Not bothering to wait for an answer, he threw the man to the ground and planted a heavy kick in his ribs. The gangster grunted and groaned with pain, but after a few moments he struggled to his feet and hobbled away, staring all the while at the hulking figure of Hrothgar – and his tanto – with trauma-wide eyes. One of the guards outside grabbed him and hauled him away, while more came in to drag the unconscious gangsters out of the room.
Adriana, caught in the grips of a fear and panic that was debilitating in intensity, crept back against the wall, her eyes fixed on Hrothgar. Roxana too was staring at the huge man with her mouth hanging open with shock and her eyes protruding from their sockets with fright.
‘I’m sorry sir, it wasn’t me,’ Adrian blurted out, her voice shaky. ‘He was trying to force me, I swear sir—’
‘Shut up Storm,’ Hrothgar growled. ‘I don’t give a fuck. There are more important things to worry about right now.’
He tucked the tanto into his belt as two more men, who were much smaller than the Nordic giant, entered the room. Both were Chinese, and both were extremely well-dressed, attired in subtly coloured, expertly tailored suits. One looked to be in his eighties at least, and he walked on frail limbs with the aid of an ornately carved cane. He was a short and slightly built man, and what wisps remained of his thin white hair was meticulously styled in a businessman’s side parting. His much younger companion, a stocky and powerfully muscled fellow who was perhaps in his forties, sported a buzzcut and wore an earpiece in his right ear. He had the cauliflower ears, oft-broken nose and scarred eye rims of a seasoned fighter, yet he was elegantly dressed and carried himself with the air of an aristocrat, as did the older man, whose small milky eyes, nestled within thick folds of liver-spotted skin, burned with an unsettling fire that belied his age.
The younger man studied the room for a few moments, staring at the blood smear on the wall, the chewed-up human ear on the floor, and the splatters of blood all over the carpet. His expression did not change.
‘Had a little incident in this room, I see?’ he commented, his English flawless.
‘Nothing for you two to concern yourselves with,’ Hrothgar answered coolly. He then walked over and gripped Roxana by one of her arms. His touch was uncharacteristically gentle, but the promise of violence lingered in his fingers. ‘This is the teenage virgin we’ve been keeping for the highest bidder, but she is all yours if you care to take her, Mr Ma,’ he said in a subdued tone. ‘This other one is also a virgin, but I assume she is a bit too … old for your tastes.’
The stocky bodyguard, Mr Wang, translated Hrothgar’s English into Mandarin Chinese for the geriatric, Mr Ma, who looked Roxana up and down with an almost reptilian gaze. He contemplated this for a while and then nodded with approval.
‘I will see to all the arrangements myself, immediately,’ Hrothgar said. ‘I will have the presidential suite prepared, and I will have the girl washed and perfumed and sent up there. I assure you, she will be completely compliant with any requests you may wish her to entertain.’
The old man glared with pure venom in his eyes at Hrothgar, and then performed a few gestures in sign language. Mr Wang interpreted these and spoke to the big man in an icy, almost accusatory tone.
‘Where is Sigurd? Mr Ma was hoping to see him to discuss a few items of business.’
Adriana could see that Hrothgar was forcing his politeness through a barely veiled storm of hatred and loathing, but this old man obviously commanded some sort of monumental power and influence; enough even to make this enormous brute cower before him.
‘I apologise for his absence, but he is away on business concerns. Procuring more flesh for this particular venture, if you understand me.’
Mr Wang translated this for Mr Ma, who seemed unhappy about this, but nodded nonetheless, still wordless in his communication. As the old man turned to leave the room, however, Mr Wang’s phone rang. Mr Ma indicated with a wrinkled finger that he should answer it. When Mr Wang took the call, he spoke in English. Adriana pricked her ears, trying to piece together the conversation, all the while creeping surreptitiously over to Roxana, whose hand she took and gripped tightly in her own.
‘What were they talking about, Adriana?’ Roxana whispered in Romanian, her voice coloured with terror and desperation. ‘They’re going to do something to me, aren’t they?’
Adriana could not find the words to comfort or reassure the girl, so she merely gripped her little hand tighter and pulled her into a close embrace while Hrothgar was distracted by Mr Wang’s phone call.
‘So, you say that William Gisborne is alive then?’
Adriana’s attention was immediately drawn to Mr Wang’s conversation. The Japanese woman had told her to listen carefully for the name ‘William Gisborne’, and here it was. She listened intently as he continued speaking.
‘What do you mean you’re not sure?! What?! Well was there a body or not? No?! Then he is still alive, you idiots! Mr Ma will not be pleased about this latest failure, I can assure you of that. Get back on Gisborne’s trail immediately! If he escapes New York alive, we’re back to square one. I’ll have all of your heads if that happens, and you know that that is no idle threat. Now get on with it!’
Mr Wang shoved the phone back into his pocket and then explained the situation to Mr Ma in Mandarin.
