Betrayed (Powell Book 4) (19 page)

Powell and Jenkins decided to eat in their room and discuss what they would do next. Powell was glad to be rid of Roger and what they had learned at the Cement Works was invaluable.

They both ordered a large steak and chips with all the trimmings plus a couple of bottled beers each. They had already drunk the beers in the room’s mini bar. While they waited for the food to arrive, they went over the day’s events and what should be their next step.

“This Luigi guy might prove useful,” Powell said. “Roger described him as a proper gangster. If so, he’s going to be putting pressure on Scott to get his money back. He won’t accept excuses like it’s not Scott’s fault.”

“Perhaps Luigi will break Scott’s legs,” Jenkins suggested with a smile. “That’s a fun thought.”

A light went on in Powell’s brain. “He will if we make him think Scott’s ripped him off.”

Not long after the word went out, Luigi received a call from a contact, claiming a man fitting the description of Powell, had checked into the airport hotel where the informer worked and was sharing a twin room with someone called Jenkins. They were booked in for two nights. The contact was a porter on the night shift, who had carried their bags to the room.

When he mentioned Powell appeared to have a slight limp, Luigi knew the information was solid. He thanked the man for his help and promised him a hefty bonus.

An hour later, Luigi despatched four of his most trusted men to the hotel. He would have liked to go in person but those days were long gone. He had a family and preferred to remain in the background. He was well known to the police but hadn’t been in jail since his twenties. He’d been arrested a couple of times but the cases had always been dropped for lack of evidence. It was pointed out to witnesses, it would be unwise and hazardous to their health, to give evidence against Luigi.

The men were under orders to find out what had happened to the missing drugs and money. They were to inflict as much pain as possible on the two men inside the room and once they had the information they needed, they should leave the men dead. It was important it should not be a quick death. They were to have their tongues cut out and their manhood cut off and stuffed in their mouths. It was to be a clear message that you did not steal from Luigi and if you did, you would meet a very violent death. 

The men, who were all of Italian descent, knew the room number where the targets were staying. The leader of the men, called the hotel while standing outside the entrance. He asked to be put through to room 316. As soon as the phone was picked up, he disconnected the call. He had the confirmation at least one of the men was in the room.

As the four men entered the hotel foyer, they looked like any other guests, dressed smartly in dark suits. They headed straight for the lifts without attracting any unwanted attention.

On the third floor, they easily found Room 316. It was 7p.m. and they didn’t hang about in case other guests should suddenly appear in the corridor. There was no certainty both men would be in the room but given they were on the run from the police, it seemed highly likely they would be holed up in their room as much as possible.

Three of the men stood to the side of the door, out of sight of anyone inside using the spy hole. They were armed with guns and knives for the task ahead. They knew they had to move fast to silence the men inside the room before they could raise the alarm. 

The fourth man was in charge and he would be first in to the room. He knocked firmly on the door, prepared to announce himself as the manager of the hotel, needing to speak to Mr. Jenkins about a  delicate matter. There was a problem with his credit card. In the event, the story was unnecessary. He had only to wait a few seconds before the door was opened.

When the knock on the door came, Jenkins stood up to open the door. “About time,” he said. “I’m starving.”

“Let’s hope they cooked the steaks properly,” Powell replied, also standing. He liked his steak medium rare but airport hotels weren’t renowned for their cuisine. His expectations of the kitchen getting it right, weren’t high.

He walked to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving it ajar just enough so he could still see into the room. The police were hunting him and it was important to keep hidden as much as possible. His photo could have been circulated to hotel staff.

Jenkins waited until the bathroom door was shut. He was too hungry to bother to check the spy hole. He was also desperate for another beer. It had been a long day.

The Italian burst through the door, the moment it was opened, and was quickly followed into the room by his three fellow assassins. He was surprised it was opened by a middle aged woman but landed a punch on her jaw, which sent her falling back into the room as his friends entered, ready to deal with the other occupants.

“Who was at the door?” a middle aged man asked, emerging from the bathroom, wearing just a white towel around his waist. His face turned to a look of horror when he saw his wife on the floor and the intruders. He bolted for the door of the room but had no chance of escape.

Two of the assassins rushed to the man and grabbed him by the arms. He started to scream but one of the men cut off his airwaves with a large forearm. They dragged him back towards the bed and the man offered no fight when he was made to sit on the bed. One of the Italians stood close beside him with a large knife in his hand. The towel had fallen from his body and he was completely naked. The man covered his genitals with his hands.

“What have you done to my wife?” the man implored, looking at her unmoving body, lying on the floor.

“Keep quiet,” the man who had knocked on the door commanded. He already suspected this job was a complete fuck up. They must be in the wrong room. He was going to have words with the idiot who provided the tip. But right now, he had to make some quick decisions.

“We don’t have much money,” the naked man said.

“I said keep quiet. Otherwise, we’ll cut out your tongue.”

He was in charge and he could see the three other men looking at him for instructions. They also realised they were in the wrong room. He took out his phone and called Luigi.

“This isn’t the right room,” he explained. “There’s some middle aged couple here. No sign of the people we want. What do you want us to do?”

He listened to Luigi cursing and then ended the call. He knew what was necessary but wanted confirmation from his boss. None of the men had been too concerned about the occupants of the room seeing their faces. They were going to end up dead. This couple were just unlucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They couldn’t afford to leave witnesses behind.

He had his back to the man on the bed while he was talking on the phone. He took out his gun, which already had the silencer attached and in a quick motion, he turned and shot the man between the eyes before he had time to know what was about to happen.

He walked over to the wife, who was beginning to stir and shot her in the back of the head. He didn’t like killing women or children. In fact, he didn’t like killing any civilians unnecessarily but he knew there would be an extra payment forthcoming for clearing up this mess.

He placed his gun in the hand of the dead man so it would have his fingerprints.

“Hold the woman up,” he instructed his men.

Then he held the dead husband’s finger and pulled the trigger, depositing another bullet in the wife’s back. This would leave residue on his hand that proved he’d shot the gun. Finally, he dropped the gun on the bed by the husband as if it had fallen from his hand. Hopefully it would look as if the man shot his wife as she was trying to leave and then shot himself. If luck was really on his side, perhaps the cops would discover she was having an affair. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to the other men.

He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Luigi. He knew his boss was going to be in a foul mood, which would only be appeased by the deaths of Powell and Jenkins. Next time, he would personally check any lead they were given. When he called the hotel, he should have asked for the men by name not just asked to be transferred to the room. He’d made a mistake but he’d rectified the problem.

For all he knew, Jenkins could be in the very next room and the contact had given the wrong room number. He hoped that wasn’t the case but even if it was, there was nothing he could do about it right now. They had to get clear of the hotel.

Jenkins opened the door and stood back to allow space for the girl to push the trolley into the room. She removed the tin covers from the food and identified which steak was medium rare and which was medium.

“Would you like me to open the beer?” she offered.

“I think we can do that,” Jenkins replied. The girl was pretty but right now he was more interested in food. 

“You can push the trolley outside the door, when you’ve finished,” the girl explained.

She seemed to be hovering and Jenkins realised the reason. “Thanks,” he said, taking a couple of quid from his pocket for a tip.

She smiled. “If you need anything like desert or maybe more beers, just give us a call.”

“We will,” he said, ushering her to the door.

Once she’d left, Powell reappeared. “This looks good,” he commented, picking up his plate. “Good choice of hotel.” He sat on the edge of his bed and rested the plate on his lap.

“We haven’t tasted it yet but it does look good,” Jenkins agreed, sitting on his bed. “I’m not sure we needed to move hotel again but I guess it’s best not to take chances.”

“We keep moving,” Powell confirmed. “I know it was a drag, having to move again, after getting back from the Cement Works but it’s better safe than sorry. We stick to one night maximum at each hotel in future. No exceptions. There are dozens of hotels in the area so we won’t run out of places to stay.” 

At one in the morning, Powell and Jenkins drove to Tintagel. They had an expandable step ladder, purchased from a DIY store, which remained open late. Powell was worried about being out at a time when the police were extra vigilant, looking for criminals and drunks, so he was careful to stay within the speed limits.

They parked on the side of the road, close to the wall, but away from the main gate. They stuck the note they had written earlier, on the windscreen saying they were broken down and would return to collect the car, the next day. If a police car spotted the parked car, it was almost certain to stop and investigate why the car was parked where it was but hopefully the note would be sufficient to send them on their way.

“It’s weird being back here,” Powell said, as they set the ladder against the wall. “I’ll go first.” He climbed the ladder and sat astride the top of the wall like a horse. As he looked towards the trees, the one image he couldn’t get out of his mind was of the naked Hattie tied to the tree.

Jenkins climbed the ladder and sat on top of the wall next to Powell. Then he pulled the ladder up behind him, before placing it on the ground, on the other side of the wall.

“After you,” Jenkins said.

Powell climbed down the ladder and was quickly joined by Jenkins. They left the ladder in position, in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Not that Powell was doing anything very quickly. His leg prohibited sudden or fast movements.

Powell led the way to the front of the house where the cars were parked off to one side. The Land Rover was in its familiar space. Fortunately, they were far enough away from the main house for the light sensors not to work.

Powell took out his lock breaking keys and quickly had the boot open. He spotted a compartment to the side, which he opened and revealed the tools for changing the wheels. “We can put it in here,” he suggested.

Jenkins took the bag of drugs from inside his jacket and placed it in the compartment. They closed the boot and hurried away. The whole job had only taken twenty minutes by the time they were back in their car.

Despite the disturbed night’s sleep, they were up at eight and enjoying breakfast in their room while taking turns to shower. Roger had said Luigi ran a small chain of betting shops in Kent. His full name was Luigi Pesce and he was listed as the Director of Roma Racing. Some brief searching on the internet provided the phone number for what was described as the Head Office.

Powell called and asked to speak to Luigi but from the response it was evident he wasn’t often seen in the office before the afternoon. He asked if there was any other number where he was more likely to be able to reach him but met a blank. They weren’t going to hand out his mobile or home numbers to just anybody.

Powell decided it was worth taking a risk. He went down to the hotel lobby and found a payphone. He called Brian and asked him to find the home and mobile numbers for Luigi Pesce. He said he would call again in an hour. Even if someone was eavesdropping, they didn’t have time to trace the call.

One hour later, Powell called again and Brian gave him a number listed to a Luigi Pesce, who had a criminal record and currently owned Roma Racing. He was identified as a person of interest to the police. They again kept the call short to avoid the danger of being traced, with Powell just confirming he was making good progress.

Powell returned to his room and used his mobile to call Luigi.

“Who is this?” a voice answered with a definite Italian accent.

“I’m a friend. I have some information for you.”

“And what is your name, friend?”

“That’s not important. I know you recently lost something very valuable. I can help you with its recovery.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I don’t want a financial reward. Let’s say the result would be in both our interests. One day maybe you will be able to do me a favour. I have a friend who lives at Tintagel. He tells a story about overhearing someone called Tommy boasting how he and Scott have got one over on the greasy Italian. Forgive me, they are not my words.”

“Go on.”

“It seems you were set up and have been fooled into believing someone else is responsible for your loss. Tommy and Scott had some short term financial problems and you were the solution. I don’t know where the money is but I do know the product is somewhere in the back of their Land Rover. I believe they are about to sell it for a second time.”

“It is an interesting story but I am not sure why I should believe you. How do you know they have put the drugs in the car?”

“As I said, I have a friend at the house.”

“It would be foolish of you to lie to me,” Luigi warned.

“It’s easy enough to check out. Pay Scott a visit and see if my information is correct. What have you to lose?”

“How can I contact you?” Luigi asked.

“You can’t.”

“But if I find something of interest in the Land Rover, I will want to thank you properly.”

“I’ll be in touch again. You’ll be needing a new supplier, I guess?”

“Now I understand. You want to take over Scott’s business. I like entrepreneurs. Give me a call in a few days and we can talk further. Of course, that is contingent on your information being correct.”

“It is,” Powell said and ended the call.