11.5

The mood was sombre and expectant when Marlon finally burst into the Sea Lounge.

“I had to make some calls,” he said.

Julia and Buck didn’t respond – they’d been waiting for three and a half hours.

“Come closer,” Marlon said, pulling up a chair.

“I’ve chosen room 666,” he said coldly. “There are many rooms overlooking our young Australian. But… as it was available I couldn’t resist the irony. Little touches like this help to emphasize the seedy nature of our work.”

Marlon lifted his top lip into a sneer and directed it, quite pointedly, at Buck.

“We are not paid to have a clean conscience.”

Julia couldn’t help wondering why Marlon consistently chose to be so unpleasant. As if their job wasn’t hard enough! Why compound everything with this awful, antiquated attitude – the unremitting cynicism, the nasty edge?

Why can’t he just discuss things like a normal human being?

What in the hell is wrong with him?

11.6

Marlon glanced across at Julia disdainfully, well aware of her silent revulsion, but unconcerned. He’d deal with her later.

Now the issue was Buck –

“Set up in room 666… is a veritable sniper’s nest.”

He allowed the words to rest, sink in.

“In it you will find a beautifully balanced Ruger 303 – fully loaded with the sights set to perfection. This is a weapon you won’t need to test. All you do is aim and fire.”

He remained still, deliberate – full of the threat of worse to come.

“When I tell you to do it – you will walk into that room, take aim at our target, and shoot to kill. Do you read me?”

“Is that right?” Buck asked, nonchalantly.