This chapter includes Prompt 11- A meeting is called to discuss something important and Prompt 12 - A knock on the door at an odd time

John sat in the hotel dining room, red-eyed and tired. He had visited every hotel his search revealed, and nothing. They had to be in the area somewhere, the information from Reagan was guaranteed. He gave the menu a cursory glance and when the waitress came he ordered a light breakfast.

When she returned, he asked her about lodging in the area aside from the hotels listed on the internet. Again nothing. He absently ate his food, forcing his mind to focus on what Chase would do - where he would go. He got his phone out and ran another search in the area for public buildings.

Stopping mid chew as he scrolled, he put down his fork, wiped his mouth and picked up the phone. A site popped up that invited travellers to discover the charm and elegance of the city's old establishments. He clicked on it and ran through several pages of factories, retail houses, restaurants and finally accommodations.

There were two listed, and he bookmarked both pages, then feeling satisfied and very clever, he finished his breakfast in leisurely comfort. They had been left off the regular hotel pages because they were now permanent residence only, but still worth a visit for the architecture and history.

Both sites were close by and John felt a stirring of knowing the prey was in his sights - it wouldn't be long now.

******

The conference room at Rytex Industries was the scene of conflict, anger, frustration and fear. Selected board members, military representatives, and the CIA faced one another across the polished surface of the large table. Electronics were forbidden in the room, only paper notes, and anything left behind would be collected and destroyed.

Ashtrays overflowed, and the smoke was siphoned away, to the relief of the non-smokers. A white noise machine masked the conversations taking place - fortunately.

"This is the last day! Don't you get it? If we don't submit the drug today there will not be enough time for production or for our people to adapt it to the use we intended!" The florid-faced general banged a fist on the table, scattering some of the ashes.

"We have to know for sure Miss Regan hasn't contacted the FDA or some other agency with her concerns. If we go ahead and it comes out later, we'll all be roasted.

Sanford Whitthall turned to Doctor Reagan. "Emile, that was your responsibility. Why hasn't something happened?"

"As I explained before, Dane Chase proved to be a surprisingly unfortunate choice. I had to dispatch another man, and he is very close to completing his mission. Chase is not an easy man to deal with when it comes to avoiding discovery. It's why I've used him so successfully in the past."

"What the hell is close?" Another voice challenged. "Christmas is close for Christ's sake."

"My last contact, he assured me it would be done today."

"But when today," several voices chorused noisily.

Reagan shook his head. "That I cannot say."

"Terrific! She's your niece, Reagan, why the hell couldn't you have done all this yourself earlier?"

The look was venomous, and Emile aimed his pencil at the speaker. "Because she is my niece. And having to order this in the first place was enough."

"This is not sitting well with me, gentlemen." Sanford spoke up. "I have a lot of money wrapped up in this project that is not recoverable if we fail."

"Are you saying you're pulling out?" Another military representative snapped.

"I don't go into business deals to throw my money away, Major."

"A move like that could bring serious repercussions."

"Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?"

The CEO of Rytex stood and waved his hands. "Gentlemen, please. This is not helping at all. I'm asking for order here, and some reasoned thinking as to how we should proceed."

"I say we go ahead. We have all the test results that point to its effectiveness. Take the risk that she never contacted anyone. This project is too big to let go."

"Your rush to weaponize our product could bring the whole house down. We aren't as bulletproof as your esteemed armed forces. We have shareholders - aside from Sanford's large contribution - who would sue us into oblivion."

"We wait for Emile's man to call." A hand slapped the table, silencing the bickering.

******

Paula announced she was coming, and she opened the bathroom door, striking an exaggerated pose. Almost immediately she felt ridiculous as she felt the eyes of her hired killer companion watching her.

"Are they comfortable?" He asked.

She dropped the pose and patted the stretch pants against her thighs, then pulled down the hem of the top he'd chosen.

"They are, yes. More suitable for . . ." She waved her hand, letting the sentence trail off.

"Well, they look good on you."

She felt odd enjoying his approval, and she went back into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water, and leaned on the doorframe.

"So, this is the last day of the three days you say they had."

He nodded. "Does that make any sense to you?"

"Not for approval of the drug. It can be submitted any time now with the required tests all completed."

"So what's the problem, I mean, you say there are side effects that could be serious. Wouldn't that stop them?"

"Not necessarily. It's a case of the good outweighing the bad." She pushed off the door and walked to the bed, sitting and crossing her legs. "It's the fact that they aren't declaring all the bad effects."

Chase knuckled his nose and looked at her. "Then it has to do with the military. It's their timeline."

"Then we've won - so to speak."

He chuckled. "That other me is still coming, Paula. We haven't won yet."

"But if the time's up, there's no point."

"It's a scorched earth mentality. Loose ends, win or lose, are not permitted."

"So we just sit here? How will we know?"

"When he gets here."

******

He found them, and now it was just a matter of finishing the job. John took his gun from the wrapping and worked all the actions, attached the silencer and loaded the bullets. It had taken him most of the day to confirm their location, not what he had hoped for, but now as the evening settled in, he was ready.

The night clerk never knew what hit him when John put him in a choke hold and tied him up behind the counter. he double checked the registry to see what apartment they had been given and he took the elevator to their floor.

******

"Are you going to be comfortable on that," Paula asked, looking at the single pull-out sofa in the living room.

"Better than the roll-out in the last place." Chase pulled the sheet back, propped up the pillow and sat down.

"I'll go to bed then I guess." She dawdled on the way, aware he was watching her. "Are you finished in the bathroom?"

"Yes. You can go in there safely, Paula."

"I didn't mean--"

"Yes you did, but don't sweat it. I'll get the lights."

"Okay then . . . good night . . ."

"Get a good sleep, Paula."

Like that's gonna happen, she sighed to herself, and closed the bedroom door.

Chase slipped off his pants and shirt, killed the lights and lay down on the pull-out. He examined the night sky through a part of the window, letting his mind wander for a minute over his target in the other room. She had somehow managed to break into his inner self, a place he reserved for his personal survival, and it was unsettling. Distracting. And his business that could be fatal.

He made a disgusted sound and adjusted his head on the pillow, concentrating on going to sleep.

Something woke him, and he lay perfectly still listening to the dark. A knock at the door. He held his watch up and managed to read the time. It was the middle of the night. Slipping off the bed, he picked up his gun from the side table and padded silently to the door, pausing at another knock. There was no eyehole and he knelt on the floor, trying to see through the sliver of space under the door.

Another knock, and he saw a shadow move in front of the door. Chase stood and gripped the doorknob, and asked, who was there, then quickly dropped back down as three holes appeared in the wooden door at head height. Twisting the knob he rolled to one side and threw back the door. More shots fired into the room and he fired his own gun in return.

The cry was a mix of pain and surprise, and Chase sprang into the hall, aiming at the man clutching his knee. The silencer came up again but Chase's second shot was centre mass, and John groaned, dropping the gun and slumping back against the wall.

"I thought I recognized you in the alley the other day, John. The knocking bit was different alright. Might have worked if I wasn't expecting a visit."

A door opened down the hall and a tiny woman in a dressing gown and hairnet, called, asking if everything was alright.

"Everything's fine ma'am," Chase called back. "You can go back to bed, no problems."

Paula came to the doorway and gasped at the sight of the man lying on the hall floor bleeding profusely.

"Is the- is he--"

"Yeah, go back inside."

"But--"

"Go. Back. Inside." Chase stood and stared her into the room, then he picked up John's gun and tossed it through the door onto the bed, and picked John up and dragged him inside, closing the door.

"I'm done, why are you bothering?" John gasped.

"I know, but you might as well be comfortable when you go." Chase positioned him on the bed then turned on the light.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," John struggled to speak.

"Lucky for me, eh? Did Doc send you after both of us or just the woman?"

"Both, but I wanted you anyway." He groaned and tried to hold his hand on the stomach wound.

"Well, we can't always have what we want. Any last words, John?"

"Yeah . . . I never figured you . . . for boxers . . ." There was short gurgle and John's hand fell away.

Chase looked down at himself standing in his socks and underwear and snickered wryly. When he looked up again, Paula was standing the bedroom doorway, hands over her mouth.

"Can I sleep in your room, I'll clean this all up in the morning?"