Chapter 3
Simon tightened the scarf around his neck. The crisp air at night, in the Czech capital caused shivers. Although anticipation created a tremor too. His footsteps echoed on the stone walk, as he moved across the dark and empty Charles bridge. In the middle, a dark figure stood, surrounded in shadow.
“Lion,” the thick accented man called out.
“I retired. What is it you think I can do for you?” Hands in his pockets, Simon stood a safe distance away, his fingers curled around the weapon hidden in his pocket. Being a tiny hand gun, it easily fit into the pocket and he was able to have it aimed on the stranger, without them knowing. He conveyed casual, relaxed, when really, his body was a tightly wound coil.
“I have a job for you. Retirement or not, you are the best. And we need you.”
“Who is we?”
“Sir, your reputation precedes you. You’re a good man. Legend says the Lion only goes after men who deserve it. Andel Novak is in Czech Senate for my district. He is a cruel man; his men kill with no reason. They terrorize the farmers, rape our woman and he allows it. We must pay his for protection. If one cannot afford it, he kills them. Please, do not turn us away. Our whole district has pitched in to pay you your fees.”
The man moved towards Simon, holding out a duffle bag. He could hear coin shifting around, as the man moved. Something inside of Simon snapped. It was true, he only took out men that deserved death. Those who took innocent lives for no reason. Terrorists, Dictators, Drug Lords. They all got what was coming to them. He had left the killing behind him, left the lies, the CIA, all of it. His life was good. But something inside of him, could not walk away from this man, even though it could cost him everything. If the CIA even got wind that he was working again and found him, or found out that he was the Lion, his world would crumble. Simon risked losing Jessalyn, who was the best thing that had ever happened to him. His business, Mrs. Bostwick, she would have nowhere to go. This stranger united a village, a group of people who wanted this politician gone. How could he say no? His life, was not worth the countless he could save. The man had stepped into the light, trying to hand over the money. Simon took a moment to really look at him. He wore jeans, that were patched in several places, work boots that had seen better days. His jacket didn’t look like it belonged to him. The sleeves were worn and too short.
“Keep your money,” Simon told the man. If the district really was as poor as this man claimed, which by his appearance, was the truth, he could not, in good conscious, take this money. “I’ll do this for you, on a few conditions.”
“Sir,” the man fell to his knees, sobbing. “Anything, anything for you. Please, we will do anything to help you.” He reached out, grabbing Simon’s hand. He could feel the calluses of a hard life on the skin that held tight to him.
“Please, stand up,” he bent to help the man to his feet. “What’s your name?” Now that Simon could see more, he could tell the man was a little older than himself. Hard lines covered the planes of his face. Worry lines creased his forehead.
“Vitoly,” he said, stand before Simon.
“Ok, Vitoly, listen,” he said, moving them towards the side of the bridge. A young couple walked across the bridge. He lowered his voice. “I don’t want your money. But, no one can tell. Not one person can know it was me, that I was here, or had anything to do with this. And, I’ll need help. I need to know where he’s going to be, when, his whole schedule for the next two days. Once it’s done, I’m gone, I’ll disappear. You need to destroy anything you have, with my name, how you contacted, anything, got it?”
“Yes, yes sir, we can do that.” The man shook Simon’s hand, overly excited, yanking on the extremity. As Simon looked around at their surroundings, he noticed a figure hiding in the shadows at the Old Town end of the bridge.
“Did you tell anyone where we were meeting?” Vitoly started to turn around, but he grabbed the man’s arm, holding him in place. “Don’t look. Just answer me.”
“No, no Sir. I was told that I couldn’t.”
“Ok, Vitoly, hold onto that money tight, and get yourself home. Send a letter to me at the Hotel Paris once you have the itinerary. Go, now,” he pushed slightly on the man, to urge him to walk the other way. Simon lowered his head, bunching his shoulders and made his way towards the figure. Though pretending to look at his feet, from his periphery he was watching the shadow. As he neared, the person tried to back into the darkness. Sliding the gun from his pocket, he turned, suddenly stopping and aimed. As he pulled the trigger, the person took off running.
Simon heard them cry out, but keep moving, so he knew his bullet hit the mark. Twisting on the heel of his shoe, he strode quickly away, back towards his hotel. Though he knew he was doing the right thing, it was time to get this over with and get out, back home to his wife. The faster he could leave this world behind him, the better. Somehow taking that money out of the account, had triggered something, somewhere in the underworld, something that must have sent up a signal, saying he was back on the grid. That couldn’t happen again. Simon vowed to make a quick stop over in Switzerland. He needed to close out the account he had there, and his safety deposit boxes. Though he would have to arrange private transport, to travel with that much money, the upside, was the chocolates he could take home to his wife. Hustling, he made it back to the historic hotel, slipping inside quietly. The lobby was thankfully empty at this time of night. The less anyone saw him, the better. With a last careful glance over his shoulder, he moved to the stairs, taking them two at a time, to his fourth-floor room. Every elevator had cameras, but the stairs really didn’t. Hotel Paris was no cheap hostel. But its clientele preferred their privacy. He pushed open the door to his floor, scanning up and down before fully exiting. Once inside his room, he blew out a huff of air, and sat at the desk. It was time to plan.