Dillon took out his Walther, checked it, and stuck it in his waistband at the back. He kissed Hannah on the cheek. “We who are about to die and all that good old Roman rubbish. Just stick to the plan. It will work. The great Dillon is never wrong.”
“Oh, get out of here, damn you!” she said angrily, and he did just that.
Harker and Gold waited in silence. After a while, Harker said, “How long are we going to give this guy before I go upstairs? We could be here all night. You got the number of his suite?”
“Sure, I tipped a porter.”
At that moment, the elevator door opened and Dillon stepped out. He moved into the open between rows of cars and lit a cigarette, taking his time.
“It’s him,” Gold said excitedly.
“I’ve got eyes, haven’t I? I seen his picture.” Harker took out a Colt automatic and screwed on a silencer. “Here goes. It’s kiss-of-death time.”
He opened the door, stepped out, and immediately took aim, shooting Dillon in the back twice. Dillon, driven forward, went down on his knees and fell on his face, the back of his jacket smouldering where the bullets had entered.
Blake Johnson jumped from his limousine. “What’s going on there?” he shouted.
Harker fired at him twice, but Blake was already ducking, and Harker leapt into the sedan. “Move it!” he snarled, and Gold gunned the engine, swung out into the aisle, and made for the entrance.
There was total silence and Teddy was already leaning over Dillon, beating out the tiny flames. “Sean, speak to me, for God’s sake.”
“I’m trying to get my bloody breath first.” Dillon got to his knees.
Johnson was on his mobile. He switched it off. “You okay, Sean?”
“Feels like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer twice, but I’ll survive.”
“Just hang in there. The ambulance is on the way,” Blake said. “I’ll call the Brigadier and tell him you’re okay.”
Gold parked three streets away and Harker laughed excitedly. “Did I stiff that little bastard or did I stiff him?”
“You certainly did. A pity that idiot happened to turn up.”
“Ah, screw him. Where’s my money, man?”
Gold took an envelope from his pocket and gave it to him. Harker grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you. I’d get moving if I were you.”
He got out of the sedan and walked away through the rain. Gold followed him. No need to wipe anything, since he’d worn gloves. He walked back to the hotel, unlocked his car, and got in. A few moments later, an ambulance appeared and went in the hotel garage.
Gold got his mobile out and called the special number. “Gold here, mission accomplished.”
“Are you sure?” Judas said.
“Two in the back. I saw him go down myself. An ambulance has just gone in to pick him up.”
“Follow it,” Judas said. “Make sure and contact me again.”
Gold switched off and as the ambulance emerged, turned his ignition key, and went after it.
In the ambulance, Ferguson and Hannah watched as Dillon removed his jacket and shirt. The two rounds were embedded in the bulletproof jacket. Dillon parted the velcro tabs and Johnson helped him off with it.
“You’re going to have one hell of a bruise,” Blake said. “Only two inches between them. That bastard is good. I’ve got a friend at the Washington criminal procedures department who owes me a favor to take a look at the garage security video. He’s going to see if he can identify the men, then he’ll erase our little comedy. All highly illegal.”
“The fella at the wheel would be the Maccabee,” Dillon said as Hannah handed him a clean, checked country shirt. “Our black friend will be hired muscle. We can’t have anyone arrested, that would tip off Judas.”
Hannah gave him a leather bomber jacket. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I could do with a Bushmills whiskey, but that comes later. Did you bring the makeup box from my suitcase?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. I think it’s time for the second act, then.”
Gold braked to a halt and watched the ambulance enter the District Three morgue. There had been no police presence, but then they would be back at the hotel pursuing their inquiries. He waited for quite a while, then took a deep breath, got out of his car, and went in.
The night attendant was a black former Marine sergeant called Tino Hill. He’d known Blake from the old days, when Hill had been an FBI spotter on a monthly retainer to keep an eye out for bad people with their faces on posters.
Blake, Teddy, Ferguson, and Hannah stood in the back office, the door slightly ajar. Dillon was seated at the table, the makeup box open, looking at himself in a small glass while he coated his face, first with a green-white base, then streaked it with false blood.
He turned. “Will I do?”
“You look horrible,” Hannah told him.
“Good. Let’s see what happens.”
“Are you sure about this?” Johnson asked.
“I think Judas will want confirmation.”
The outer bell rang. Johnson peered through the slightly open door. “That’s him, the driver. Do as I told you, Tino.”
Tino went out. “Can I help you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Gold said. “My cousin was supposed to meet me outside the Charlton Hotel and he didn’t come and someone told me there was a shooting.”
“Just wait a minute.”
Tino went back inside, nodded to Dillon, opened a door and led the way into an air-cooled room with several surgical tables containing bodies, three of which were naked, the rest draped with sheets.
“Ready for the pathologists in the morning,” he said. “Okay, Mr. Dillon, up you go.”
Dillon lay on a vacant table and Tino covered him with a sheet, went out, nodded to the others, and confronted Gold.
“Now let’s see.” He looked in his register. “You say near the Charlton?”
“That’s right.”
“What was your cousin’s name?”
“Dillon.” Gold almost whispered it.
“Hey, that’s the victim of the shooting at the Charlton garage. They just brought him in. Will you identify him?”
“If I must.”
“Okay. This way, and if you feel like vomiting, run for the green door.”
In the receiving room, Gold paused, shocked particularly by the sight of the naked dead bodies. “Don’t look good, do they?” Tino said. “Comes to us all. Mind you, look at the size of the dick on the one at the end. I sure as hell believe he had a good time.”
Gold breathed deeply. Tino slipped the sheet, revealing Dillon’s face only. His eyes were fixed and staring. He looked truly dreadful and Gold did indeed run for the green door, where he found himself in a lavatory, and was thoroughly sick.
When he came out, Tino led him through to the front desk. “Can I have your details, sir? The police will need them.”
“I’m too distressed now,” Gold said. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” and he hurried out.
In the back room, Blake switched off his mobile. “I’ve got an unmarked car to follow him. We’ll leave him in place, naturally. If we didn’t, Judas would be unhappy, but I’d like to know who he is for future reference.”
“And the shooter,” Teddy said, “he gets away with it, too? A bastard like that.”
“I know, Teddy, but guys like that could get it on the street any night.”
Dillon came in, sat down, took cleansing cream from the makeup kit, got rid of the grunge on his face, then washed at a sink in the corner.
He smiled as he toweled it off. “Frightened the bastard to death.”
Blake’s phone rang. He listened, then said, “Thanks, owe you a favor.” He looked at them. “My friend at criminal procedures. He recognized the shooter at once, one Nelson Harker. The driver’s face was obscure. Harker is a number-one hit man, who frightens the hell out of people so much, no one will ever testify. He lives on Flower Street.”
“Will you visit him?” Hannah asked.