The International Assassin A Sexy Times Crime Thriller (16 page)

“Yes. That’s Champagne.” Nick nodded before the waiter charged my glass then Nick’s.

“Hey Waiter!
Boy
!” yelled one of the Russians in a drunken slur.

The waiter did his best to ignore him. 

“I’m talking to
you
!” he yelled again. 

The waiter looked at us apologetically.

“I’m sorry Sir, Madame. Russians…” he said disdainfully.

“Who’d have guessed,” I said with a sarcastic politeness. 

I toasted Nick’s flute brimming with French vintage happiness.

“To us,” said Nick.

“To our future,” I replied.

Annoyed by the wine waiters lack of attention the surly Russian gangster got up and pulled his trousers up over his large bulging gut. As his jacket fell open it revealed a ghastly gold-plated Colt automatic in a snakeskin holster. He strode across to the waiter and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“You deaf
boy
? We want drink!” he told him rudely.

“One moment Sir. I will be with you in one moment,” the waiter told him politely.

The ruddy-faced Russian ogre looked down at the Dom Perignon next to our table.

“I want something more expensive than that
cheap shit
. I want
Kristal
!” he told him.

“Very good Sir,” the waiter replied politely.

“Oh how
very
new money,” I told Nick with a wry smile. 

The Russian glared at me then stared at Nick in the way men always want to blame the boyfriend or husband for their girlfriend or wife’s actions and solicit a unwarranted bout of fisticuffs. The waiter, sensing the tension, decided to retreat - probably to summon hotel security in case things got out of hand. Nick stared back at the burly Russian and clearly was more amused than intimidated by him as he stood trying to hold his drunken balance.

“I
know
you!” the Russian said prodding a drunken finger in the direction of Nick.

“I very much doubt that,” Nick replied dryly.

“No! I’ve seen your face!” he said looked at Nick then me “…
and
yours!”

“Good for you,” I told him. “Now why don’t you fuck off back to your Bolshevik party chums,” I said.

The Russian looked at me angrily - incensed that I dare insult him in front of his goon colleagues.

“How about I cut your pretty little face up eh?” he replied.

“How about I blow your fucking head off and serve it to your comrades with their Foi-Gras?” Nick replied coldly.

‘
Oh dear
’ I thought. It was unlikely we were going to make it to our first course.

“Sergei!” yelled one of the other Russians. “
Sergei
. Come sit down and finish your lunch.”

The oafish drunken Cossack we now knew as Sergei scowled momentarily. A thinner more educated Russian at the table threw down his napkin in annoyance. He got up and walked over and grabbed the scowling Sergei by the shoulder.

“Sergei! I won’t tell you again. Go and sit down and finish your lunch!” he said in a stern tone. 

Sergei glared at me then Nick.

“I will see you later,” Sergei uttered in his Slavic monotone giving Nick one of those
my penis is bigger
looks.

“Look forward to it,” Nick replied with a confident
but I know what to do with mine
visual riposte.

Sergei retreated back to the table reluctantly.

“I have to apologise for my associate. He is not very cultured. We try not to let him out too much,” the wiry man said with a polite tone of apology.

“You should keep him on a shorter lead,” I suggested.

“
Da
. My apologies. I hope it does not spoil your lunch. Let me pay for your Champagne as a token of my apologies.”

“There is no need,” Nick said.

“No please I insist. He has insulted your beautiful lady I must make amends for him.”

“Well if you insist,” I told him - never one to turn down a free bottle of Champagne, especially a two-hundred Euro vintage.

“What is your room number? I will have your meal charged to my account.”

“The presidential suite,” I said.

“Ah…” he smiled. “So you are why it was booked. It is my favourite room. A perfect view of the lake.”

“I’m sure you will be able to change. We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” I told him.

“Such a shame. Somewhere nice?”

“Monaco,” I replied.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked.

“Business.”

“Well hopefully you can have some pleasure there too. My apologies again. Enjoy your lunch,” he said before he retreated to his table.

I looked at Nick who was possibly aggrieved I had imparted the Russians with our itinerary.

“You wanted us to show our hand. We just showed it. Drink your Champagne. We’re not paying so we should order another bottle,” I said and downed the glass before I recharged them both as the waiter returned to take our meal order.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked.

“Yes I will have the Salmon, with baby-boiled potatoes and a side-salad. He will have the Argentinian twelve-ounce fillet steak, well done with peppercorn sauce, fries and salad. And we’ll have another bottle of Dom Perignon.” I smiled and handed the menu back to the waiter.

“Very good Madame,” the waiter replied. Nick handed the menu back without argument. He looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders.

“I knew what you were going to order.”

“I might have surprised you.”

The wine waiter re-appeared with the obnoxious Sergei’s champagne order. He clapped on its arrival. Before the waiter had the chance to open it he grabbed it from him and held it aloft and pointed in our direction.

“You
see
. The
good
shit! Not like the piss you are drinking
huh
,” he yelled at us before breaking into what I could only conclude to be some sort of Russian drinking song. He then shook the bottle proceeded to point it in Nick’s direction and popped the cork. 

What was less expected for Sergei, and to be honest myself, was the lightning reflex Nick had to catch the speeding cork in mid-air with the sort of reflexes that made me wonder if we were in
The Matrix.
Sergei’s jaw dropped in shock. Nick slowly got up and walked across to the table staring at Sergei who was speechless. Nick put the cork down slowly and firmly on the table in front of him. The raucous party went quiet as Nick looked at them each in turn. Nick grabbed the bottle of Champagne from Sergei and knocked back a swig, swilled it around his mouth before he spat it into Sergei’s face.

“It’s corked. I would ask for another bottle,” he told him coldly before tipping the bottle over Sergei’s head and emptying the expensive liquid contents all over him. 

The other six men at the table with the exception of the wiry, educated looking man all leapt to their feet, produced pistols and pointed them at Nick who remained as calm as a Hindu cow. He looked at them each without a trace of fear before dumping the upturned bottle back in the Champagne bucket.

“There you go Nick. Cat. Pigeons,” I said to myself quietly.

The wiry looking gentleman padded the white cotton napkin on his mouth and carefully folded it before putting it on the table. He looked at Nick.

“On second thoughts I don’t think I will pay for your lunch,” he said as he stood up. “I might suggest you leave today…” he told Nick coldly.

He clicked his fingers at his pocket army. 

“Put your guns away gentleman,” he told them before he departed for the lobby. 

Reluctantly his goons holstered their guns and retreated following him. Sergei dripping with champagne got up. His face was red with rage at Nick’s insult against his male pride as he squared up to him.

“Don’t go anywhere…” he told him. “I’m going to see you and your friend…later.”

Sergei stormed off pulling his soaking wet suit straight. Nick returned to the table and sat down amidst the shocked looks from the rest of the restaurant who had suddenly gone very quiet and were doing their best to ignore this unseemly confrontation. 

 “Well that went well,” I told him breezily.

“I thought so,” Nick told me recharging my empty glass.

“You are so sexy when you are assertive,” I told him.

“Do you think?”

“Of course they are going to kill us as soon as we finish lunch. You know that.”

“It’s just as well we ordered a second bottle then,” he said cheerily toasting my glass.

“You only live once,” I toasted him back.

We ate the rest of our impeccably prepared luncheon without incident. With two bottles of vintage Champagne behind us and the clock yet to strike three it would be fair to say we were to a degree rather inebriated by the time we concluded dessert when it seemed appropriate to determine a course of action given the Russian mob were probably waiting to kill us the minute we returned to our room. An unfortunate annoyance since I really wanted an afternoon nap to sleep off the boozy lunch.

“Now we’ve made the polite introductions how do we get out of the hotel alive?” I asked Nick.

“That’s a good question.”

“For which I’m guessing you don’t have an answer. So did we achieve what we wanted to achieve?”

“Absolutely. We did everything possible to antagonise them and they have no idea who you are. Which is good news since it means they didn’t want to kill you,” said Nick seemingly quite pleased with himself.

“Well that’s very comforting apart from the fact in order to uncover that important nugget of intelligence they actually want to kill me for completely different reasons now,” I pointed out to him.

“Yes but that’s not as serious.”

“I fail to see the difference between being killed or
being killed
.”

“If they wanted to kill you over Vladimir, well then they would bear a grudge until doomsday. Upsetting them over lunch is a much more trivial matter and if we get out of here alive then they will have forgotten all about it by weekend.”

“I’m not sure if that is comforting or not,” I said wondering if the alcohol was distorting Nick’s reasoning.

“It served its purpose.”

“Which was?”

“We know who is in charge.”

“The skinny guy with glasses. You could have just asked him.”

“I did.”

“Correction, you could have asked him without putting us at the top of their
people they want to kill today
list.”

“I thought you liked it when I was assertive? You were complaining I don’t take enough action. Now I took your sort of action and you are complaining. I can’t win.”

“I’m complicated,” I told him.

“You can say that again.” Nick sighed.

“I’m complicated.”

“Very funny.”

“You love it baby.”

“Yes I do.”

“Are we leaving then? I don’t fancy hanging around so Sergei and his chums can cut me to pieces in the presidential suite.”

“It might be a good idea. Apart from the fact we have both been drinking.”

“So?”

“We can’t drink and drive.”

“You are happy to shoot people but not drink and drive? You have a very selective view of law-breaking.”

“I’m more worried about crashing the Aston.”

“I’ll drive then. I drive better when I’m drunk,” I told him.

“That doesn’t say a lot.”

“You are trying to say I’m a bad driver?”

“No.”

“Yes you are. I gave you an Aston and you are insulting my driving!”

“I did not say that!”

“You implied it. The way men always do about women’s driving, and parking. I’m very good at parking. Especially when there is a valet,” I said. “Back to the problem in hand. You know they will be waiting for us in our room.”

“Yes.”

“So we need to get our things and leave.”

“We could just leave without them” Nick suggested.

“No! My favourite shoes are in that room. I want my stuff. And we haven’t had sex in three days.”

“There’s a gang of Russians waiting to kill us and you want to have sex?”

“It’s the danger. It gets me all excited. Plus I’m quite drunk.”

“This is the hardly the appropriate time,” protested Nick.

“Why not? We could be dead in a hour. It could be the last chance we get.”

“I admire your positive thinking.”

“We could have a quickie in the disabled toilets.”

“I’m not having sex with you in the disabled toilets.”

“Why? It’s fun. There are loads of bars and handles. Think of all the positions we could try out. It’s like a sex gym.”

“Because it’s a toilet. It’s not romantic.”

“That’s very sweet. I admire the fact you love me enough to want romantic lovemaking but sometimes a girl just wants a quick dirty fuck.”

“We’re not having sex in the disabled toilets.”

“Alright. In the car.”

“It’s too small.”

“It’s big enough. On the passenger seat.”

“It’s a public car park.”

“Live dangerously!” I said.

“Supposing we are busy having sex in the car and the Russians catch us with our pants down and kill us having sex?”

“Well then we will both die happy.”

“I don’t want to die. Happy or otherwise.”

“So you insult my driving now you won’t have sex with me? This is the death of our relationship!”

“I’m not refusing to have sex with you.”

“We’re going to the car anyway. We’ll need some guns. Kill two birds with one stone. Have a bang then pick up the bang-bang-you’re-dead shooters.”

“We’re not having sex in the car.”

“Spoilsport,” I sulked.

“We better leave out the fire escape. They will have people in the lobby,” Nick told me but without the prospect of a post dinner bunk up I had already lost interest in the entire operation.

Nick led me over to the fire exit on the far side of the restaurant and we disappeared through it into the fire corridor and exited out the back of the hotel via the kitchen and headed through the service entrance into the empty multi-story car-park.

“See? No Russians, perfect dogging spot,” I told him.

We headed across to the car and Nick unlocked it. I got in the passenger side. Nick went round to the boot to get some suitable armaments to take on the Slavic horde.