everywhere for any
paperwork relating to the plot of land he was going to sell to Pellaggio, then
clean the entire scene of any trace I’d been there, then leave.
That was the plan anyway.
However, as the door opened, it wasn’t
Ted Jackson stood in front of me. It was a tall, gorgeous, leather-clad woman.
She was holding a gun in a very steady hand, and she was aiming it right
between my eyes.
Shit!
The seconds that passed between us felt
like hours. For me, at least. The silence was deafening, and everything seemed
to freeze. My mind was racing, purposefully, rushing to find a solution that
didn’t involve me being shot.
There weren’t many, I’ll be honest.
I soon came to the conclusion that if
she wanted me dead, I would be. Therefore, it’s probably best to let this play
out for now, until I was in a better position.
‘Hi,’ she said. Her accent was hard to
pinpoint. It sounded like a blend of different European countries, with a hint
of American.
‘Hey,’ I replied.
‘Room service? That’s original.’
‘Well, you know what they say: if it ain’t
broke...’
‘Send a fixer?’
‘Something like that.’
For a moment, I thought I saw her let
slip a small, half smile. But I could be wrong. I wasn’t really looking
anywhere but at the end of the gun that was pointing at my face.
‘Do come in,’ she said.
I stepped inside the suite. It really
was huge. I took a quick glance around, absorbing everything. The layout and the
position of the doors and the furniture. I glanced over at Jackson, who was
still sat at his desk, but had turned around to see what was happening. His
face showed more disinterest than concern - clearly a level-headed guy who’s no
stranger to dangerous situations. Interesting.
I turned around to face the woman, who
still hadn’t moved the gun even a millimeter. She looked very similar to when I
first saw her yesterday afternoon. Her dyed blonde hair was long and slightly
curly, resting on her shoulders. She had dark green eyes, which were very
pretty, but there was no emotion in them - none at all.
She was starting to concern me, simply
for the fact she was so at ease with pointing a gun at me. Most people, even
seasoned veterans at such things, will be on edge a little when holding a gun
on someone. Don’t let anyone tell you different. And don’t believe what you see
on TV. If you have a gun on someone, your whole body is tense. You’re trying to
remain calm, as the slightest wrong movement could accidentally kill someone.
Your finger has to maintain the right amount of pressure on the trigger, and
the slightest movement that you’ve not anticipated, and your twitch muscles will
kick in and your gun will fire off a round. You also have to consider every
eventuality around you, such as the person you’re pointing your gun at making a
move on you. If they do, you have to maintain control of your gun to avoid it
going off in any struggle that might unfold. Finally, you have to prepare
yourself for pulling the trigger and being so close to the body that you see
the effects. You only learn to deal with those things, and be more calm and
natural when faced with them, after many years of experience. Right now, this
woman was showing she has roughly the same amount of experience I do.
She took a step toward me and leant in
close. She reached behind me and took my gun out of my pants.
‘You won’t be needing this,’ she said.
She threw it on the floor without a second thought.
‘I want that back, it’s very special to
me,’ I said.
She raised her eyebrow.
‘I’m gonna put my tray down now, okay?’
I continued. ‘Just letting you know so you don’t shoot me or anything.’
‘Go for it,’ she said.
I had the tray in both hands. I knelt
down to place it on the floor, but at the last minute, I frizbeed the tray into
her legs, right on the knees. It caught her off guard and she lost her balance,
causing her to lower her gun. I jumped back up and stepped in
paperwork relating to the plot of land he was going to sell to Pellaggio, then
clean the entire scene of any trace I’d been there, then leave.
That was the plan anyway.
However, as the door opened, it wasn’t
Ted Jackson stood in front of me. It was a tall, gorgeous, leather-clad woman.
She was holding a gun in a very steady hand, and she was aiming it right
between my eyes.
Shit!
The seconds that passed between us felt
like hours. For me, at least. The silence was deafening, and everything seemed
to freeze. My mind was racing, purposefully, rushing to find a solution that
didn’t involve me being shot.
There weren’t many, I’ll be honest.
I soon came to the conclusion that if
she wanted me dead, I would be. Therefore, it’s probably best to let this play
out for now, until I was in a better position.
‘Hi,’ she said. Her accent was hard to
pinpoint. It sounded like a blend of different European countries, with a hint
of American.
‘Hey,’ I replied.
‘Room service? That’s original.’
‘Well, you know what they say: if it ain’t
broke...’
‘Send a fixer?’
‘Something like that.’
For a moment, I thought I saw her let
slip a small, half smile. But I could be wrong. I wasn’t really looking
anywhere but at the end of the gun that was pointing at my face.
‘Do come in,’ she said.
I stepped inside the suite. It really
was huge. I took a quick glance around, absorbing everything. The layout and the
position of the doors and the furniture. I glanced over at Jackson, who was
still sat at his desk, but had turned around to see what was happening. His
face showed more disinterest than concern - clearly a level-headed guy who’s no
stranger to dangerous situations. Interesting.
I turned around to face the woman, who
still hadn’t moved the gun even a millimeter. She looked very similar to when I
first saw her yesterday afternoon. Her dyed blonde hair was long and slightly
curly, resting on her shoulders. She had dark green eyes, which were very
pretty, but there was no emotion in them - none at all.
She was starting to concern me, simply
for the fact she was so at ease with pointing a gun at me. Most people, even
seasoned veterans at such things, will be on edge a little when holding a gun
on someone. Don’t let anyone tell you different. And don’t believe what you see
on TV. If you have a gun on someone, your whole body is tense. You’re trying to
remain calm, as the slightest wrong movement could accidentally kill someone.
Your finger has to maintain the right amount of pressure on the trigger, and
the slightest movement that you’ve not anticipated, and your twitch muscles will
kick in and your gun will fire off a round. You also have to consider every
eventuality around you, such as the person you’re pointing your gun at making a
move on you. If they do, you have to maintain control of your gun to avoid it
going off in any struggle that might unfold. Finally, you have to prepare
yourself for pulling the trigger and being so close to the body that you see
the effects. You only learn to deal with those things, and be more calm and
natural when faced with them, after many years of experience. Right now, this
woman was showing she has roughly the same amount of experience I do.
She took a step toward me and leant in
close. She reached behind me and took my gun out of my pants.
‘You won’t be needing this,’ she said.
She threw it on the floor without a second thought.
‘I want that back, it’s very special to
me,’ I said.
She raised her eyebrow.
‘I’m gonna put my tray down now, okay?’
I continued. ‘Just letting you know so you don’t shoot me or anything.’
‘Go for it,’ she said.
I had the tray in both hands. I knelt
down to place it on the floor, but at the last minute, I frizbeed the tray into
her legs, right on the knees. It caught her off guard and she lost her balance,
causing her to lower her gun. I jumped back up and stepped in
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