The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) Page 13

  Clara got up off the bed and headed to the door. Aaron came over and eased it open. He glanced down the hall, then shut the door.

  “There are a few hotel employees by Clara’s door, still working in Ansgar’s room.”

  “Authorities?” Sarah asked.

  He shook his head. “Didn’t see any.”

  “Okay. Go.” She touched Clara’s arm. “You’re allowed to enter your own hotel room, but remember, if anyone asks, you were at a party. You drank too much. Aaron’s a friend. Got it.”

  Clara nodded her understanding.

  “We’ll be right back,” Aaron said as he slipped out the door.

  For the five minutes they were gone, Sarah stared out the tenth floor window. The rain subsided while she shook with nerves. Why leave Aaron now? Why fly all the way around the world to a small town in Denmark? For what?

  Vivian had always proven herself hard to like, hard to get used to. This was one of those times.

  “They’re back,” Benjamin said.

  The door clicked. Aaron and Clara slipped into the room. A small pile of clothes dangled over Clara’s arm. Aaron held her suitcase.

  “Thought she might as well vacate that room,” he said. “We’re leaving this hotel at sundown.”

  Sarah took the proffered clothes and headed into the bathroom. After trying on several pieces, she stopped to examine the look.

  “There,” Sarah said to her image in the mirror, wearing a white shirt with a flower on the left shoulder. “I look Danish now.”

  When Sarah stepped from the bathroom, Clara let out a small laugh. It was good to hear her giggle.

  “You look like me, now,” Clara said. “My dad bought that shirt for me two weeks ago. He liked the flower.”

  Aaron and Alex smiled and nodded at her.

  “We could be twins,” Sarah said as she walked to the door and looked through the peephole.

  Sarah grabbed her small wallet and her passport, then took Clara’s hands and stared into her eyes.

  “Clara, listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure I’ll find out when I get to Denmark. You have to promise me something.”

  Clara licked her lips, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “You have to promise me you’ll stay with my friends. Do what they tell you to. Go where they tell you to. When I get back, everything should be over. Will you do that?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on either,” Clara said. “I came here to meet a man I fell in love with and got tied up in a hotel room. Sarah, I’m scared and I want to go home.” She cleared her throat and swallowed. “I saw what you did for me in that room. You took a great risk to save me from that man. For that, I will listen to you, even though I don’t know you. I will listen to you because that man is still out there somewhere and he scares me.”

  Relief swept through her. This is what Vivian asked of them. Protect the Danish girl. It would be good to do that without a fight from the Danish girl.

  “Good. These guys will stop at nothing to keep you safe. You have my word.”

  Clara leaned in close and Sarah took the opportunity to hug her. After a moment, they stepped back.

  “Is there anything I should know about Skanderborg before I go? Biker gangs? Muslim extremists? Anything?”

  Clara smiled and shook her head, hair flying.

  “No, there’s nothing dangerous in Skanderborg. It’s a small town. I love my little city. It’s right on Skanderborg Lake. So beautiful. You’ll love it.”

  “What about your father? Is he there?”

  Her expression turned serious. “Are you going to see my dad?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m just supposed to go.”

  It was Clara’s turn to frown. “You’re going to Skanderborg and you have no idea why?”

  “That’s about it.”

  Clara licked her lips again. “Sarah, that seems strange. Or do you just not want to tell me?”

  “I assure you, if I didn’t want to tell you, I would tell you it was none of your business. As I said earlier, it’s a long story. Aaron will fill you in.”

  Sarah reached for the door.

  “Sarah, can you check in on my father?” Clara added, her tone softer.

  Was Clara on to something? Was this about Anton Olafson? If it was, why have Clara come to Toronto?

  “Where would I find him?” Sarah asked.

  “Just down from the train station. Two houses away from the rowing club by the lake. Here, give me the hotel pad of paper there and a pen. I’ll write the street name and draw a little diagram.”

  Daniel grabbed the pad and gave it to Clara. After a minute of doodling, she handed it to Sarah. It was easy to see the train station, the road leading away and how to walk to the rowing club. A large X was drawn over the house two away from the rowing club.

  “How do you pronounce that street name?” Sarah asked.

  Clara said, “Sølystvej. The sound of the O with the line through it stays in your throat. Like you swallow the sound.”

  “Okay.” Sarah glanced up from the paper. “Not sure I’ll learn Danish on this trip.”

  “You won’t have to. Everyone speaks English in Denmark. Only a few of the older generation don’t. You won’t have a problem.”

  Sarah took a deep breath, then grabbed the door knob.

  “Wait,” Aaron said, his voice like the crack of a whip.

  He moved behind her. They embraced, long and hard.

  “Take care of yourself,” he whispered.

  “You too, fucker.”

  They kissed. He let her go and she opened the door, then closed it and turned back to him.

  “I can’t go.”

  “Why not?” Aaron asked.

  “I thought I’d lost you forever. And now I have to fly to Europe for who knows how long. It’s just wrong somehow.”

  “Sarah, you of all people understand. We have to listen to what Vivian wrote for us. There’s no other way. I’d be dead right now if I didn’t.”

  She eased back into his embrace. The others in the room looked away.

  “She saw my death, though. How am I supposed to live with that?” a soft chuckle escaped her lips when she thought of what she’d just said.

  “You just have to,” Aaron said.

  She leaned away, lowered her head and looked up at him with a half-smile.

  “What?” she asked. “You trying to get rid of me?”

  “Stupid.” He yanked her close. “Never.”

  She wanted to stay, be held by him, and let the worries of the world fall on someone else’s shoulders. What also troubled her was how soft she was getting. She wasn’t the same girl from the days of fighting madmen in the crypts of Italy and Hungary with Parkman. This wasn’t the same girl who fought Gert and won all those years ago. Who managed to live through Rod Howley and his successor from the Sophia Project. No, this new Sarah was in love and wanted kids and wanted to be married. Maybe even have a nice home one day, an average job.

  One day …

  “You’re right,” she whispered for only Aaron to hear. “I need to do this.”

  Allowing herself to pull away, to have Aaron’s hands release her, made it final. She wouldn’t hug him again or she wouldn’t let go.

  Leave now or never leave.

  She pulled the door open.

  “Wait,” Alex said.

  Aaron’s hand shot over her shoulder and closed the door.

  “What?” Sarah asked, her impatience for herself coming through in the tone of her voice. It would mean nothing to Alex as he didn’t seem to care what people said or how they said it. Alex was only interested in actions.

  “Here.” Alex handed over Ansgar’s cell phone. “The guy on the other end texted back. This was his last message.”

  Sarah read it to herself, then handed it to Aaron.

  “Not very smart of him to threaten a man like Ansgar.”

  Aaron shook his head as he read the message, then handed t
he phone back to Alex.

  “Whoever he is, he doesn’t think Ansgar can get to him. Stupid if you ask me.”

  “It worked, though. We got him riled up.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “Just stay together. Stay safe. I’ll be back in a few days and we’ll deal with Ansgar. Then it’s over.”

  Aaron winked at her. “Then it’s over,” he repeated.

  Sarah opened the door before she had time to think about it. She edged into the corridor, saw it was empty, then started down the hall toward the elevator without looking back. She had to get on that plane or she would return to the hotel and not make it to Denmark.

  The mystery that Vivian started with the letters was almost unraveled and Sarah resolved to see it to the end.

  Even if it killed her.

  And if it did, she would kick Vivian’s ass.

  Chapter 20

  The hospital took longer than he thought. The emergency room at the hospital was full when he arrived, but after complaining of difficulty breathing, they took him ahead of others who weren’t injured as badly.

  Now, with small white strips of bandage on either side of his swollen nose and a thicker one crossing the bridge, Ansgar caught a taxi at the main entrance of the hospital and headed back to the hotel. The sun left behind a purple sky as it dipped over the horizon.

  The intruders could have the police waiting for him. Aaron and Alex and that girl who attacked him, and whoever else they had with them could be waiting to finish their fight. Ansgar chose to not enter the hotel. He would wait outside like he used to years before as a sniper in Afghanistan. Eventually one of them would exit the hotel and he would dispatch them.

  For a man like him, with his experience, it was a joke that the girl got the better of him. She would pay for that.

  The cell phone would be a problem. The client would attempt to make contact and Ansgar wouldn’t be there. Unless the room had been searched, in which case the cell phone would be in evidence and the client would be placed in jeopardy.

  This did not bode well for future contracts.

  All that was left for him to do was stack up the bodies.

  Ansgar would wait out front of the hotel. He would watch for the gang that interrupted his time with Clara. If none came out, he would be Peter Ford and enter the hotel and attempt to gain access to his room.

  Aaron and his team were there for revenge. They brought a girl with them to gain access to the room. A girl fighter. Good with her hands, displaying little fear. Aaron had a good team, Ansgar would give him that. And Ansgar would break that team apart one by one. Then maybe he could continue his job for the client. This would go down as a minor setback.

  When he got to the girl who broke his nose, he would offer her a minor setback as well. A broken knee cap would work. A severed spine. Two dislocated shoulders. One eye poked out. A few missing teeth. And of course, a broken nose. That girl would never walk again, never eat right again, and have difficulty breathing through a tube for the rest of her short life when he was done with her.

  That was the thing about Ansgar. He didn’t discriminate. He took jobs whether the target was a woman or a man. He even took a job to kill a rich guy’s ten-year-old son once so the ex-wife couldn’t have him in a divorce battle. In the animal kingdom, predators didn’t stop to evaluate age prior to a kill and neither did Ansgar. In both instances, the kill put food on the table.

  The taxi pulled into the parking lot of the hotel.

  “Here’s good,” Ansgar said.

  He tossed two twenties over the seat and got out. The cab pulled away, leaving him in the large parking lot, staring up at the hotel.

  An Air Canada flight flew overhead as it prepared to land at the Toronto Airport. Ansgar followed it until his eyes stopped on the tenth floor of the hotel where he studied the window to his room. It was dark. That was a good sign. If the room had been taken over by the authorities, a forensics team would be scouring it into the night.

  Ansgar eased backwards until he stood in the darkness between two towering parking lot lamps. Keeping to the less lit areas, he weaved his way toward the back of the parking lot and found a spot in the grass to sit where he had a good view of the front doors of the hotel. Anyone coming and going would use those doors.

  The side of the building to his left had one exit door. A fence lined the back of the property. If Aaron’s team used that door to leave the hotel, they would have to hop the fence or walk into view.

  Wherever they were, he would see them.

  Then they would tell him how they found him and how they knew about the bombs. They would be happy to explain everything. Ansgar could be quite coercive.

  Then he would kill them.

  All of them.

  Especially the girl.

  That fucking girl.

  He touched the gun in the small of his back.

  The Clock sat back and waited for his kills to come to him.

  In time.

  Chapter 21

  Anton Olafson got off the train in Aarhus and walked out into the late afternoon sun. It didn’t warm his skin. It did nothing to make him feel better.

  Find someone that looks like Clara. Kill someone that looks like Clara.

  What if he found a random girl, killed her, and then PAIN didn’t accept it? Would he have to kill again?

  Why do it in the first place? Why was PAIN making him kill someone random? For his jollies? Was this something PAIN wanted to do himself but couldn’t? Was he some kind of demented voyeur?

  Anton followed the crowd of people surging across the street toward Aarhus’ walking streets. He would hunt for a girl who walked alone. He would follow her and wait for an opportunity to catch her in a private area, away from curious eyes.

  This evening, Denmark was celebrating Midsummer, the Burning of the Witch. All over Denmark, a fabricated witch would be placed atop a pile of twigs and shrubbery and then lit afire. Even though it was meant to remember the Lutherans who were persecuted during the 16th and 17th century’s religious wars, it had become something of an unintentional attack on women. Anton couldn’t think of a better day to murder a lost soul on the streets of Aarhus.

  He had his cell phone in case PAIN tried to reach him. He had it to film the murder as well. Then he would appeal for Clara’s safe return and the destruction of the files that PAIN had hacked. Everything could still work out as long as he did his job.

  After walking a few blocks along the shopping streets, he came to Salling, a large department store. Salling offered everything from cosmetics to clothing, groceries, and alcohol. Once inside, he rode the escalator to the lower level and headed to the liquor section near the back. They offered samples of their whiskeys for a prospective buyer, and today Anton needed a couple of shots of something hard.

  The attendant, Bjorn, helped him with a taste of three different whiskeys before Anton explained that he would search out his wife and return to purchase the bitterer brand.

  Lightheaded, he rode the escalator up to the second floor, then stood in line at the bakery to grab a pecan pastry before heading out onto the evening streets in search of someone that resembled his daughter.

  He didn’t feel like himself. How could he have gone so far as to be walking the streets of the city he worked in, looking for a stranger to murder? It seemed impossible, yet he was prepared to do it.

  He had made mistakes in his life. He would pay for them. That’s what justified this action. One kill. One payment. Clara set free. Life could go on. Worst case scenario, he would be jailed for the rest of his life for his crimes, but at least his daughter would be free.

  The pecan pastry sated his small appetite as he headed toward the canal that ran perpendicular under the walking street. After an hour of watching pretty blonde girls, most of them with somebody else, he took a seat at one of the cafés along the canal and bought a cappuccino.

  His phone had no messages. The hacker was silent. There were four days left in the PAIN PACT. That wasn�
��t enough time to do anything else but stay on course, and Anton intended to do just that. Although finding the right girl at the right time and in a quiet area posed a problem. Maybe he needed to stay in less busy areas. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way.