| "Not A Problem" | ||
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Nice Pair Stripclub June 3, 2008, 0158 hours Lima Time Odds made his way towards his office as quickly as he could, not wishing to keep his boss waiting any longer than necessary. Despite being one of the more powerful members of the Crowe Empire, Odds was well aware of just how precarious his position could become if Crowe wished it. The man controlled much of London, and those who pissed him off tended to die quite soon after, something Odds was keen to avoid. He nodded to the two bodyguards standing outside his office. They recognised his face and allowed him to enter the room, watching him nonetheless in case he made an offensive gesture or movement. Odds did nothing of the sort and moved into his office, turning to close the door after him. Turning back he saw Jason Crowe sitting behind Odds' desk, leaning back in the comfortable seat with a smile on his face. The smile quickly disappeared as he gestured for Odds to take a seat. Odds complied. "I understand there has been an incident here," Crowe said. "I would like you to explain." Odds cleared his throat. "It came to my attention a couple of weeks ago that someone I once knew, someone with a grudge against me, was attempting to discover my location and kill me. He met with an individual who I had had under surveillance, and the possibility of the individual giving information to this� bastard," Odds said, generating a smile from Crowe, "was great. I ordered the death of the individual, and an outside party carried it out. I also ordered the removal of one of this bastard's close friends but this failed because the bastard managed to kill my man before he could carry out his assignment. Quite how this happened I am yet to determine. He apparently had some military training at some point, possibly from terrorist cells." Crowe spoke before Odds could continue. "Are you telling me he is dangerous?" "No. He is not a problem. He attempted to kill me tonight but didn't get very far at all. He is currently being held here while I question him. Once I have finished he will be disposed of in a graphic way. That should make anyone else thinking of fucking with us think twice." "Indeed." Crowe fell silent, clearly thinking things through. Odds didn't like it when he did this; it was dangerous. "I hope for your sake Daniel that this does not cause any problems. I am disappointed that you neglected to inform me of this problem and chose to deal with it yourself. In future I think it would be beneficial for you to consult me before you chose to undertake such actions." "Yes sir," Odds replied. The meaning of Crowe's last sentence was loud and clear: go behind my back again and you'll end up at the bottom of the Thames. He thought about going into more detail about his `guest' but decided that it wasn't necessary. Soon the bastard would be dead, and Odds was already thinking about removing everyone who had come into close contact with his prisoner. One or two of them could prove difficult, seeing as the relationships were formed over the Internet, but he had the resources to accomplish his plans. The hardest target would be Hannah. Being surrounded by police who were well aware of the threat to her would mean getting someone close enough to do the job, and that was not going to be a simple proposition. Well, he had a little time to work out the details. Crowe stood, his large frame dwarfing Odds. The big man made his way around the desk and out of the door where his two bodyguards took up their flanking positions. As Crowe left Odds walked round the desk and sat in his chair. He let out a sigh. His position in Crowe's business was not guaranteed, though it was fairly secure. He had been let off this time, but he would have to be more careful next time. He had let his enjoyment of capturing the stupid shit cloud his judgment. He should have informed Crowe, and if something similar ever happened again then he would surely do so. He turned his thoughts to his `guest'. The stupid fuck. Expected to just waltz in and kill me. Idiot. Then again the fact that his guest was still alive was a cause for concern. Despite the impression he may have given he was still more than a little worried that he had been so skilfully deceived. He had fully believed the reports about the fire at the Russian nightclub, and had even sent someone over there to find out about it, and the reports that man had given him had said that his former friend was dead. And he had believed it. Why wouldn't he? Should have known better, he told himself. That fucker never did know when to quit. Even though on some levels he was impressed by the way in which his prisoner had gone about his revenge he still knew that he wouldn't be beaten. All through his life he had had to work around those who were less intelligent than him, less popular, less loved. It had been a burden that he had carried well, or so he thought. So many people had lived off of his brilliance, not realising that he let them only because he would then control them. He often remarked how good a manipulator he was; he could have been a politician, even Prime Minister, so skilfully could he wax lyrical something which he had no belief in whatsoever, and convince people of his good intentions whilst sharpening the knife behind his back. All of those in his former circle of friends had fallen foul of his deceptive proficiency, and some of them had paid for that with their lives. Apart from the man who now lay bleeding in another room of his stripclub none of the others had managed to see him for what he was. He had beaten the lot of them and they didn't even know it. Well, David had figured it out, but he had been far too late. It sure had felt good sticking the blade into his back, seeing the look of surprise on his face as he realised just how badly he had been fooled. That was an image Odds would take to his grave. He'd had his fun with the girl, and when David had found out about it he had made some noise, but soon after he was in a position where he could never make a sound again. There was something to be said about being ruthless, he thought. Not that anyone had been foolish enough to attempt anything against him. Then again, his guest did have more reason than most. How the man had deluded himself. Honestly, thinking that such things as friendship and loyalty actually existed. How naive was he? To have trusted me to not hurt him. Odds smiled at that. How much he had hurt his guest. Well, it was an incredible amount. According to his sources his guest had lost it, raging about like a demented idiot, talking about revenge and other such shit. What had he expected? What had he honestly thought he was going to do? Having never been the sharpest tool in the box, and being far too emotional, his guest had thought that he would kill his newfound enemy, not realising just how impossible that was. He was just too good. A smile crept onto his face as he leant back in his chair. No one is good enough to beat power. No one can beat me. Return |
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