“I will relay the message.”
“I can’t do that, Sir. I’ve been sent by management to deliver the message in person to Mr. Fontaine.” Nick put away the ID, and drew out the key card for the Presidential Suite.
“I may be able to bring Mr. Fontaine to the door. You will not come in.”
“That will be fine.” Nick waited two seconds for the bodyguard to turn from the door before letting himself into the room.
The bodyguard turned, startled by the sound of the door. Nick shot him twice through the head. The other bodyguard glanced from his paper at the strange sound of a silenced shot as he sat on the couch. Nick’s next two shot barrage into the man’s head ended all curiosity forever. Nick knew the Presidential Suite layout intimately. With only cursory glances at his surroundings for movement, Nick slipped noiselessly toward the bedroom. As he peeked inside, shots clipped the doorjamb over his head.
“Leave! I will kill you if you do not leave,” Omar’s shaky voice threatened.
“Nice shootin’ Omar. How dare you bring a gun into this nice hotel.” Nick’s mind raced for ways to proceed. He hadn’t considered Omar to be the kind to have bodyguards and a gun. Rat-shit! I am getting careless. Then Nick smiled, chuckling as he took out his last resort grenade. “That’s okay. Stay there. I’m here to kill you or talk to you. I’m not here to get shot at. Kill you, it is. Grenade sucker!”
Nick tossed the grenade into the room with a slightly high arc so it would make a thud sound on the carpet. He positioned himself at the door as a startled scream of terror preceded Omar running from the room into a perfectly timed clothesline thrown out by Nick to greet Omar’s rush. It caught Fontaine on the chin. Nick’s arm barely moved as Omar’s head stayed, but the rest of his body kept going. The 9mm automatic, released from the descending Omar’s hand, bounced on the carpet a moment before Fontaine hit with a huge gasp of escaping air. Nick dragged Omar into the bedroom, retrieving the still disabled grenade.
“I’m afraid you fell for a very old trick, Omar.” Nick restrained the groaning Omar’s wrists at his back and his ankles. He then plucked the slender tycoon off the floor and jammed him down on a chair. Without his handy duct tape, Nick had to make do with a lot of extra plastic ties to fasten Omar to the chair. “There we go. Now, we can talk.”
“Who…who are you,” Omar croaked.
“I’m Nick… Nick McCarty. You know - the guy you sent a bunch of your goons out to kidnap his daughter.”
Fontaine’s eyes widened in horror. Nick grinned.
“Ahhh… that’s so sweet. You really do know me. All of the men you sent to the coast are dead. Do you have anyone else on my trail?”
“No! It’s over!” Omar began to understand by Nick’s demeanor negotiating would not be an option.
“I want to know why you did such a stupid thing. What possible outcome did you hope for? I have a theory but I want to hear it from you.”
“I…I meant to force you to kill Salvatore and be caught doing it… or my men would… ah… listen, McCarty! I will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! I-”
Nick made a buzzer noise. “I’m already rich beyond my wildest dreams. The problem with this thing you did with trying to have Jean kidnapped… well… she’s one of my most cherished treasures. If I had more time I’d make you regret you were ever born. Because you answered my question I’ll give you a break. I figured you wanted Salvatore dead. Tell me why in detail. I’m recording it. See… I have this appointment with your enabler, Senator Diane Cameron later. She’s going to be claiming moral superiority and crap like that. I want you to tell all about your relationship with her and why she’s just a traitorous bitch. Do it convincingly and I won’t have to arc your balls with this.”
Nick fired off his stun-gun to a very motivated Omar. Fontaine then went through his ties with Cameron in detail, including getting Nick into the accounts on a laptop computer Omar had in the bedroom. “Gee, this is swell, Omar. So Di simply has her big money account payoff under your name and control so no financial tie can be made between the two of you. Neato. I’m going to take Di’s money. I see you have your accounts locked so they can only be accessed, even by you, with another party’s passcode. Smart. I don’t have time to get it and I don’t need it anyway. The twenty mil in Di’s funds make me very happy with you, Omar. See ya’.”
Nick shot him twice in the head. He looked at his Beretta. “Don’t worry baby, I’m not going to get rid of you, even though according to the gun confiscation nuts you single-handedly killed these guys. They’re too stupid to understand it was just your owner, crazy Nicky, who did it. You’re innocent and I’m not giving you up.”