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Blood Money (chapters twenty nine and thirty.) (standard:Suspense, 5298 words) [15/18] show all parts | |||
Author: Hulsey | Added: Sep 28 2011 | Views/Reads: 2646/1696 | Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
Continued. | |||
29 Malik sat patiently, monitoring the apartment across the street. His contact, a fellow SSP sympathiser, after recognising Mukhtar and Rasheed, had called his one-time comrades in Pakistan. The contact had unwisely questioned Malik as to why he had not arrived in New York earlier. A powerful slap across his face ended the conversation. Malik had been assured that Mukhtar and Rasheed were not at this time occupying the premises, and so he waited, sipping oodles of hot, sweet tea to fend off the sleep. It was now mid-afternoon and the assassin had kept up his vigilance since the early hours of the morning. His contact had volunteered to relieve him, but his offer was dismissed, such was Malik's distrust of his incompetent colleagues. Two patrol cars and an unmarked van pulled up outside the apartment opposite, and Malik cupped his hands over his eyes, the low sun making his visibility difficult. He watched as a uniformed police officer approached the apartment, accompanied by two men wearing suits. A squad of armed policemen vacated the van and squatted, their weapons aimed towards the apartment. The man bringing up the rear, Malik recognised. “De Vries!” “You know him?” asked the contact. “He works for Interpol... How did he find the address so quickly?” Malik heard the cocking of the bolt from behind and turned to see the contact, armed with a sniper's rifle. “What do you think you're doing?” “We can take them.” Malik glared at his comrade. “Put the fucking rifle down, you imbecile.... De Vries will lead me to the traitors.” Across the street, a wiry, middle-aged, white-bearded man answered the door and sneered at the sight of the uniform. It was the detective who spoke. “Do you have a Mukhtar Ahmed and a Rasheed Ali staying at these premises?” “What is this?” quizzed the bemused man. The detective gave the signal and the armed policemen advanced, barging their way into the premises. De Vries pulled the house owner to one side. “Where are they, Mr...?” “Rasheed. Yes, Ali is my nephew. What is happening here?” De Vries detected that this man was sincere, and therefore posed no threat to him. “Your nephew and his friend are in serious trouble, Mr Rasheed.” A young Asian man was struggling with several of the armed policemen, screaming profanities at them. “Let him go,” ordered De Vries. “He isn't one of them.” “Serious trouble, you said?” asked Mr Rasheed. “Armed robbery, and most probably murder... When was the last time you saw them?” The man looked visibly shocked. “Yesterday... Yesterday morning... Ali told me that he was here to visit me... What proof do you have that...” “Are you expecting them back?” “Of course.” “I assume they have a car?” Click here to read the rest of this story (678 more lines)
This is part 15 of a total of 18 parts. | ||
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