I stepped into the Hotel Tverskoy. The florid suite with its golden chandelier was having a slow day. The only one in the lobby was an old lady who wore too much makeup at the front desk.
“Can I help you?” she gave me the evil eye as she spoke.
I gave my best fake smile, which is pretty good, and said “oh, hey, yeah! I think my friend just checked in this morning. Skinny guy wears suits, balding. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”
My “friend” was Judah Pharos. Judah was the vice president of the C.R.E.W. (Commando Recruit Elite Warriors). Pharos was very antipodal against the Spetsnaz and our mole in the C.R.E.W. discovered that he was helping rig the C.R.E.W.s presidential election for Evan Covmann. The contender, Daniel, was former Spetsnaz and 23 years ago was in the same squad as me. Pharos was a prick, and he deserved to die.
“Floor four, room 089. Will Mr. Pharos be expecting you?”
“No, I’m an old friend, and I’m going to surprise him.” I said and gave her a big smile and walked to the elevator.
As the doors opened I checked to make sure my MP 445 was loaded and pulled the hood on my north-face over my head. I knocked on door 089.
“If that’s the butler leave the lemon meringue on the dresser. I’ll eat it after my meeting.”
He opened the door and was looking down the barrel of my silencer. Then he wasn’t.
