Room 7C

​The operations was supposed to go off without a hitch, but the target was an elusive one. He had escaped capture all across the country and it seemed he would escape out of our jurisdiction and we would lose him in Europe. However, we decided to beat him to the punch and go through his lists of contacts and cut him off before he could reserve a spot on a plane that would leave the country.

​Of course, that was no easy matter. No doubt in doing so we tipped him off to our information and he went dark. It took two weeks to triangulate where he would be it was finally singled out to a hotel where one of their clients paid cash. It was fishy enough to have been him, especially since he was last spotted in the region. However, it was my job to make sure.

I was outfitted as one of the staff and was undergoing this briefing before they sent me up to his room.

“You must be on your guard, Louis,” the chief told me over the phone. His piers were with me due to the county being far from HQ. “Samuel Knoxville is one of those black-hearted killers. It was no wonder he was put on the job to assassinate the party leader’s dog.”

“The monster,” I muttered at the thought of someone killing another person’s dog. “What about weaponry? If he is going to be armed I am at risk.”

“You will be at an even greater risk if you are armed, Louis,” my pier told me. “This man can sniff out a spy like a bloodhound. Best make sure that if does learn you are a spy you get the hell out of there. Run for the stairs, we will come to meet you and cover you. Until then, you are going in there with only the croissants.”

“It’s almost as if you want me to get killer,” I murmured. “But fine. Hand me the apron.”

With that I was finished the debriefing and led to the elevator. It would go straight up to the seventh floor and once there I was to start at the end with F and work my way up to C. Going straight to his room would be too suspicious, he had to know I was coming for sure. F and E were simple enough to deal with. A plumbing issue that required some strength, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

Eventually I reached D, it was right across from his room. I felt the uncanny feeling of being watched, almost as if he was staring at me through the peephole. However, that wasn’t the most anxious part. I continued to ring the bell and call “Fresh baked goods” through the door, but there wasn’t a response. It worried me deeply because hotel staff would know if there was somebody staying or not in each room.

I was about to abort and make a run for it before the door opened and a half-dressed, elderly couple appeared. I gave them three croissants, some fresh bread and about thirty mini-muffins. Once they were sorted it was time to confront Samuel, if this was him. I walked up to the door knocked, calling through the door. I didn’t wait long.

Samuel opened the door and he stood before me with a defensive stance. If I was too strike now it would be foolish. He had one hand on the door, ready to use it to deflect my strike and then I would be at his mercy. One opening was all he needed.

“Anything you would like, sir?” I asked him cooly. I tried to act as bored as any staff member, but still give that false smile that they all had. He bought it, eyeing my selection of baguette.

“Do you have any of those hot muffins?” he asked me seriously.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” I replied.

“Give me the vanilla.”

He really was a psychopath.

I handed him the best of the vanilla and he selected his favourites. My mission was accomplished, all I needed was for him to close the door so I could get out of here. The strike team would storm the room, but not a defenseless pastry delivery service.

“While you are here…” Samuel began. Uh oh. “...I am having a problem with the TV. It doesn’t want to change channels.”

“I will take a look right away, sir,” I told him, leaning down to the bottom of the cart and grabbing a set of batteries for the remote. Ever so slyly I grabbed a hot custard pastry and slid it up my sleeve.

I walked over to the TV and grabbed the remote, testing it out. It appeared to be stuck on a Spanish game show about ducks. He was right, the channel wouldn’t change and I began to change the batteries. I watched Samuel from the corner of my eye at all times. He was still eyeing the baked goods, but he was fully aware of me as well.

I tried the remote again and it worked. With that problem sorted I began walking to the door and past Samuel.

“Where are the donuts?” he asked before letting me leave.

The donuts were being eaten by every cop in the building and Samuel realized that fully. I was now at his mercy and I began to panic. A hostage would give him some leverage, but I doubt the value of my life mattered over capturing or killing Samuel. As quick as I could I let the custard pastry fall into my hand and made a motion as if to stab him between the eyes.

Of course, Samuel caught my hand expertly, but it was as a planned. Too late did he realize there was no knife in my hand, only the pastry. I squeezed hard and hot custard shot from the pastry into his eyes. I could see the steam and could only imagine the pain he must have felt as he fell to his knees, screaming and rubbing away the custard.

I was promoted on the spot that day for single-handedly capturing one of the world’s greatest assassins. Now, I always carry I hot custard pastry by my side, cause you never know when you are going to need one.