Empty Gold

Chapter Four:

"How are you feeling?" Clayton said.

The tension still uneasy as Clayton sat next to him in the spare chair next to the couch, stretching his legs out.

The sounds of the news reporter alongside neighborhood noise filled the uncomfortable silence between them.

"I almost lost my life for you Clay," Clayton uncomfortably shuffled in his seat as Sam continued, "I've been thinking that this is going to be my last job Clayton. After this transaction, as soon as we capture or kill Richard for whoever. I'm done. I've informed Claudia. I'll be moving back to California, to settle down. It's time to see my daughters and my folks. It's been a while,"

Sam full attention was now on Clayton. They were breaking up...like the fucking Beatles.

He couldn't say anything, but Clayton completely understood Samuel's decision. He was thinking the same way, especially after Alice.

Clayton wanted a life with her, maybe settle in Jamaica, in a one bedroom hut on the beach. Cotton shirts. Bottles of rum. Getting high, Alice sunbathing. Topless, oh, he would insist on that,

Clayton continued, pushing his pipedream to the side for now.

"I understand Sam. Completely. It's time to disband. Ruth and Daniel want the same thing, I'm pretty sure of that. We will discuss terms later with Claudia when we get back Stateside."

Samuel breathed a sigh of relief. Resting his head down on the armrest.

"We good?" Clayton said over to him.

Sam barely lifting his head as he nodded

"Absolutely. I'm sorry for teasing you and Alison. You're my best friend, man, and I get you love her. Fuck Vanessa. Fuck Helena," Sam whispered before closing his eyes.

I'll fucking find Helena. What the fuck?

Clayton let him sleep as he grabbed his laptop.

He waited patiently in his room for it to wake up.
After taking a slip of his coffee. He searched for Richard on the local police database, which Daniel graciously hacked into last night he soon discovered.

There was a ping on a Tom Avery. Clayton pulled up the mugshot, quickly looking back and forth at the mug shot and the few photos he had on his computer. Although the differences were more striking than the similarities, it was the same man. Those moss colored, fucking, green eyes gave him away. His brown hair, now platinum blonde, but the ears, the profile, everything screamed Richard Booth.

A rough job, Clayton thought to himself.

He grab a scrap piece of paper, writing down the location of his arrest. Maybe close to where he is hiding.

Clayton closed the laptop. Gulping the last bit of coffee before he headed out the door, leaving a sleeping Samuel on the couch.

He made his way downtown. Listening to the navigation as he weaved through the late afternoon traffic.

The voice brought him to a market. Bustling with life. He couldn't help but buy a bag of oranges from a friendly woman. Well into her fifties' but she made a deal he couldn't refuse. Her smile large as she forced her oranges onto him.

A trail of orange peels followed him as he noticed a string of hotels on the top floor of the square.

He studied the couples above. One lonely woman on her phone.

Suddenly a man stuck out to him, leaning against the wall. Eyes shifting, body ridged as he nervously walked around.

Colheita Hotel ? Clayton read in his poor Portuguese.