Under Cover

Chapter 5

       Hannah arrived home from work feeling tired. It had been another long day and all she wanted to do was put her feet up, have a glass of wine and watch TV. Maybe Michael would cook dinner if she promised him a "reward" later, but Michael wasn't home. His job often kept him at work later than her. So she poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down on the couch. Another envelope had been delivered to her car today, another job. She slipped the envelope out of her bag and spread the contents over the coffee table.

This time it was a visiting diplomat from Chicago. Some guy advocating human rights or some such thing. Boring stuff. She looked at his schedule. Dr William Styles would be arriving on the 16th, and would giving a series of talks at the Convention Centre on the 19th, 20th and 21st before flying out on the 22nd. He would be staying at the Fairmont Hotel in the downtown area.

 This would be a difficult job. If she ambushed him in his hotel room there was a chance she would be seen, also there would be security cameras in the hotel. The Convention Centre was also out as it would be too crowded. Hmmm. This was a challenge. She liked challenges.

She took another couple of sips of her wine and sat back in the couch thinking about options.

The sound of the front door closing jolted Hannah awake. Fuck! She had fallen asleep and Michael was home. She furiously gathered up all the papers and photographs, roughly thrusting them back into the envelope. She just managed to push it under the couch a half second before her husband walked into the room.

He looked tired. "Hi sweetheart," he murmured with half a smile, "I think I'll have a glass of that wine."

"You had a busy day too?" she asked as he went to the refrigerator to retrieve the bottle of wine.

"Yes," he sighed, "How about we order dinner in tonight? There's a new takeaway chicken place just down the street and they deliver."

Two hours later, after a meal of chicken, mashed potato, corn and peas, Michael and Hannah fell into bed, both too tired for sex.

"So tell me about your day," Hannah murmured, "Michael?"

But she was too late, Michael was already asleep.

*****
Detective Richards sat back in his chair and sighed in frustration. It was only a week before their assassin would probably strike again, assuming he was keeping to his one hit per month schedule. There were just too many possible high profile people in the city.

O'Connor walked up to his desk. "I have an idea to find out who our next victim will be," he announced, "but it's a bit out there."

"Well we're clutching at straws here, Dan," Richards replied, "I'll try anything. What's your idea?"

"A psychic."

Richards stifled a laugh, "A psychic? Are you joking?"

"Well you said you'd try anything, but I'm not joking, and I know of a woman psychic who helped out with a murder case at Northside about six months ago. They probably wouldn't have solved that case without her help."

Richards stared at O'Connor. "You're serious? Okay, you go and see this psychic, but it will have to be on your own time."

*****
Hannah knocked on the door of Room 512. A moment later a middle aged woman opened the door and smiled at her as Hannah handed her an envelope. 

Hannah returned the smile. "Your airline tickets for you and your husband's return trip to New York next Thursday. You fly out at ten thirty in the morning."

"This is so nice of you," the woman said, "to bring the tickets here in person to the hotel. Your travel agency certainly offers wonderful service."

"Well I could have emailed them to you, but I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I'd drop them by to you. So are you enjoying your stay here at the Fairmont? How's the security here?"

As Hannah walked to the elevators she carefully noted the positions of the security cameras, and noted there were no security staff in the lobby. Her customer had told her they were only on duty after nine o'clock at night. Cameras outside the elevators, fire stairs at the end of the passage on each floor. Valuable intel if she was to carry out the hit here in the hotel.

As she walked back to her car she hoped the police would not connect her travel agency with her last two victims. Both of them had met her before their demise as their travel agent. Poor Julian Hansen had been so surprised to see her in his house. She was the last face he ever saw, his travel agent. She smiled to herself. 

The jobs had kept coming, one per month, and she always delivered on time. She had no idea who her employers were. Maybe it was the Russian KGB, or a rogue faction within the CIA or even the FBI. Her fee was high, but they paid up every time without fail. One hundred thousand dollars into her Swiss bank account in advance, and another one hundred thousand when the job was done.

But this latest job was going to take some careful planning. She would probably have to make the hit in the victim's hotel room. It would be risky, but what the hell. Life wasn't worth living if you didn't take a few risks!
*****
"So what did your psychic say?"

"Well she couldn't be specific," O'Connor replied to Richards' question.

"What a surprise," his partner muttered.

"But she did give us a ball park, sort of," O'Connor continued, "This weekend a visitor to the city, someone with a lot to say, will be in danger. Someone will come out of the night to try and harm them."

"That's not much to go on," Richards said, "Hmmm, someone with a lot to say."

"Someone giving a speech maybe," O'Connor put in, "Like a politician or a sportsman."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Richards said, "but since we have nothing else to go on, check for any visiting high profile people scheduled to give speeches or lectures this weekend."

"Will do. I know it's a long shot," O'Connor replied, "But there's just a chance this psychic might be pointing us in the right direction."