Strike Matrix by Aiden L Bailey

Author:Aiden L Bailey [Bailey, Aiden L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-11T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

It was evening when Simon reached Dakshesh Matondkar’s apartment tower, lit up in neon yellows and pinks so it stood out like some kind of glitzy tourist attraction.

For many minutes Simon watched the apartment from the shadows across the road. Three muscular thugs who had roughed him up the previous night loitered outside the entrance. One with a red cap gave instructions to the others, punching his fist into the palm of his other hand as he talked. Simon felt confident the men weren’t ex-special forces or even former army grunts, just regular criminals. It was time to act.

With Keser’s SIG Sauer P228 in his waistband and within easy reach, Simon stepped from the shadows and walked with purpose along the opposite footpath. He wanted the thugs to see him. Sure enough, they spotted him within seconds.

They came for him.

He kept his pace steady, returned to the shadows pretending he was oblivious to their presence. When he sensed they were almost upon him he spun, smashed the capped leader across the head with the grip of SIG Sauer, sending him down fast.

The two standing men watched in shock as Simon incapacitated one of their own. Their hesitation, counted in seconds, was all Simon needed to jab the second man in the solar plexus. Ribs cracked as the thug grunted from the impact, then dropped to his knees.

The third thug shook his head, regained his composure and rushed Simon. Simon raised an elbow towards the man’s head. The man ran straight at him, knocking himself unconscious as his face rammed hard into Simon’s defensive move.

The second thug struggled on his knees gasping for breath. Simon used the grip of the SIG Sauer again and smashed it across the man’s forehead and he too was out for the count.

Three down, all rendered unconscious in less than ten seconds.

Simon scanned the streets. No one had noticed the altercation, or if they had they weren’t hanging around. Simon took the red cap and placed it on his own head, then stripped the man of his cream linen shirt which he slipped over his own top.

Before someone called the police, Simon walked fast across the road to the apartment entrance. He punched in the code he’d watched the thugs key in yesterday. Soon he was ascending in the elevator, all the way to the top floor where Matondkar’s penthouse waited.

The elevator door opened with a ping. Another thug approached. Not seeing through the disguise because he wasn’t looking at Simon, he called out, “Ganak? What are you—?”

Before the man had finished speaking, Simon grabbed one of the Persian horse statues and smashed it over the thug’s head, sending him down onto his hands and knees. Simon then kicked him in the head sending his fourth foe into the land of slumber.

With his pistol raised, Simon pointed it at Dakshesh Matondkar. The arms dealer only now aware of the situation tried to clamber out of the lounge where yesterday he had almost snipped off Simon’s fingers.

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