Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Chapter Seventy-two

Hamilton, Bermuda
9:03 AM

We leaped from the limo and ran up the stairs two at a time.  We burst through the door and up to a high-paneled reception desk.  A stately woman with glasses hanging from her neck by a gold chain welcomed us without batting an eye at our unseemly haste.  “Good morning, sirs.  May I be of assistance?”
Angus flashed an ID at her. “Kindly announce Mr. Jake MacGregor to Mr. Walters.”
Her reticence showed. So Angus moved his ID an inch closer to her nose.  She slowly lifted her glasses to her eyes, read the ID, then nodded.
She picked up the telephone, pushed a series of buttons and paused.  “Someone to see you, sir.”
Walters' voice growled back with such force that we could hear it from her handset.  “Who the hell is it?”
“A Jake MacGregor for you, sir.”
Long seconds passed as she listened to the silent handset. 
“Let him in.” Walters' growl came through, though much quieter. 
She nodded,  as she started to reply, “Yes, sir…” But her voice spoke to no one; we could hear the dial tone.  She replaced the handset, lowered her glasses, then stood and escorted us to double mahogany doors.  She opened the one of them and held it for us.  “Sir.”
“Thank ye, Ma'm.” Angus said in a quiet way as we entered.
Walters sat at an enormous conference table.  In front of him lay a leather brief case.  I walked the length of the table never letting Walters' stare break my own.
“Jake …” he looked past me to Angus.
“Angus MacFadden, late of her Majesty’s Special Air Service.”
We sat down.  I couldn't take my eyes off his.  You son of a bitch!  You ruined my life, killed, had killed, stole, kidnapped and embezzled … for what, more money?
Angus coughed and brought me back to the moment.  I glanced at Walter’s briefcase.  I was sure it held everything dear to him.
I looked at Walters, then back to his briefcase. “I’ll be taking this when I go.”
Walters glared at me, then Angus, and back to me.  He started to say something but Angus interrupted.
“He will.” Angus confirmed.  His tone said it all.
Something inside Walters gave way as he broke his gaze, looked down and exhaled deeply.
“Ye’ll be needing this.”  Angus spoke again.  I turned in my seat toward him.  What the hell…?
Angus removed a pistol from within his coat.  Then he removed the suppressor from another pocket and screwed it onto the pistol.  He dropped the mag, thumbed out a single bullet and placed the pistol and bullet in front of Walters.
If anyone else did this but Angus I’d …
Walters starred at us with the realization of what Angus intended written on his face.  He shook his head, but Angus' stare told him what the other choice was.
Angus' stare won -- Walters slowly nodded agreement.
Angus turned to me.  I shrugged, stood up and took the briefcase.  We walked out of the room leaving Walters to his fate.
We passed through the mahogany doors of the conference room, past the receptionist and toward the lobby door.  The front of the building was mirrored glass.  Three paces from the door I saw Walters' reflection, just as Angus did.
Walters aimed the pistol at my back and fired.  The receptionist screamed. A huge force hit me and knocked me into the glass.
Damn, I doubt my health insurance covers this.

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