Sympathy For the Devil (28 page)

A
S SOON
as he reached Times Square, Hicks checked his handheld to get an exact lock on Djebar’s location. Djebar’s security detail’s Escalade was still parked on the street next to the hotel and hadn’t been moved since Hicks had first located it on OMNI. A high roller like Djebar was above taking cabs or subways. He’d prefer to roll deep with an armed posse and a fancy car to take him where he wanted to go.

Hicks liked to take down his targets while they stayed at hotels. If you went in at the right time of day, security paid no attention and the magnetic key card locks were a joke. Reaching a target in a huge place like the Millennium Hotel was a piece of cake. Djebar would be no different.

The only tricky part would be the security detail he had with him. The fact they were twice his size didn’t bother him. From what he’d seen on the traffic camera, they were muscle bound and slow. Street thugs in suits who used to their size as their best deterrent.

But the fact they were armed would make it harder to avoid a firefight and Hicks wanted to avoid a firefight at all costs. Gunfire would bring cops and cops would shine more light on this thing than Hicks could afford, especially now.

He'd have to do this the old fashioned way—fast and by hand.

T
HE LOBBY
of the Millennium Hotel was too crowded for any of the staff to notice Hicks take the elevator upstairs. He’d checked the car as he’d walked by it and wasn’t surprised to see it was empty. That meant Djebar still only had a two man team with him; both either in the hallway outside the room or inside watching the door. He’d find out soon enough. Killing them wouldn’t be a problem. Not killing them would be the challenge. He’d have to hit them hard and fast before one of them started firing.

Hicks had changed into the same blue coveralls and blue hat he’d worn to the storage facility. He knew there were cameras in the elevator, so he kept his head down as he subtly slipped his hand in his pocket; wriggling his right hand into a pair of brass knuckles he liked to use on such occasions. He knew there was a chance the footage from the elevator camera would be viewed before OMNI would scrub it if things went sideways. He didn’t want to give them a better look at him if he could avoid it. No sense in doing the cops’ jobs for them.

As soon as he got off on Djebar’s floor, Hicks spotted one of the security men standing in the hall; the bigger, balder of the two from the Escalade. He was sitting on a chair at the far end of the hall.

Hicks waived as he quickly walked toward him; yelling, “Hey! You the guys who complained about the water pressure? Room 1040?”

The guard began walking toward him and motioned for him to be quiet. “Not so loud, my man! Some people are trying to sleep.”

Hicks kept walking toward him. “I don’t mean no disrespect or nothin’, mister, but I got a job to do here.” Ten feet away now. “I didn’t ask for this job, you know? I ain’t even supposed to be here today. This was supposed to be my day off, and I ain’t even gettin’ time and a half for this shit.”

The guard squared up to block Hicks’ path. Three feet away. “I told you once to be quiet and I’m not gonna tell you again. I don’t know…”

Hicks fired a straight right hand and buried the brass knuckles into the bigger man’s face; shattering his nose. Hicks grabbed the bigger man before he fell over and slammed him face-first against the wall. He dropped the knuckles in his pocket and pulled the .9milimeter Glock from the holster on the guard’s belt. He chambered a round and placed the muzzle against the back of the guard’s head. “Open the door and go inside like nothing’s wrong. Do what I say and everyone goes home. You get stupid or brave; I blow your fucking head off.” He pushed the barrel harder into the man’s neck. “Do you understand?”

The big man was busy trying to stem his bleeding nose with his fingers. “You broke my fucking nose, man.”

Hicks grabbed him by the back of the collar and pushed him toward the door. “Inside. Now.”

The guard put his key in the lock and opened the door. Hicks put a shoulder into the guard’s back and sent him stumbling forward. As the big man fell into the room, Hicks heeled the door shut and aimed the Glock at the first man he saw.

It was the other guard, the shorter and leaner of the two, caught flat on his ass on the couch watching television. As surprised as he was, he was smart enough to hold up his hands. “We’re cool, baby. We’re cool.”

“Where’s Djebar?” The man on the couch looked genuinely confused, so Hicks said, “Your boss. The man you’re protecting. Where is he?”“He ain’t here. He’s out with a friend.”

“Bullshit. If you’re here, he’s here.” Hicks lowered the gun until it was aimed the guard’s crotch. “Last chance. Where is he?”

The guard motioned toward the closed bedroom door. “In there. Sleeping it off. Had some company last night and he hit it pretty hard. Ain’t been out of his room all day.”

The guard with the broken nose was trying to get to his feet, but Hicks put a shoe to his ass and pushed him down again. “Go crawl to your buddy over there on the couch.” And to the guard on the sofa, he said, “I could’ve killed both of you by now, couldn’t I?”

The man swallowed; nodded.

“But I didn’t, did I?”The man shook his head.

“That’s because I don’t want you dead. You play this smart, everyone keeps on living. That’s why you’re going to open your jacket real slow and take your gun out with your thumb and index finger. Do it real slow, then toss it on that chair over there.”

The guard did exactly as he’d been told to do. Hicks said, “Now give your friend a hand and help him up on the couch. Make sure he keeps his head back. It’ll help with the bleeding a little.”

Hicks kept the Glock aimed at them as he went over to the bedroom door. He was just about to put his hand on the knob when the door opened and a smiling Rachid Djebar came out, already dressed in tan pants and a white shirt. Clean shaven, too, like he was walking into a board meeting.

“Good morning, my friend,” the Algerian smiled. “I take it you have come here to discuss something with me.”

Hicks grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the living area. He pushed him against the wall; keeping his gun on the guards with one hand as he patted down Djebar for a weapon.

Djebar laughed the entire time. “Why would I spend money paying these men to protect me if I carried a weapon of my own?” He looked over at the two men. “Given how easily you got in here, though, perhaps it is something I should consider.”

Hicks knew he should’ve checked the bathroom and the bedroom to make sure they were clear, but there was only one of him and three of them.

Instead, he took his handheld off mute, and said, “All clear. Get up here right away.”

Djebar straightened out his rumpled shirt. He wasn’t a large man, but his clothes made him look bigger than he really was. But it was clear they were expensive, maybe Saville Row if Hicks had time to check the labels, which he didn’t.

“Ah, I see you have brought friends,” Djebar said, his English clear with just a hint of a French accent. He looked like an alert, eager young man, not like the conniving fifty year old power-broker Hicks knew him to be. “That is good as I always like meeting new friends.”

Hicks stepped far enough away so he could cover all three men from a good angle. “We’re not friends, Ace. And you’re going to find that out soon enough.”

“Don’t be silly,” Djebar smiled. “I get along with all sorts of people, as I’m sure you know well.”

“What makes you think I know anything about you?”

“Because I am still alive and if you were here to kill me, all of us would be dead by now. You said so yourself to these men here. And if you were a policeman come to arrest me, there would’ve been far more of you. That leaves only one logical conclusion: you must be interested in my line of business. Perhaps my matchmaking abilities? Either you want me to serve as a matchmaker between you and another party or you wish to discuss my past previous clients.” The Algerian shrugged. “As I profit from both making and telling, I see no reason why I should be concerned.”

And Hicks saw no reason to tell him anything. “Just shut your mouth and stand there.”

But the Algerian was undaunted. He leaned on the back of the large chair that faced the couch where the two guards were sitting. Behind them, a corner view that looked out ten stories above Times Square. Djebar looked back at the view over his shoulder and flashed Hicks his best salesman’s smile.

“A million dollar view, is it not? Maybe more since a million doesn’t buy as much as it once did. From here, we have a clear view of where the ball drops on New Year’s Eve and the daily hustle and bustle of Times Square; the Crossroads of the World. We have the exceptional above and the mundane below, none of which can be fully appreciated by being in the middle of it. One must see it from a distance in order to appreciate the dichotomy, doesn’t one? A distance, for example, which those of us up here can enjoy. A distance—a perspective, if you will—that can only be attained through money. That’s all it takes in your country. In most of the world, really? Have enough money for a suite like this and you can have it. Have enough money and enough influence and you can have this suite whenever you want it. But without money, where are you?” He pointed to the street. “Down there with the rest of the people, crawling around like ants, looking up; never knowing just how insignificant they are until its too late. This is your America, Mr. Hicks. The country you kill for. And the country you’ll one day die for.”

Hicks should’ve guessed Djebar might’ve known his name. “You know who I am.”

“How could I not?” Djebar said. “You dealt with an old mentor of mine in Karachi years ago. When I was still an apprentice and you an American operative. You wouldn’t remember me, but I certainly remember you. And that is why I know you are an honorable man with whom I can work. So let us get down to business and discuss why you have come to see me today.”

Hicks had been in Karachi several times, but didn’t know which mentor Djebar was talking about and he didn’t remember Djebar. There were always young people around; all of them listening and hoping the American will notice them. Maybe give them a job and a way back to America.

He heard a knock at the hotel door, followed by two knocks. The signal he’d agreed upon with his partner. “You might want to hold off on the praise. I’ve got a feeling your opinion of me is about to change for the worse.”

Hicks opened the door and stepped aside to give Roger Cobb enough room to push a wheelchair into the room. A black medical bag was on the seat.

And Djebar was not smiling any more.

But Hicks was. “You might remember Roger from Karachi. He was with me.”

Djebar looked at the wheelchair and the medical bag and subconsciously took half a step back.

“He was there?” Roger appraised him from head to toe, then smiled. “Handsome boy. I would’ve remembered. Did we party?”

Djebar looked at the bag on the wheelchair and took another step back. “Whatever you are planning to do to me, it won’t work. I’ve been trained to resist all forms of interrogation.”

“Good. I love a challenge.” Roger took a syringe out of his pocket and removed the plastic top. “This is just a little medicine to help you relax. We’re old friends from Karachi, remember? We’re going to get real close, you and me. Very, very close.” As he began walking toward Djebar, the Algerian took one step back and then another until he was against the wall with nowhere to go.

Roger’s tone was almost soothing. “Oh, come now. It’s not as bad as all that. Just one little pinch and we’ll all be on our way.”

Djebar pushed off the wall and tried to run, but Roger caught him by the throat; as quick and clean as a cobra striking a rat. The Algerian gagged as Roger pulled the smaller man toward him and injected the clear contents of the syringe into his neck.

Hicks pushed the wheelchair forward in time for Djebar to fall into it. Within a few seconds, Djebar’s chin was on his chest, drooling.

Roger took a thin hospital blanket from his bag and wrapped it around Djebar. “That should keep him upright for the ride ahead.”

The guard whose nose wasn’t broken asked, “Where are you taking him? What are you doing to him?”

“You don’t want to know that,” Hicks said as he took the guard’s gun off the chair and began to strip it. “In fact, we were never here and none of this ever happened.”

The guard thought about it for a moment. “My man here needs help. His nose is busted and bleeding bad.” He looked at Roger. “You some kind of doctor? Maybe you can help?”

“Healing isn’t exactly my forte,” Roger said as he grabbed his bag and approached the guard with the broken nose, but I’ll see what I can do.” He reached into his bag for some forceps and gauze and began to tend to the broken nose.

Hicks spoke to the other guard. “We’ve already closed out Djebar’s account with your company. I made sure he paid it in full with a damned generous tip for you guys for doing such a good job. We’ve also seen to it that Djebar has paid for this room through the weekend. And his AmEx Black Card is still wide open, so make sure you enjoy it.”