Chapter 5
“Boss,” Mrs. Bostwick said into the phone. Simon reached down to the blank envelope that had been shoved under his room door. He held the phone against his ear with a shoulder and opened the paper. It was the itinerary for Andel.
“How are you, Beatrice?” he asked her. He took two steps from the door and placed the list on the desk.
“We have a problem, Sir.”
“And, what’s that,” he asked, settling down at the desk to go over the items, he needed to strike quick, and get back home. As long as Vitoly kept his word, no one would know he had taken this job. Hell, it wasn’t even a job, there was no money exchanging hands. He could easily explain away this trip.
“You’re going to have to see for yourself. Go to the Myo Hotel. Room 615.” She hung up and Simon sighed. What now? He dropped the list on the desk and grabbed his coat. This time, taking a newsy with him. The newsboy style hat was still popular among the Czech people, so he would blend in better. With the fall air cooling down and the looming threat of snow, he also wound a knit scarf around his neck. He tucked the ends into the black pea coat he had worn earlier. Shoving hands in his pockets as well, he felt at ease when his fingertips brushed against the cool metal of the gun that remained hidden.
Stepping from his room, he once again took the stairs. This time, the ones at the other end of the hall, they would let him out in a back employee entrance way. He slinked through the door, remaining unseen, lowered his head and walked quickly across town. At the modern hotel, he walked quickly, as if he belonged there and jumped onto a closing elevator, just before the doors slammed shut. Pressing the correct button, he stared at the floor as the lift let off the only two other passengers before his floor. The young couple had seemed too interested in pretending not to notice him and he had to wonder if there was a team here. The shadowy figure from the bridge could be working alone, or could be here as part of a team. Either way, it meant that he was in danger. This was turning out to be a bigger mess than he anticipated.
On the sixth floor, he got out of the elevator and walked to the end of the hallway. The last door on the left was slightly ajar, held open only by a key card, which belong to his hotel. Hotel Paris. Slipping on a pair of black leather gloves, he placed his foot in front of the door to keep it open and removed the card. He shoved it into the pocket of his coat and pulled out the gun. With it at the ready, he pushed the door open quickly with his shoulder, and burst forth into the room. Waving the gun through the air, he twisted back and forth. The only person in the small room, was face down on the bed, blonde hair fanned out about them. His heart leapt into his throat. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that was his wife. But she was in Boston with friends. Lowering the gun, but not his guard, he moved closer. The person was breathing, just not moving. He inched closer, reaching out with his hand not holding the gun. Brushing the hair back, he gasped, pulling back. This couldn’t be happening. No, he thought to himself. Putting the gun back in his pocket, he ran his hands through his hair. His feet shuffled as he paced the room. Finding his wife passed out on a bed, in a hotel, in Prague, with a bandage around her arm, where he had shot the person following him at the Charles bridge. It couldn’t be. Blood pumped through his veins rapidly as his pulse quickened. Thumping in his ears, a headache started and bloomed throughout his skull. What was going on here? He took his phone and dialed Mrs. Bostwick.
“Explain,” he said through clenched teeth. “Now.”
“Sir, she was following you. I don’t show any commercial flights booked for her, anywhere. But after arranging the gun pick up for you, I had Viktor follow you, to watch your back. We’ve used him several times, so I know we can trust him. He hadn’t seen her follow you, she’s good. Whoever she really is.” The older woman sighed into the phone. “I’m sorry, Simon, I really am. Viktor saw her right before you did, and then followed. When he sent me a photo of who she was, I instructed him to just make sure she went to sleep. She’s fine, no one hurt her, except you, of course,” there was that motherly tone again. The slight edge in the woman’s voice, indicating her disappointment.
“I’ll handle it.”
Hanging up the phone, he continued to pace, thinking about what to do next. He scooped his wife up, setting her into the desk chair. The small room was cramped as it was, but with her Sprawled out, it felt more so. Sitting her up, he looked around. Her head slumped against her chest as he walked away. He found a duffle bag full of goodies inside. Scattering them out on the bed, he found a rope. Taking that, he bound her wrists behind her back, through the chair, then attached the rope to her ankles. If this were any other enemy and not his wife, he would have continued until the rope went to the neck as well. But he couldn’t do that. He had loved this woman. Or still did. It was unclear. His emotions were in so much turmoil at the moment that he couldn’t even think. With her secured, he went through the rest of her items. Every day agent items. Nothing of real consequence, except the small container that looked like it held ring sized darts. He moved it around, examining it. Finally, he dropped the items and got comfortable on the bed. With his jacket off and strewn across the foot of the bed, he relaxed, and waited for his wife to wake up.