed out that a good hitman didn’t need to be armed to kill you, which helped even less.
He wandered over and The Hustle took over.
“Even in a place like this, business never stops,” Kaskey said.
“What?” Squavoon asked sharply, looking up.
Kaskey took a seat.
“One eye on the cricket and one on the news,” Kaskey nodded to the tablet.
“Don’t sit down,” Squavoon said.
“Already am,” Kaskey smiled innocently. “Kalatin’s the name.”
Squavoon ignored the outstretched hand and Kaskey smoothly retracted it.
“You’re not making this easy. How’re we supposed to network, man?”
“We’re not.”
“Shabbus, but you’re bad at this,” Kaskey sighed.
“I told you I’m not interested in your networking.”
“Not that, your cover.”
Squavoon’s eyes narrowed and he slowly set the newstablet down.
“You’ve got me confused with someone else.”
“Seems to me you’ve got yourself confused, man. Places like this are more business than relaxing, you can’t sit there and not network, it makes you look out of place. And you don’t want that, do you?”
“I’m just here for my health,” Squavoon said.
“Now that’s more like it,” Kaskey grinned. “But a little too late.”
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“You’re Squavoon and you’re out of your depth,” Kaskey said seriously.
“Who are you?”
Kaskey lau
ghed.
“What? Did you win your hitman badge in a box of cereal? C’mon, man.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you gone.”
Squavoon smiled a little and relaxed back into his seat.
“No. You’re obviously out of your league if that’s what you want.”
“What you’re not considering is that I’m telling you because I’m out of your league.”
“My boss…”
“I don’t give a shabbus about your boss,” Kaskey hissed. “You understand me? You’re out.”
This set Squavoon back. He tried not to tense up in his seat and only failed a little. This was not how it was supposed to go. He’d never been hired by such a big hitter as for this mission and it was his ticket up. It also meant that failure was not an option. There would not be a place in the Universe that he could hide. So he had to take this guy out. Well, that he could do, there was a reason they’d hired him for this job. Right?
“You won’t see me again,” Squavoon said standing. He liked it, the veiled threat that he didn’t think this monkey would understand.
“I better not. You’ve got ten minutes to be packed and gone. This ain’t personal, just professional, man.”
Squavoon merely nodded. He couldn’t top that ‘you won’t see me’ line. He walked out of the room.
***
“Have you seen this?” Regrette asked.
Squavoon stopped in his tracks. The room was lit and it wasn’t the monkey from earlier sitting in one of the comfortable chairs with the cricket playing silently on the TV. This was a Human. He could sense the danger coming off of him, nothing like from the monkey and it was at that point Squavoon knew he’d been duped into coming here.
Regrette held up a booklet.
“‘Famous Gangsters and Hitmen of the Universe’ by someone called Coblidge. Never heard of him, but pleasingly I’m in here. You are not.”
“I’d heard someone was putting together stories,” Squavoon moped.
“Do come and sit down,” Regrette flourished a hand at the other chair.
“So you’re in there,” Squavoon pushed, trying to get some kind of hold on the situation. “Can I see?”
“You want to play a guessing game? You must be smart enough to know that you don’t want to know who I am.”
He was right. If Squavoon knew who he was then he was dead. There was a good chance he was dead anyway, but if he knew nothing then there was always that sliver of hope. Of course his best course of action would be to take this man out.
“I’d say ‘don’t even think about it’, but you already have. Mssh, you don’t stand a chance, so don’t bother,” Regrette said putting away his little booklet.
“Kwaydo’s in it,” Squavoon said.
“He is and he’s a lesson to us all,” Regrette nodded.
“What do you want?”
“Information.”
It was a stupid request, no hitman gave away his or her mission brief. But he reflected on what the monkey had said about being out of Squavoon’s depth. There would be no saying ‘no’ to this man.
“Well that puts me in a difficult position.”
“And this looks like my ‘I care’ face, does it?”
“You know we don’t tell on our missions.”
“Missions?” Regrette chuckled. “That’s sweet. I already know enough, I just want details. And you, my little upstart, are going to give them to me.”
CHAPTER 32
Grant sat at a little street restaurant; a cart with all the cooking amenities and seven tables with four stools a piece along the pavement. Each table was full and there were people waiting. That was how good the food was and why you never went to a proper restaurant in Bangkok. Restaurants would be ten times the price and the food would be as good as it was on the street. This food stall specialised in Khao Man Gai, boiled chicken with the rice cooked in the chicken broth and was absolutely more divine than the description allowed.
It was getting dark and he knew that the person he wanted to see would be opening up shop right about now. Well, I say ‘wanted’, but Grant didn’t want to see this person at all. But it was the one person he knew who might have information of a meet happening.
He finished his meal and wandered off towards the Skytrain. The Skytrain was an overhead train that ran throughout the city with a large exchange station among the expensive malls of Siam Square. It was here that he changed lines and travelled out to Asoke station on Sukhumvit Road. Soi Cowboy was a gaudily lit side road off of Sukhumivit that contained numerous bars of whores, dancers and dancing whores. Patpong was the tourist friendly red-light district with its famous night market running through the middle, but this was where the real sleaze was. Every bar had outdoor seating from which girls called to men to come and join them, buy them a drink etc. and Grant didn’t look left or right, didn’t listen. Instead he became lost in a memory.
***
He’d tracked a lead in his spare time, the case was officially cold and he and his partner had been reassigned. He took a week off and flew to Grarnac and the red light district there. It was a lot like the one he was walking through, but with more races. Everywhere the atmosphere was of a party; everyone was happy and having a good time, but underneath was the stench of desperation, the vibe of desolation.
She’d been here, that was the lead. A bar with a private area in the back for those with younger tastes. Of course the bar staff had denied such a room existed and when security came over to escort him out he used one of their heads to open the secret door.
She wasn’t there though and instead of being praised for breaking the ring open to investigation he was dragged over the hot coals by his supervisors for being a renegade.
***
He snapped out of his revelry as he reached the bar. It was a smaller one, squeezed between two large bars, but it had a nice outdoor area and was doing a brisk trade.
“Ahh, you nice man, you come sit with me,” a girl took his arm.
“I’m here to see your boss,” Grant said.
“I am de boss,” she smiled and tried to guide him to a chair.
“Not tonight,” he pulled his arm free and walked to the door.
The inside was not as nice as the outside, but dingy and sleazy, fitting the clientele. Joy was still behind the bar, which took up the whole left-hand wall of the room. He didn’t know how old she was, but she certainly wasn’t getting asked to a short time hotel by any of the patrons. She looked at him and a look of fear, disgust and disappointment crossed her face. Sort of like this. That would have been better if you could see my face. Anyway…
“Grant,” she said slowly.
“Joy,” he smiled.
“Don’t smile at me.”
“I wasn’t smiling at you, I was smiling with you.”
She just gave him a look to say ‘get on with it’.
“Go on then, just let me through.”
“Poompooey’s busy.”
“I can only imagine. Let me through.”
“Just wait here, would you?” she sighed. “I’ll go and tell him.”
“I’m assuming you don’t want any trouble.”
She gave him a look that said ‘as if you can give me trouble’. She was good at looks. Very expressive. Except for joy, which was ironic.
He took a seat and was automatically flanked by two girls.
“You want to buy me a drink?” the left one asked.
Fasido Minor, that’s where she came from judging by the inflection in her accent. He nearly said it, but that would be mean. A reminder of where she had been taken from. It burned him that he wasn’t here to send her home and he remembered Haffir and what he had said about saving all the girls and boys in all the casinos. You couldn’t save them all and if he tried to save these girls he would lose the Desards. And he remembered what Hounsards had said. That if he found Maggie Desard then he’d find a lot of missing people. Well. He already was.
“I’m
here on business,” was what he said instead.
“Alright, come on through,” Joy said with very little of her name in either her face or voice.
Grant got up and followed her through a door at the back of the room. They went past a couple of doors in a thin corridor and up a surprisingly nice flight of stairs.
“You know the way,” Joy said and let him squeeze past her.
“Pleasure as always,” Grant smiled as he passed.
She just grunted and headed back down.
The upper floor was nicer than the downstairs and split into rooms with sturdy looking doors. He walked past them all to the end and knocked on the door before opening it.
“Well, well, Benjamin Grant,” a rotund, balding Human smiled from behind a scarred wooden desk.
“Protus,” Grant nodded.
“Come sit. Not on official business are we? No jurisdiction here.”
“I retired.”
“Yes, of course, I did hear something about that,” he looked down at the desk in thought as he said it and then looked up with a bright smile. “So what can I help you with?”
“I want to know about a meet.”
“Now, Grant,” Protus’ face darkened, “you know I won’t tell about my clients.”
“Earthens banging aliens? You think I want to know about that?”
“Well what then?”
“Someone meeting with Shen Mi.”
“Ooh,” he sat back with a smile. “You’re really retired?”
“I am.”
“Come now, Grant, do sit.”
He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to be even vaguely comfortable in the presence of this man. He wanted to punch him in the face and drag him before a firing squad. But then he felt like that in front of most criminals. Especially those that worked in the sex trade.
Protus took girls from around the Universe and, for a small fee, kept them on Earth. The one thing about Earth, the reason it had so many spas, was that spending time in it’s atmosphere was very good for the health. Rejuvenating even. Some said that a week there added a year to your life. It often worked out easier and cheaper to send girls and boys to Protus than to kidnap or buy more, especially if they were popular. It was the same for what-could-be-generously-called entertainers in the same field. Protus, of course, set them to work while on Earth to earn himself some extra cash. He was filthy and greedy and the type of person Grant had dedicated his life to wiping out. But as the man said, he had no jurisdiction on Earth back then and he certainly didn’t now.