This is the fourth installment in the Murdoc's Greatest Hits-series. Because of its length it is posted separately.
Story is set in 1981.
-oOo-
Murdoc had always had an eye for detail. Details were crucial. A matter of life and death at times. He had run over the plan in its entirety in his head three or four times. Looked at every eventuality, every possible hick-up. If something went wrong Murdoc knew how to respond. No spur of the moment, rash decisions, but calm, calculated action.
This was how it was going down: a little past nine in the morning Paola, the fifth floor maid, would call in sick. She would send a replacement. At 10.15 he would report as her cousin Francesca. No hable inglés, but have come to replace cousin. At 10.35 Francesca would push the cart with fresh linen and towels out of the elevator on the fifth floor. He would start with the rooms on the odd side. That was not Paola's routine, but he wasn't Paola. Room 511 would have a guard sitting outside. The guard would want to check whether he was carrying any weapons amongst the towels and bed linen he was carrying and then let him into the room. Change the towels, superficially clean the bathroom, leave new set of soap and shampoo -- if needed -- change the bed linen and place the bomb underneath the bed.
He would wear the bomb on his person, strapped into his brassiere. Unless the guard wanted a full strip search he would not find it. If the guard wanted him to strip down, Murdoc would just have to be quicker and shoot him with the gun disguised as a toilet brush. This would alarm the witness. Using the guard's gun he would shoot the lock out of the door and kick the door in. A third shot would take out the witness. At this point the hotel would be fully alarmed and an additional set of security guards would be rushing up to the room. Murdoc would have to leave through a window.
He much preferred the original plan. He would place the bomb underneath the bed and activate it. The bomb was radio controlled and would detonated 10 seconds after the phone in room 511 rang. Murdoc would cross the hall to room 516 and park the cart in such a way the guard would not see him sneak out of the room to the staircase. At the ground floor he would place a call to room 511. Then he would leave, preferably through a door.
Murdoc looked himself over in the mirror. He looked Hispanic enough to pass as Paola's cousin. He got up and checked whether he had everything he needed packed up in the overnight bag. He zipped it up and put on a jacket. It was time to push Paola down a flight of stairs.
-oOo-
Phase one had been completed successfully. Murdoc casually dropped a towel on the floor while he maneuvered the domestic cart out of the elevator at the fifth floor of the hotel. It was a posh hotel, Murdoc noted, posher than he had gathered from the blueprints or his surveillance. He appreciated there was a special lift for the domestics. He was the last one to go up, so it would be unlikely anyone would be bothered much by the lift being out of order for a while. He pushed the cart around the corner and saw the guard sitting outside room 511. He was reading a magazine. Murdoc knew from experience that stake outs could get boring, but if you let your attention slip that was when the important things happened.
He parked the cart before room 517, opened the door with the pass key, took two sets of fresh bed linen of the pile and went into the room. He put the clean linen on the side table and stripped the beds. He didn't bother making the beds. It was unlikely the guard would come into the room and check on him. The guard would, or for this particular case better should, notice if he didn't leave the room with any dirty linen. A couple more trips in and out of the room to make it look like he was a proper domestic, lock the door and on to the next room, play out the same routine.
As Murdoc returned from room 515 with an arm full of bed linen he heard the guard make some unpleasant noises. He looked over and saw him lying on the ground, convulsing. He felt a gun press against his head, just above his left ear.
"Now would be a good time to just start walking and don't look back," a woman's voice said.
Murdoc didn't reply. He felt for the toilet brush on the cart and probed the woman's abdomen with it.
"What's that? You gonna bludgeon me to death with a toilet brush?"
"Guess again." Murdoc cocked the fire mechanism on the toilet brush.
"Something tells me you're not the average latino maid."
"What possibly could have given me away?"
"The accent actually. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same. What did you do to the guard?"
"Nothing. Neurotoxin did that. Are you a cop?"
"If I were I would have warned you of that already. By the same token, I doubt you're a cop either."
"Then who are you?"
"I think we're here for the same reasons."
The woman seemed to give this a moment's ponder. "They double booked us? I thought only hotel rooms got double booked, not hotel room killings."
"You live, you learn."
Not that Murdoc appreciated the situation. An assassination was complicated enough without having to deal with competition. He'd never ran into a 'colleague' before, and he wondered why he ran into one now. Was it because he'd been out of it for a while? Did they think he wasn't up to it anymore? Or was the client a bit of a nervous wrack and had he set out the assignment in a few different places. HIT usually investigated those things. They turned down the job if it hadn't be exclusively offered to them. Or were there perhaps more people who wanted this person dead?
"What are we gonna do about this situation?" The woman broke into his thoughts.
"You could start by putting down your weapon."
"You first."
Neither of them moved. At the other end of the hall way the elevator gave off a ping, announcing it had arrived. They both turned their attention to the elevator and saw two men come out. The men turned into the hall way, saw the guard, who had stopped convulsing, lying cramped up on the ground, then they saw the two assassins, one holding a gun to the other's head.
"What's going on here?" One of them shouted. Both of them reached for their guns.
The woman shot one of them in a knee cap. Murdoc shot the other one in the shoulder. They turned around and ran away. The woman turned right, towards the staircase. Murdoc turned left and saw he had made a mistake. There was nothing there but a fire extinguisher and a big potted plant. A bullet lodged itself in the wall. They were shooting at him. There was no way back, no way out. Unless. Murdoc grabbed the handle of a lid that was concealed in the wall. It opened. Garbaged shoot, laundry shoot, it didn't matter to Murdoc. It was big enough for him to fit through.
Murdoc landed in a big pile of laundry and immediately rolled out of the way. Someone was shooting down the shoot. He scrambled up and quickly made his way out of the basement and out of the hotel.
-oOo-
A new development in the Paco Juárez trial. At around eleven this morning two women tried to forcibly gain access to the secure hotel room where Vincente Diaz, key witness in the Juárez trial, is staying in protective custody. The suspects poisoned one guard; he was taken to the hospital in critical condition. The women were frustrated in their attempt to gain access to Diaz' hotel room when unexpectedly a relief crew of security appeared. Gun fire was exchanged and both security officers were wounded. The women managed to escape. Diaz has been moved to an unknown location. His testimony in the ...
Murdoc turned off the television in passing. So the woman had escaped too. Too bad, she should have gotten caught for botching up his job. On the other hand, with her still on the loose, he would derive great pleasure from hunting her down and teaching her a lesson. There weren't that many female assassins; she should be relatively easy to find. Murdoc was sure it was a woman. He had not been able to get a good look of her, only heard her talk. And no one, in his opinion, was that good a voice artist that they could fool him. Besides, her approach didn't require a disguise so why would she bother?
He took a sip of his wine and put the glass back on the counter. The woman had a pretty distinct MO: she poisoned the guard at the door. Most would have opted for either distracting or shooting the guard. What did she say she used? A neurotoxin. A synthetic or a natural one? Murdoc picked up his glass and walked over to the book case in his loft. He ran his eyes down the rows of titles on the shelves. He picked one out and sat down with it in the easy chair facing the book case.
Paging through the book his mind started working. He swirled the white-golden liquid in his glass. He grinned wickedly at himself. He got a few nice ideas that would take care of Diaz and perhaps also get that woman out of the way. He would have to go shopping in the morning. That was okay, the earliest time he could get at Diaz would probably be just before he were to give testimony anyway. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He set to work on the details of his new plan.
-oOo-
The shop bell rang of Sam's Terrarium Pets as Murdoc stepped into the shop. He gave it an angry look and closed the door behind him. The light in the shop was dim. Straight ahead of him stood a small terrarium with some small plants and moss and an odd arrangement of wood and rocks. Murdoc didn't see a spider, but he thought it might be in hiding. He heard someone coughing and looked up. He straightened his back and looked over the terrarium at a man in his early fifties wearing a t-shirt that frayed at the collar. Murdoc presumed it was Sam.
"Nice looking rosehair in there." The man nodded at the terrarium.
"He seems shy."
"They're always a bit skittish. But they're docile too and can be safely handled."
"Hmm." Murdoc glanced down at the terrarium. "Actually I didn't come to buy a spider. I heard you also sell specialties."
"Specialties are for special costumers."
"And how does one become a special costumer?"
"One has to fill out a registration form."
Murdoc took some money from his inside pocket and put it on the lid of the terrarium of the rosehair. "I previously filled out a form. Does it have all the information you need?"
Sam took the money, counted the bills, folded them up and stuck them in his back pocket. "I'm sorry, I hadn't recognized you from your earlier visit, Mr Franklin."
Murdoc gave him a measly smile.
"What kind of specialties are you interested in? Spider, snake?"
"No snakes," Murdock quickly replied. "Just spiders."
"Come with me. I've got some samples in the back."
Murdoc followed Sam to a back office, or rather, a brightly lit, sterile laboratory. Sam sat down on a stool and indicated Murdoc should do the same. Murdoc preferred to remain standing near the door.
"What kind of stuff do you need?"
"The really potent stuff."
"What are you gonna use it for?"
"A cocktail party. I thought I'd put something different in the ice cubes than the same old cherry or a little worm."
"Sorry I asked."
"You should be." Murdoc gave him a folded piece of paper. "I looked a few things up. Do you have any of these?"
Sam unfolded the sheet. "Sidney Funnelwebs, male. Yeah, I have those. You know they have antivenom for this."
"Only in the region around Sidney where this spider is a common and unwanted houseguest. It will have to be flown in." By that time dear Diaz will be dead, Murdoc thought to himself. "Unless you know of any supplies of antivenom in this town."
"Like you said: the Funnelweb isn't common here." Sam folded up the sheet of paper and gave it back. "I'll have to milk the spiders. Come back in the afternoon and I'll have your order ready for you."
"And the price?"
"A five year membership of the specialty club."
Murdoc mustered up a smile. It would be a lot easier doing business with criminals if they didn't talk in code all the time. "Agreed. I'll see you later." Murdoc gave a nod and left the shop.
-oOo-
On one side of his loft Murdoc had a workbench. Here he worked on his murder weapon. He figured it would be impossible to place another bomb. Not only did he not know where the target was, security around him would be a lot tighter. So he needed something long distance and something that would not kill instantly. Hence the choice for spider venom. Security would not realize the witness had been poisoned until it was too late to round up the possible suspects hanging out in front of the courthouse. Plenty of time for him to get away.
Murdoc converted an old photo-camera to shoot tiny ampules of venom when triggered. He loaded the camera with an empty ampule and tested its aiming accuracy.
"Perfect." He was pleased.
Murdoc set to preparing the venomous ampules. When finished he loaded the weapon with two ampules and carefully stored it in his camera bag. He checked whether he had packed everything else he might need: press card, ID. He was ready.
Murdoc turned on some music, poured himself a glass of wine and sat down in his easy chair. That would take care of the target. He wondered if the woman would make another attempt at the target. If she was smart she would stay away once she found out she wasn't the only one. But if she took any kind of pride in her work, she would not sit back and leave this one to the competition. Murdoc was looking forward to meeting her again.
He had tried to find out more about her through his HIT contact. HIT didn't know much about her, not even a name. She was on the private pay role of one of the bigger names in the drug industry; active between five and eight years; and, though she probably had access to all kinds of designer drugs, her preferred mode of operation was spider venom. Murdoc grinned thinking back: his innocent choice for Sidney Funnelweb venom would leave his little nuisance grinding her teeth. HIT assured him that the client had assured them that the contract had now been exclusively awarded to him. The woman had been hired by a friend trying to be helpful, but had now been pulled from the job.
Which was a pity, really. Murdoc would have enjoyed running in to her again, and seeing the look on her face once she realized he had borrowed her MO. Now, all he was left with was imagining that look and thinking about what he would do if someone stole his MO. The thief would not live long enough to enjoy his bounty.
-oOo-
There was a large crowd of reporters gathered outside the Courthouse that morning. Murdoc filed in line. He looked up at the gray sky and noted there might be rain. He also noted the snipers on the roofs of the surrounding buildings. A quick get away would be suspicious. He didn't need a quick get away. He looked around at the crowd of journalists and photographers. He wondered if the woman would be among them. He would be if someone tried to pull him from a job. Murdoc got his camera from his bag.
The police had secured off the steps up to the Courthouse and part of the street. Reporters were chatting amongst themselves. An unmarked van with tainted windows pulled up. Two men in suits wearing sun glasses jumped out. For a moment Murdoc wondered whether he was at the right side of the building. That the prosecution was putting up this little show and meanwhile smuggle the witness in through the back door. Then he saw Diaz get out of the van. He recognized him from his picture. Three more body guards got out after him and the small group, with Diaz in the middle, started moving toward the building.
The crowd of reports rushed forward, as far as the police cordon would allow them, trying to get pictures and sound-bites. Diaz was completely sealed in by body guards as they pushed through the crowd. Murdoc raised his camera. It was hard to get a good shot. He triggered. An ampule shot from his camera and hit its target. The ampule stuck in his neck obscured for the most part by the witness' own hair. Murdoc smirked. Diaz brought up a hand to scratch his neck. Murdoc quickly fired another ampule. It hit Diaz in the hand. In a reflex Diaz swatted the sting in his other hand. Murdoc hoped he had broken the little ampule and cut his hand. That would make the absorption of the venom in his blood stream a lot easier. Diaz wiped his hands on his trousers underneath his jacket.
The huddle of witness and body guards went inside. Several reporters tried to follow, but were stopped by the police. Murdoc put his camera back in his bag. There was nothing left for him to do, but wait. And what better place to wait, than somewhere else.
-oOo-
To be continued