Read Online The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) by Jonas Saul - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonas Saul
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He had ruined his life. Taking those pictures of his trysts in Aarhus were for him and him alone. When aroused, he could use those pics, remember the time he had with his conquests. But those pictures would be his downfall now.
Inside the small train station, Anton took a seat in a small room to the side where people ate pastries and drank coffee. He remained there long enough to drink the rest of his coffee and only stopped when the last few sips were cold. He watched people come and go. Three trains stopped and left in that time. He saw young girls, older women, people traveling alone, couples, and several groups of teens laughing and joking with each other, each with a cell phone in hand. Not a care in the world other than their homework load.
What he didn’t see was someone as alone as he was. Someone with a similar level of torment, anguish. Denmark was often quoted as being the happiest country on Earth, but Anton wasn’t feeling much of it at the moment.
In fact, depression settled over him. And this depression was the kind only murder could solve.
He got up from the bench after an hour and headed home, confident now that within two to three days he would kill a lonely girl to save his daughter.
For Clara, he would kill a dozen if tasked to do so.
She was all he had left in the world and he wouldn’t let her go quietly.
“Save Clara,” he whispered. “Save Clara.”
Chapter 10
Ansgar Holm, AKA The Clock, kept what he knew about the man named Alex to himself. The client didn’t need to know about Alex, the student who followed him up the street after the dojo blew up. As far as The Clock was concerned, no one needed to know about Alex. It was an error. A minor mistake that led to nothing. Alex would die and the error would be resolved.
The media reported a witness—one of Aaron’s students—who got out minutes before the bomb exploded. This witness wanted to remain anonymous. That could be for a plethora of reasons. One in particular was to remain anonymous to The Clock. Alex didn’t want Ansgar learning his name. If Alex truly believed Ansgar razed the dojo, he was staying mum about it with the authorities or the police were keeping it from the media.
Ansgar turned on his blinker and turned into the Travel Inn Airport Hotel by the Toronto Airport. Clara Olafson had checked in yesterday after flying in from Denmark. The client had tasked Ansgar to keep her company in her room. Keep her quiet, feed her. Don’t let her leave. Then escort her out of the room five days later and discard the body.
After parking, Ansgar reread the text from the client. Subject must be responsive and available for a phone call for the entire five days.
Not a problem.
He collected his backpack and started for the hotel’s front desk.
The client was thoughtful. It was one of the reasons Ansgar enjoyed working with this particular client. He had arranged two rooms side by side on the tenth floor. At the end of the hall, room 1032 was Clara’s. Across the hall, room 1034 was his. They were reserved for the week. Prepaid and arranged in Ansgar’s alias.
As far as the client understood, Clara was in her room at that moment, waiting for a man to show up and drive her to meet a prospective boyfriend. Although that would not be happening. Clara wasn’t going anywhere and there was no boyfriend, just a fake account on a dating website.
Several people milled around the lobby of the hotel, but there was no one in line to check in. A family of four sat by their suitcases, staring at a TV suspended from the wall as a newscaster relayed the day’s notable events. The sound trickled out of the TV, barely noticeable.
Ansgar walked up to the check-in counter and placed his Canadian driver’s license and credit card in the name of Peter Ford on the desk.
“Checkin’ in,” he said. When he was Peter, an entirely different image emerged from his
Inside the small train station, Anton took a seat in a small room to the side where people ate pastries and drank coffee. He remained there long enough to drink the rest of his coffee and only stopped when the last few sips were cold. He watched people come and go. Three trains stopped and left in that time. He saw young girls, older women, people traveling alone, couples, and several groups of teens laughing and joking with each other, each with a cell phone in hand. Not a care in the world other than their homework load.
What he didn’t see was someone as alone as he was. Someone with a similar level of torment, anguish. Denmark was often quoted as being the happiest country on Earth, but Anton wasn’t feeling much of it at the moment.
In fact, depression settled over him. And this depression was the kind only murder could solve.
He got up from the bench after an hour and headed home, confident now that within two to three days he would kill a lonely girl to save his daughter.
For Clara, he would kill a dozen if tasked to do so.
She was all he had left in the world and he wouldn’t let her go quietly.
“Save Clara,” he whispered. “Save Clara.”
Chapter 10
Ansgar Holm, AKA The Clock, kept what he knew about the man named Alex to himself. The client didn’t need to know about Alex, the student who followed him up the street after the dojo blew up. As far as The Clock was concerned, no one needed to know about Alex. It was an error. A minor mistake that led to nothing. Alex would die and the error would be resolved.
The media reported a witness—one of Aaron’s students—who got out minutes before the bomb exploded. This witness wanted to remain anonymous. That could be for a plethora of reasons. One in particular was to remain anonymous to The Clock. Alex didn’t want Ansgar learning his name. If Alex truly believed Ansgar razed the dojo, he was staying mum about it with the authorities or the police were keeping it from the media.
Ansgar turned on his blinker and turned into the Travel Inn Airport Hotel by the Toronto Airport. Clara Olafson had checked in yesterday after flying in from Denmark. The client had tasked Ansgar to keep her company in her room. Keep her quiet, feed her. Don’t let her leave. Then escort her out of the room five days later and discard the body.
After parking, Ansgar reread the text from the client. Subject must be responsive and available for a phone call for the entire five days.
Not a problem.
He collected his backpack and started for the hotel’s front desk.
The client was thoughtful. It was one of the reasons Ansgar enjoyed working with this particular client. He had arranged two rooms side by side on the tenth floor. At the end of the hall, room 1032 was Clara’s. Across the hall, room 1034 was his. They were reserved for the week. Prepaid and arranged in Ansgar’s alias.
As far as the client understood, Clara was in her room at that moment, waiting for a man to show up and drive her to meet a prospective boyfriend. Although that would not be happening. Clara wasn’t going anywhere and there was no boyfriend, just a fake account on a dating website.
Several people milled around the lobby of the hotel, but there was no one in line to check in. A family of four sat by their suitcases, staring at a TV suspended from the wall as a newscaster relayed the day’s notable events. The sound trickled out of the TV, barely noticeable.
Ansgar walked up to the check-in counter and placed his Canadian driver’s license and credit card in the name of Peter Ford on the desk.
“Checkin’ in,” he said. When he was Peter, an entirely different image emerged from his
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