26. Regan #2
“Okay, second floor is clear. We’re on schedule… just. Let’s go up.”
The third floor is where we expect to find Tony, since this is the floor with his master bedroom.
The floor plan shows the stairs rising up directly into this bedroom.
We each take an alternate side and creep slowly upwards, once step at a time.
We can hear sounds below as Abe and Maria engage with someone, but we’re straining our ears for anything we can hear above us.
Still nothing. I pull a flashbang out of my pouch and look to Grant.
He counts down with his fingers. Three, two, one…
I throw the flashbang up the remaining stairs, and it rolls away on the bedroom floor, then Bang! It detonates with a resounding boom, and Grant and I hurl ourselves up, swinging around to cover all angles as we enter the room, back-to-back.
Dammit. No one here. Where is he, the evil little bastard?
I run to the dressing room, fling open the door and drop to my knee, gun muzzle raised.
Again, nothing. Shit, this is not doing my stress levels any good.
I quickly fling open the closet doors, making sure no one is hiding behind one of the dozens of racks of expensive suits and shirts. Not there.
Grant comes in from the opposite doorway, where he’s been searching the en suite bathroom.
“Have you found him?”
“No. You?”
“No.”
I glance into the en suite bathroom.
“Christ, it’s huge!”
“Yeah.” The massive, marble roll top bath catches my eye.
“Are those taps solid gold?”
“Focus, Regan. Let’s try the terrace, just in case.”
We stride towards the back of the building, again hearing bangs, thumps and the sound of a struggle from below. We step momentarily onto the terrace, but it’s plain there’s no one here either, so we head back inside.
“Next floor, boss?”
“Yeah. Let’s go. We’re too slow. We’ve already had ten minutes.”
We take the stairs two-at-a-time, this time not even pausing at the top, just bursting through, guns at the ready.
A reception committee awaits us. Three armed men, dressed in fancy dark suits, like they’re going to some kind of business meeting in Milan or something.
They draw, but they should’ve drawn earlier, because Grant and I already have our weapons in our hands.
A quick round or two in each man and they’re down.
Despite the suppressors, the noise is deafening.
When the smoke clears, we check. One dead, one unconscious, one groaning and clutching his thigh.
I’d aimed deliberately low for him. No point killing anyone needlessly.
Not even a mobster. I cuff his wrists and ankles with zip ties and gag him before dumping him on the floor next to his unconscious pal.
Thirteen minutes gone. No sign of Maria and Abe.
Seven minutes left. Still no sirens. Good.
We head further into the building, stopping by a closed door.
A noise. Sounds like a woman, sobbing. Grant and I glance at each other, share the same thought, and as one, smash through the door, Grant rolling left, me rolling right.
Coming to my feet, covering the room, I advance towards the huge, emperor-sized bed.
Arranged on top of it, dressed in a dark blue silk gown, is an elderly lady.
Despite her red eyes from all the crying, she looks like she’d been quite the beauty in her day. This must be Francesca, Tony’s mother.
She stares at us, we stare back.
“Well,” she says between sobs. “If you’ve come to kill me then kill me. Just get it over with already. I’m ready to join Sal anyway. I miss him. I’ve nothing to live for here anymore.”
“You’re Francesca,” says Grant. A statement more than a question, but she nods anyway.
“Your son, Tony. Where is he? Tell us where he is and we will leave you alone, I promise.”
“Who are you?” she asks. “Are you Enrique’s mob? You don’t look Colombian. You don’t sound like it either. I’m confused.”
“We’re not your goddammed mob rivals, lady.
We’re Maria’s friends, and we’re here for her father, Sandro.
We just want Sandro. Give us Sandro and we’re outa’ here and you won’t have to see us again.
But fuck about with us old lady and you’ll regret it.
We only look like good guys. Deep down though, we’re assholes, just like the rest of them. Understand?”
She nods, frightened, but keeping her cool
“Tony… he should never have taken Sandro. Sandro was a good man. He was always Sals’ friend. They went to school together, you know…” her voice trails away, but Grant’s patience is running out. He strides towards the bed grips her tightly in his hands, shakes her roughly, making her gasp.
“Where is Tony?” he demands. “Tell me, quickly.”
“Aagh, let go, you’re hurting me.”
“Where is Tony?” Grant pulls back to slap her, but I grip his hand in time, shaking my head. He stares at me, his breathing hard, muscles tense. Then he sighs, nods, lets his arm relax to his side.
“Thanks, Regan. Tie her up,” he says, checking his watch. “Shit, sixteen minutes.” In the distance, faint at first, but growing louder, we hear sirens.
“One more floor to go, Boss.”
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Once again we’re on the stairs, gazing nervously above into the smoke filled darkness. Well, no need to be quiet anymore. I take the last flashbang and hurl it up the stairs. Two seconds later comes the boom, and up we go.
We head to the right first, to the front room.
Bursting in, we immediately see someone’s been living in here.
There’s a camping mattress on the floor in the middle of the room, and chains lying next to it.
A bottle of water lies on its side, the contents leaking onto the expensive parquet flooring.
A chair is knocked over, perhaps in haste. I turn to Grant.
“What happened here?”
“Looks like this might have been where they held Sandro, not downstairs in the basement after all.”
I nod my agreement.
“But,” says Grant. “The important thing is… where the fuck is he now? And where’s that bastard Tony?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s the time?” Grant looks at his watch as he speaks, more asking himself than me. “Jesus Christ, we’re outa time. Two minutes.”
Outside, the sirens are getting louder, and there’s definitely more of them. Several more.
“Where the fuck are Abe and Maria?”
“Want me to?—”
“No. If you startle them chances are they’ll shoot you. Better stick to the plan. But they’d better get up here quick if we’re going to get away before the cops show up.”
He looks around him, checks the floor plan once more.
“Alright, final room. The listening room.”
We pick our way across the floor and back to the landing.
This time we try the other door, the door heading towards the rear of the building.
The one where Tony apparently does his high-class listening to his high-class music on his high-class hi-fi.
Sat in his listening chair. I roll my eyes. What an asshole.
The door’s locked. What’s more, it’s not a normal door. It’s a bullet and blast resistant security door. Made of solid steel.
“Fuck.”
“What now, Boss?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Grant snaps. Then “Alright, alright, give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute, Boss. The police are nearly here.” From the little window in the hallway, flashing blue lights can now be seen. Still a little way off, but coming rapidly closer.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Grant paces up and down. Then he stops, turns to me. “Get Maria.”
“Huh?”
“No time for discussion. Get Maria. Get her up here now.”
Without a word, I sprint for the stairs.
Three at a time, I hurtle down them. Sirens are wailing now, blue lights in the distance light up the dark sky, as the sun stirs, still a little below the horizon.
Dawn is beginning to break, and our time is very nearly up.
I glance at my watch. One minute to five.
We’ve had nineteen of our twenty minutes.
I put on more speed, taking the stairs four at a time to the fourth floor, then the third, panting heavily now, down to the second, and I’m just about to start down to the first floor when I literally run straight into Abe and Maria, on their way up.
“Where,” I say between desperate breaths. “The. Fuck. Have. You. Been?” Panting and wheezing, I cling on to Abe, who lifts me up like I weigh nothing and sets me on my feet.
“Steady, Regan. We ran into some trouble in the basement. Had to take on a half a dozen mobsters. All quiet now though.” He says it with an air of calm, and I stare at him in amazement. Then shake my head. Time for explanations later. For now, Grant wants Maria.
“Grant asked me to come get Maria.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
We head upwards again. First time for Maria and Abe. Second occasion for me.
Panting and gasping, we arrive one-and-a-half minutes later at the top floor. I glance at my watch. Two minutes past five. We’re in extra time now. Outside the sirens wail, blue lights are now visible in two directions, coming ever closer. Shit, this is all going to hell.
And we still don’t have Sandro.
“Where’s Maria?” Grant’s voice, anxious.
“Right here, Boss.”
“Okay, Tony’s locked himself into his listening room. Damned door is blast proof, so we can’t get in.”
“Okay.” She looks up at him. “And what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to persuade him to open the door.”
“What?” her eyes go wide.
“You heard me. Promise him anything. Just do it.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno… anything. Marriage. Sex. An heir. Whatever you goddam please. Just get him to open the door. Because otherwise we’re fucked.”
The wailing from multiple sirens sounds about two blocks away now. Blue flashing lights are mingled with red. I think the fire service might have been called too.
Maria steps tentatively up to the door of the listening room. Raises her left hand, raps lightly on the door.
“Tony? Are you there? Tony? It’s me… Maria.”