“I’m afraid it is taken, monsieur.”
“What’s the next one?”
“The Royal Suite, monsieur.”
“Let me have a look,” demanded Sam, making his disappointment clear.
The clerk toyed with informing the guest it was €6,000 per night but thought better of it. He had pushed him far enough and Americans did not take kindly to being called on money.
“Concierge!” he shouted.
As the concierge arrived, he was given instructions to take the gentleman and his wife to see the Royal Suite. After a quick tour of the suite, which both agreed inwardly was unbelievable, they said it was just not up to the George Cinq standard and was frankly not good enough, so they left. In the meantime, Rebecca had secured the key from the concierge’s pocket and Sam had had an excellent look at Lawson’s security. Two large burly men were stationed at the door. But even better, Rebecca and Sam had been spotted and assessed as just other guests.
The plan was to come back a few hours later, around 3 am, just as the guards were beginning to wane and most importantly, the receptionist and concierge had both gone home.
At 3.05 they entered the lobby and made straight for the lift. Rebecca inserted the keycard and fortunately the top floor light lit up. Sam had been concerned that keycard would have been cancelled. As the lift doors opened, the two guards jumped to attention. They had been dozing in their chairs and visibly relaxed at the sight of Sam and Rebecca, two other guests and sat back down.
“Hey guys,” Sam said as he walked towards the two guards.
Sam Baker had studied many martial arts throughout his career in the military and had come to the very firm conclusion that some people could fight and others tried to fight. He could fight. Martial arts had simply honed his innate ability. As soon as the action started, time seemed to slow down for Sam. He noticed the slightest movements and could sense what his opponent was going to do almost before his opponent knew what he was going to do himself. No training in the world would give you that skill, you either had it or you didn’t. And Sam had it in spades. He approached the two guards who towered over him and where some would see threat and power, Sam saw slowness and awkwardness.
The first strike was easiest, the two guards had seen no threat, Sam was at least four inches shorter and over one hundred pounds lighter than each of the guards. As Sam neared, he calculated the distance to the millimeter and struck, driving his right foot up and into the bodyguard’s right testicle, as though it were a field kick from the 50 yard line. The guard crumpled. Any attempts to scream were soundless as the force of the blow drove every molecule of air out of the guard’s lungs. As the first guard was crumpling to a fetal position and fighting for breath, Sam was already driving a punch towards the second guard. As his right foot touched the floor, he delivered the first hit, timed to perfection. The energy of his motion transferred from left to right foot and then powering his body forward and towards the second guard, the punch connected and it was as though every ounce of weight and momentum from his move had concentrated within the 18 square inches of his right fist and into the side of the second guard’s neck. It was a stunning blow and the second guard’s knees buckled instantly as the trauma of the blow triggered a protective shut down of the guard’s nervous system.
As the first guard managed to catch his breath, his struggling attempts to call out were ended with a second blow. A well placed chop to the back of his neck ensured he would join the other guard in a rather deeper than normal sleep.
Rebecca had watched in awe and somewhat helplessly as Sam had, without any warning, launched the attack on the two guards. She had witnessed many fights in her time but never one so one-sided and impressive. She clapped silently in appreciation of his moves. Sam blushed at the praise and waved it away. Emptying the guards’ pockets, they found two compact Walther PPS’s, very thin and easy to conceal but still packing a 9mm round. Sam could only assume they were illegal. In any event, the odds had just improved significantly. They were armed and still had the element of surprise. Two down, two to go.
Rebecca finished searching the second guard and discovered one major problem. Neither guard had the room key.
The first option was to knock on the door. But there could be a code, two knocks followed by three or one knock then another two. The possibilities were endless. Rebecca looked at Sam for inspiration. He had just assumed the guards would have a key.
“Shit!”
“We’ll just have to knock and hope for the best,” offered Rebecca.
“Yep. Ready?”
Rebecca raised the Walter PPS and stood ready behind Sam.
“Go!”
As Sam raised his hand to knock, Rebecca suddenly remembered the keycard taken from the concierge. She grabbed Sam’s arm and inserted the card, the light turned green, it was a master keycard.
Sam opened the door silently and moved into the vast lounge area. The two guards sat with their backs to the door as they sat in front of the TV. From the position of their heads hanging limply, they were obviously sound asleep. Sam crept towards them, waving Rebecca to follow. It seemed these guys were even larger than the two at the door. Sam motioned for Rebecca to slide in behind the guy to the left, while he went behind the guard to the right. He mimed what he wanted to do. Rebecca shook her head. There was no way she’d manage if the guard woke up. But Sam insisted. She shrugged her shoulders and would give it a try. Unlike Sam, she kept the Walter PPS in her hand. If he moved, she would shoot, despite Sam’s protestations about not killing unless required.
Sam went first. His right arm slipped round the massive neck, locked with his left arm on the other side and he placed his left hand on the guard’s head for leverage. As the guard struggled to comprehend what was happening, Sam squeezed and pulled the guard’s head down. Between the slumber and the strength of Sam’s hold, the guard drifted into an unconscious slumber.
Rebecca, having about half the strength of Sam, was absolutely correct in her assumption that it was a ridiculous plan for her. As her arms took grasp, the guard woke up and easily dislodged her grip. Watching his colleague collapse, the guard spun towards Sam in a vain attempt to assist. Almost certain of her failure, Rebecca was ready, she grabbed the pillow and placing it in front of her pistol fired, the bullet caught the diving guard in the one part of his body she could see above the back of the sofa, his ass, the pillow muffling the noise. He screamed as he crashed into his unconscious colleague but despite the wound, he clambered up. This time, Rebecca aimed and heeding Sam’s words, shot the guard in the kneecap, eliciting an even greater scream but stopping him in his tracks.
An irate Lawson crashed through the bedroom doors to chastise his guards only to find Sam kicking the screaming guard in the head and Rebecca pointing the small pistol at him, with a finger instructing his silence which she obtained instantly.
As Sam’s kick knocked the fourth and final guard unconscious, he turned and admired the sight of Lawson as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. Sam left Rebecca to watch the three as he returned to the hallway and dragged the other two guards into the suite. Curtain-tie backs made excellent ropes and before long, the four guards were trussed up so well it was going to take Houdini to undo the knots. Meanwhile, not one word had been uttered and a rather panic-stricken Lawson awaited his fate, still blissfully unaware of who had just dispatched his very capable and expensive security. Finally, as he pulled on the final knot and elicited a satisfactory “humph” from his captives, Sam turned to Lawson.
“Mr Lawson, James Lawson?”
Lawson nodded his head. There was no point denying the obvious.
“I met an employee of yours recently,” said Sam menacingly. “He wasn’t very nice. In fact, he wanted to kill my brother!”
Lawson looked in horror as he realized he was staring at Charles Baker’s brother.
Lawson remained silent and Sam continued. “Obviously, I don’t take kindly to people trying to kill my family.”
Lawson, still silent, now looked at the wall rather than Sam.
“He’s dead. That’s how unkindly I take to people trying to kill my family.”
“Fortunately for him, he had nothing to do with the death of my wife and son!”
Lawson remained impassive.
“So his death was quick, relatively painless.”
