“Hello Shaun.”
“Tony.” Shaun could feel a single cold droplet of sweat slowing edging it’s way down his back, curving through the hairs that now stood at right angles against Shaun’s neck. He always found himself immensely nervous whilst talking to Tony.
“Yes Shaun.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“Now, now Shaun, remember what I said. You must cease this paranoia.”
“Right”.
“Yes Shaun.” A pause that could have lasted an hour was upon Shaun.
“Why did you call?” Shaun could bear the silence no longer.
“It appears that I am going to be late for our meeting today Shaun, and for that I am deeply sorry.”
“Ok”.
“I do hope that is all right with you Shaun”.
“Yes.”
“Then I shall see you soon”.
“Yes.” Shaun put down the phone. He was out of breath and his heart was hammering against his chest.
The now very irritable Shaun lay back on his bed and returned to his thoughts of the blood - spattered sheets. He imagined a man waiting here, not knowing how very close he was to his final breath. He imagined the man looking through the spy hole to see his murderers waiting for him and with a sudden surge of adrenaline, ran to the window, which had thick iron bars preventing escape. He would then run to the bathroom for other means of escape, to find that the vent in the ceiling much too small, even for a scrawny man to crawl through, (this was how Shaun imagined the victim). The man would then withdraw the handgun from his rucksack and shot himself in the head, explaining the blood.
After replaying this thought in his head for several minutes, it was apparent to Shaun why there had been an iron plate fixed over the spy hole and that his very purpose for staying in this hotel was extremely obvious, and that any minute now Tony and his crew of hit men were on their way to the hotel that Shaun was staying to do what Shaun never believed possible. They had probably visited this hotel many times before. Shaun couldn’t imagine why Tony wanted him dead but all he knew was that he needed to get out fast. He retraced the previous victim’s steps; first he looked out of the window to find Tony’s car parked outside. They were inside. Shaun retraced his imaginary victim’s steps; first he banged to the heavy iron bars in front of the window, then he found the vent in the bathroom too small. Desperate to escape Shaun caught his reflection in the mirror. It is so rare that a man sees his own expression when fear is upon him. We see it so commonly on those of others around us but it is truly strange your own face when death is upon you, this is what Shaun found himself gazing at.
Bang.
Shaun jumped. They were here. Shaun looked through the spy hole, three men, two in black suits, one in crème, Tony stood there waiting for him. Shaun grabbed the handgun from his rucksack. He swung open the door and opened fire. He heard the shots and saw a crème suit fall to ground. Antonio Wallace. Out of bullets, Shaun dropped his gun, turned and ran back in to his room. More gunfire. The two remaining suits were firing on Shaun now. Realising that the walls that separated the rooms were consisted of a single panel of MDF, Shaun charged at full speed at the wall. He crashed his way through five walls until he came to a corridor. He ran as fast as he could, when he felt a bullet fly past his ear, causing instinct turn 90° away from the bullet and break down another wall. He zigzagged his way through more walls until he reached some stairs. Shaun leapt down them and ran out of the hotel.
“Vincent, why did you bring us this way?” questioned Tony.
“I’m sorry sir, I thought we would miss the traffic this way sir.”
“Well we didn’t, did we Vincent?”
“No, I’m sorry sir.”
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again Vince-. What is going on here?”
“I think we have run over some nails sir, it’ll be the homeless kids.”
“Ah- I shall have to phone Shaun and apologise for our lack of punctuality. Hand me the phone please Vincent.”
Vincent was sitting in the front of the car, next to the driver, Etienne. Etienne was a strange character in Vincent’s eyes, strange, but admirably cool and sophisticated. Sometimes Vincent could not help but stare at Etienne; he just loved watching him puff away on his cigar. “Vincent hand me the phone please.”
“Oh…I’m sorry sir”
“No matter Vincent, just help Etienne change the tyre.”
“Right away sir.”
After the Vincent an Etienne had changed the punctured tyre, they and Tony continued on their journey to Shaun’s hotel room. They drove through the dusty roads until they were parked outside the hotel.
“Etienne, was it you who organized the location of the meeting?”
“Yes boss,” replied Etienne uncertainly.
“And why may I ask have you chosen such a disgusting hotel for Shaun to stay in?”
“I am sorry boss, I thought it slightly more respectable. Etienne
“Poor Shaun, having to wait hours, for us only to be late, and in a despicable hotel. I think you should apologise to Shaun when we arrive Etienne”.
“You want us to come too boss?” Questioned Etienne.
“Yes. Is this a problem Etienne? If it is, please don’t be afraid to ask.” Tony glared at Etienne.
“No, of course not boss,” said Etienne quickly.
“I thought so.”
Vincent had to smile at the fact that, Antonio Wallace could, still easily manipulate a man even a man with a persona like Etienne’s.
They made their way up the stairs to Shaun’s hotel room.
Bang.
And they waited. Waited for Shaun to open the door. The door swung open and Tony fell. Etienne and Vincent could do nothing but stare at his bloody on the ground for almost half a minute, until they grabbed their own pistols and chased after Shaun, who was ploughing his way through the hotel walls.
Rain was now pounding on Shaun’s forehead as his heart was against his chest. It felt like he had been running for hours. He felt as though each step drove a dagger in his feet, heart and lungs, but he could not stop. He knew the two suits were right behind him, and that they would not rest until Antonio was avenged. He could hear the sound of their footsteps splashing in the rain. Shaun knew they were fitter than him and that very slowly they were catching up and he knew that when they did get to him, he would certainly be killed.
Vincent could barely see Shaun through the rain; he had to run fast to make out Shaun’s shoes whipping round the corners ahead. He didn’t bear to look at Etienne in case he lost sight of Shaun, but he could here Etienne’s heavy breathing from beside him. He knew that he and Etienne had only one thought in their minds. They must grant Tony justice. They had no idea why Shaun wanted Tony dead, but that didn’t matter now. Just revenge.
Shaun could not believe it. He had run on to a long, narrow alleyway. With nowhere to turn, there was no way the suits wouldn’t shoot. He was going to be killed in a matter of seconds; he knew it.
Bang
It was over now. Shaun did not think he was dying. He felt only turbulence as his legs collapsed beneath him. He could hear nothing. He felt nothing. No flashbacks of his life, just a feeling of cold that was oozing through his veins, transporting an icy feeling all through his body and a haze that washed over his eyes that increasingly became darker and denser.
