Shadow of a Killer by David Anderson

Author:David Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dark survival epic and noir psychological mystery, air disaster and cannibalism in andes mountains, deadly killer seeks revenge on canadian flyer, desperate vancouver aviator goes on the run, lone assassin tracks mentally scarred crash victim, traumatised survivor wrestles with guilt and shame, vengeful hitman pursues innocent small plane pilot
Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.

Chapter 34

At the rear there was a low stone wall with a raised grassy area behind it, broken up by four parking spaces. Two of them were filled; one by a silver Toyota Corolla, the other by a blue Ford van. Two green dumpsters stood to the right, one of them propped open. In the middle of the building, about head height, gray steam poured out of a wall vent, perhaps indicating a laundry room. The back door was to the right of it. It was wedged ajar.

I went through the open door and heard the hum of washing machines on my left. Straight ahead, another room opened up in which I could see stainless steel counters and racks of pots hanging from the ceiling. Obviously the kitchen. A pile of empty cardboard boxes lay on the floor and I picked one up. Holding the box high on my shoulder, I walked into the kitchen and rapidly assessed the room.

An old, fat cook was cutting vegetables over a deep sink. He turned his head to look at me and I moved the box around so that he couldn’t see my face. With a purposeful stride, I marched on through the room as if I knew exactly where I was going. The tactic probably wouldn’t have worked in a busy city hotel but I prayed it would get me into this sleepy little place.

It did. There was no protest from the cook as I exited the kitchen and carried on down the hallway to the front of the building. I found the elevator, called the car and went inside. There was no way that a building this small could have thirty-three guest suites, so I assumed Room 33 indicated a room on the third floor. I punched ‘3’ on the display and lowered the box.

What if my pursuer decided to come down at this very moment? A ding announced my arrival and my hand flew to the gun at my waist, my thumb pushing up the t-shirt. The elevator door opened, revealing an empty corridor. I stepped out.

My eyes checked the ceiling and walls. There were no video cameras in a place like this. I found Room 33, about halfway between the elevator and the back stairs. Again, there was a simple lock with a lever handle on the door, rather than an electronic key-card slot like city hotels.

I’d got this far with relative ease and wondered if I could get even further. It was now late afternoon and I was pretty sure the tiger be somewhere close to the cottage, watching for me, perhaps planning the best time and place for my assignation. On the other hand, he could be on the other side of the door.

I had a big decision to make. A drop of sweat trickled down my forehead, into my eye. I wiped it dry, rubbed my forehead a little to clear away the whiskey fog. My hand went to the pistol, extracted it.

I knocked on the door with my left hand.

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