Chapter 3

Misha

After knowing who has them it was matter of few hours to figure out where he is. Jack was kept at the abondend building registerd unter the name of Stark Industries. I put on my binoculars and pecked through the bushes; I needed to scope out the area before breaking in. Then I heard rustling and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, but I remained crouching and did not move to alert them. Who was expecting me to arrive? This never occurred.

I slipped under their hands, kicked one in the nuts while hitting the other in the back, they both whimpered, and I pressed one's neck under my boot while holding my knife to the other.

I looked at the short one, who was carefully inspecting my knife, while pulling a gun from my straps around my waist under my hoodie and pointing it at the man on the ground, at the black man.

"Who are you and what are you looking for?"

"Our boss would like to meet you,"

I narrowed my eyes.

"And who exactly is that?"

"Killian Alvarez," a man in his early thirties with average looks and an Italian accent sands in front of me.

He was dressed calmly in jeans and a blazer, buffed and ready to bounce.

"Ah," I said as it down on me.

"What does your boss expect of me?" I pressed the knife into the man's neck. I must give them credit. They stood perfectly still, but death has a way of making one sweat.

"If you don't mind, could we have a civilised conversation?" He spoke in a businesslike tone.

"I'm all for civilised manners; tell your men to take six steps back as I release them." 

"I have no aversion to blood, but we don't want that in broad daylight and in the middle of an alleyway, do we?" I cracked a smile.

He came to a halt for a moment before nodding to the men. I take a step back and replace my knife, still holding the gun.

"Speak,"

"My boss has an offer for you."

"What does this offer entitle?"

"You have to come with us and hear for yourself," He says.

"I don't like this offer,"

"You haven't yet heard it,"

"I  won't like it," I said. When I try to move, one of the bald man tries to bounce; I shoot him in the knee, and he collapses howling.

"Don't get in my way," I say as I turn away and pick up the bag I'd hidden in the bush.

"We understand you're looking for Jack Morris,"

I come to a halt and turn to meet his gaze with a blank expression.

"Who is Jack Morris?" I lower my gaze to the man and the blood on the ground.

"Take your friend to the hospital; if the bullet is removed in an hour or two, his leg may still be attached to him." I walk away from them and then turn around.

"Tell him that he must come to me if he wants to speak to me." I walked away after saluting them. The gunshot must have been heard by everyone in the house. They will relocate Jack, but staying here is not advisable. So I didn't turn around and continued walking, soon blending into the Chicago crowd.

I take out my phone. It's a good thing I had the foresight to place another tracker on one of the warehouse workers. As I watched the red dot move around the warehouse, I turned to a different alleyway to the south. Jack was smack dab in the middle of the blue dot. I wish I could... My head shook. I can't just walk in and let those Italian thugs figure me out. He figured out who I was. I hail a cab across the alley, looking around carefully.

"Where are you going?" inquired the cap driver.

The "Blue Eye Motel"

What exactly does he want from me? He's only after me because of a shambles I left in his hotel. It's not like he can't handle it, given that there wasn't a single news item about a certain well-known English businessman in Chicago. He had to have checked on Tywin and learned about Jack. That kid! At the very least, he could have done me a favour by covering his tracks. If anyone discovered who Jack Morris was, I would never be able to save him from the Russians, Italians, Chinese, and FBI. Oh Fuck! I sighed and rolled my eyes.

What offer were his minions discussing? This is not the time to be curious; instead, get out of here as soon as possible.

When the cab came to a halt, I slipped out to cross the street. I walk into the motel.

I dash to my room; I need a strategy to get us out of here as soon as possible. I came to a halt; my room's door was ajar, with scratches on the lock. I sighed, drawing my gun, carefully opening the door, and scanning the room; all of my equipment, including my laptop, speakers, modems, and clothes, had vanished. My phone rang as I shook my head.

I pick it up.

"Are you ready to hear my offer?" asked the voice.

"No,"

"I'll give you a second to think about that."

"Give me a lifetime, and my response will remain the same,"

"You don't trust me."

"I don't trust my shadow; it's nothing personal."

"I can assist you in saving Jack."

"I don't know any Jack," I said flatly, but my heart was racing.

"Love, you'll come to me." I would have been scared if his voice didn't have such a dangerous edge to it, but it was so damn sexy.

"I am not equipped to obey orders."

"Is that a challenge?"

The wise thing to do would be to listen to what he has to say, but dealing with people like him has never gone so well for me. It was a mistake to poke him at the Ritz.

"Take it as you please," I cut it off.

It took me three hours to get another laptop and activate a self-reset in the stolen one; in ten minutes, any data on it would be destroyed, and no master hacker would be able to access it. The final step was to figure out where the Russian minions had taken Jack next.

The warehouse on the outskirts of town was registered in Jamie Lannister's name. These Russians are obsessed with Game of Thrones. It's so predictable. The tracker had dropped me right in the middle of it, and he couldn't have arrived before me.  This place stinks like rat shit, and there's water dripping and echoing in the distance; it's as if a hurricane took everything away; even the oxygen appears stale. Then I trip over something and look down. A man in his mid-thirties was discovered dead from a gunshot wound, and another was discovered dead a few feet away due to possible air pipe pressure. I put my gun away and followed the trail of dead bodies that led to a rusted iron chair with ropes tied to it. I lower my gaze to the seat. It contained a note with a picture of Jack on it; it was untied, and someone was holding him. I take up the note.

I have Jack; meet me

House No. 6, 2nd Street, Mariene Avenue

Code- 7589

~Your Gentleman

I crumbled it.