I knew this one was going to be different. He never asked me to tell him when I got anywhere. He'd tell me the town name, assume I'd pick the most awful joint in town to stay in (one that doesn't keep track records) and send me the envelope full of information... So what was going on here? Arriving at what I can only describe in the nicest possible way as a shithole, I clambered off my bike and went into the reception. A greasy, sweaty, smelly rat of a woman walks over to reception to greet me.
"Hello! Welcome to 'The Hotel Motel'" She grinned, showing me what was left of her decaying teeth. "Would you like a room?" Her eyes looked evil, like she was holding some dark secrets. It seems to me that only my sort even book rooms here. I nod and she hands me the book to write my name in. As I look down the list of names it becomes more obvious; lots of 'John Smith' and 'Jane Doe' types seemed to be staying here recently. This must be a hit man hideout! I hover the pen over the free row to fill in for Room 23. Shall I write another name like this so I am unrecognisable, or do I write the name I was given by my hirer? It seems so fancy in comparison to James Davis and Susan Walker... In my fanciest handwriting I scribble 'Sharon Lawrence' and write that I pay cash when its due. I push the book back to the stubby fingered ogre behind the counter and she smirks the most horrific smirk before handing me a rusting key.
"Enjoy your stay, Sharon!" She winks as I walk out the room. Please to God tell me she's my victim?! She needs to be! I get my phone out as I make my way to the room.
I'm here.
I enter the room and automatically think I would be safer and healthier sleeping in the road. And I thought the last place was bad! The bed was barely a bed; the stained, broken, unsprung mattress looked less inviting than the stained rug on the floor by the 2 seater sofa that was as flat as a sofa could be. I switch the light on, but a mere dim glow appeared in the room. This is ridiculous. A cockroach runs between my feet and I shuffle back. This place should have been demolished a long time ago, as well as the owner! I walk over to the cupboard which I assume was meant to be a for clothes, as there was nowhere else to store things, and pull the rotting door from the hinges as I try to open it. You have GOT to be kidding... A knock on the door tears me away from the whinging in my head. I walk up quietly and peek through the peephole in the door that was obviously drilled in by the last tenant. I open the door a little, allowing the man to come through.
"Pete, man, what the hell are you doing here?" I question this shadow in the room. He pulls his hood down, moves his bandana off his mouth and smiles.
"It's a joint job!" He smirks. "They wanted only the best people for this job!"
"And they didn't have any so sent you?" I said sarcastically. Pete was another of the 'hit men' or whatever you wanted to call us that were hired by a guy only known as Des. Des only hired 10 people, and we travelled wherever there was a job. He's the one that sends the paperwork. He does the intelligent stuff, we do the dirty work and we get the money, well minus 10-20% for him depending on the difficulty of the research.
"Lemme guess..." I began, "You got a text?" I say smirking. The only way Des ever contacted us was by text, untraceable unless people properly looked into phone logs and by that point, I'd know I'd failed my duty to stay undetectable. Thing is, all the years I'd worked for Des, I'd never done a joint case... He always said they were too risky; one could say the other's name, get in the way, leave a trace the other didn't know about or just about anything else I can think of. It was always cleaner on your own...
Another knock at the door, I knew what this was going to be... I open the door, no one was in sight but an envelope was left outside the room. Here are my instructions.
"So who is it this time?" Pete says in a way that's almost chillingly calm.
"Mr and Mrs Robertson" I start, shuffling the papers into the right order. "Asked for a loan from our client but hasn't paid a penny back. Although our client has asked many times for it to come back, even in small amounts, they refused saying they deserve the money more than him and saying they'd get the money back 'over their dead bodies'."
"Loan of how much? Seems a little over-the-top to kill someone over a couple of quid!" Pete says, flicking through more paperwork.
"750,000" I reply in shock as I see the number on the paper.
"Who has that money to loan out? Our client must be loaded! What's our money like?" Pete asks, still flicking through papers. He's oblivious to the fact I always organise my paperwork and am holding all the important details in my hands.
"TBC on how well we do." It was strange to read that. Most clients gave us a well rounded number before we started so we knew how bad this job would be. For example, a simple shoot and run would cost less than a detailed killing of a family made to look like a burglary.
"To be confirmed? Since when did we accept to be confirmed?" Pete says flustered.
"I dunno... Maybe we should call Des?" I question.
"You have his number?" Pete looks shocked. You see, Des never handed a number out, but seeing as I was the best of the 10 he hired, I deserved it, just in case I got a case too difficult for one person... It was basically my reward for being good at killing people... I dial the number. Des isn't stupid though, he has one of those devices in the phone that distorts the voice, so we have no idea what he looks or sounds like...
"Des? It's Alyssa. The case you've put me and Pete on... It says to be confirmed in the pay? We don't normally accept cases like this, especially after case PA:215 when Will did the job and wasn't paid at all, making us have to tie off the loose end of the client too... Right?" There was a silence on the phone. Something didn't feel right about this one.
"What case?" A distorted voice replies. I hear frantic tapping. "I've not given you a case yet! You'd only just finished with Mrs Carmichael!" I froze. We'd been set up. I turn to speak to Pete, but bullets suddenly fly through the room. I grab Pete's chair and tip us both back onto the floor. The noise is immense, at least 2 machine guns are firing at us right now... I crawl on the floor towards my bag on the bed and pull out my silenced rifle. This trusty bag has saved my life many times. I grab a handgun and chuck it at Pete. I look out from my red dot sight and see a group of 5 people. Only two were firing, the others were waiting, guns pointed to the door and window. They looked like snipers. Professionals.
"Pete! There's five. Two shooting. Three waiting for the right moment. Keep your head down!" I scream over to him as he loads the handgun. He nods and moves to the side of the window. Leaning out suddenly he begins shooting and hits one of the guys firing at us. His machine gun flings in the air as he smacks back into the car and falls onto the floor. One of the less experienced guys grabs the gun, spraying bullets all over the room.
"Alyssa! Is there another way out?" Pete hollers from across the room, and i immediately run into the back to find somewhere to escape. The bathroom was my only option of escape as it was the only room actually separated from the main part. There is a small window above the toilet, but it seems too easy. I swing the window open and duck down, only to receive a spray of gunfire just above my head. This is a nightmare! I take one deep breath and stand up, firing my rifle straight at the man outside, but he took a shot at the same time. My bullet penetrates his heart and he immediately falls to the floor. His bullet skims along my arm and i let out a scream. I immediately undo the belt of my trousers and make a tourniquet on my arm before running back out and hiding behind the bed.
"Pete! There's a window above the toilet! We gotta go!" I scream, flicking my arms in the direction of the bathroom.
"I'll hold them off, just gimme a minute!" Pete says, trying to act the hero. I run into the bathroom, but not hearing footsteps i poke my head back out to see the whereabouts of Pete. He is still shooting out of whats left of the window.
"Come on!!" I yell impatiently. I turn round just in time to see another guy clambering in the window. Shutting my eyes, i cock the gun, lift it up slightly and pull the trigger. The splatting sound is worse than normal and i feel some blood splatter on my face. I open one eye and see the dead man sprawled across the toilet with a chunk missing out the side of his head. I shudder. I poke my head round the door one more time to see Pete just about to make a run for it. Finally! He runs across to the bathroom, bullets barely missing him.
"Holy shit!" He cries, seeing this man on the toilet, but soon just climbs over him and out of the room where i swiftly follow.
"Keep an eye out, Pete. Two tried getting in here, they must know..." I whisper to him. Getting to the corner of the row of rooms, Pete pokes his head round and sees the 3 remaining guys reloading by their car. Immediately he runs out, shooting like crazy and hits them all.
"Come on, lets take their car!" Pete shouts as he runs towards it. He jumps in and starts the engine, revving it to attract my attention. I begin to walk out towards the car when a guy runs out of reception and shoots the car, aiming straight at Pete. The windscreen gets covered in blood and i hide, hyperventilating. I grab my phone.
"Des? They killed Pete! Oh God... We got most of them, but they just keep coming! I need help! It's-" I'm cut off with a guy grabbing me from behind and putting his hand over my mouth. He's holding a cloth in his hand, something that smells like... Oh shit...