Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Klempner

Damn phone…

What’s wrong with the fucking thing?

I tap in again. Nothing happens.

I’m several floors up, heading back for my hotel room. The signal should be strong up here.

I inspect the screen…

Yes… plenty of signal…

Better contact Dakho… Get him to supply a new one…

A more reliable model this time…

Arriving at my room door…

… A brief shufti along the corridor…

… I’m alone. A quick inspection that my slicked-on hair is still in place…

… It is… a faint dark line against the white paint, which peels away, then drops to the floor as I slide the card into the lock and push the door open…

I toss the useless phone onto my bed then start to shrug off my jacket…

… and in mid-movement, I stall.

My spine prickles and without meaning to, I’m standing stock-still, Glock in hand, staring around the apartment.

What’s wrong?

Working on automatic, my hand follows my eye, weapon aimed, but…

I don’t see anything.

Nothing has moved.

Nothing has changed.

a vase

carpet still lies in vacuumed stripes, with only

Really?

one of the existing

the balcony, folded up on the table, alongside my breakfast tray. And the balcony is small, with nowhere for an intruder

my feet silently, I cross the floor, turn the handle of the bedroom door. With a subdued click, it swings

made, and beside the pillows, a pair of bath-towels folded, for some inexplicable reason,

do they do

the usual tea and coffee kit, biscuits, a

length, I flick open

clothes. And while shirts garishly printed with pineapples and palm trees might be an offence to

Only one place left…

to the door of

for a long second… ear cocked… gun at the ready…

the mixed warbles and screeches of birds, the hiss

back, thrusting out, I kick the door and it bangs

alarming than a tidemark around the bath where I’ve washed away the sweat of the day and the maid has been

my alarms are

What triggered it?

my heart plays percussion against

Calm down…

Breathe…

Think…

What happened?

barely

Outside then…

Something in the corridor…

the gun-barrel at the ceiling, I dart a look outside. The corridor is still empty; nothing to