Michael climbed into his bed after his third shift sitting watch. Redrick hadn't budged all day. Michael had even gone down the stairs a few times to peek at the desk. Redrick held strong. It was getting late into the night and Michael was beginning to get anxious.
Michael laid in his bed and closed his eyes. A buzz of an engine outside made him pop to attention. He rolled off his bed and slowly crept to the window. His lights were off, his blinds shut, but he still moved as if someone was watching. He used an index finger to lower one shade.
There was an old white pickup truck parked directly outside the hotel. The lights turned off, and the engine stopped. It was impossible to see the driver from the second floor. He watched for another five minutes, but there was no movement. He lifted his finger and backed into his room.
He grabbed a chair and propped it beneath the handle of his door as he had once seen Mrs. Garverdink do back in Victor’s office. He walked to the counter and picked up the lamp base he’d prepared as a weapon. He’d removed the shade and bulb, to leave just the base as a club. As Michael reached for the lamp, a second noise caught his attention.
It sounded like something had dropped in Stuarts room. Michael froze, listening intently. A door slammed shut, there was a bit of rustling. Michael slowly made his way to the door. He leaned over the chair and towards the peephole. He heard Stuart's door slam shut.
He was inches away when he realized something was in the peephole, but couldn't quite tell…
He leaned the last few inches and nearly let out an audible yell as he saw an eye looking right back at him.
There was a knock on the door. Michael backed away, slowly trying not to make a sound. He grabbed the lamp and clenched it in his fist. Maybe he could surprise the murderer. He looked for a hiding spot. The closet just to the left of the door would do. He slowly opened the door and cringed as it made a low creaking noise.
The door handle jiggled vigorously for five seconds, then stopped. It was silent. Michael crouched quietly in the closet, as minutes passed, without a sound. Then suddenly, there was another knock.
"Mr. Robinson," a familiar voice called out. "It's Redrick."
Michael pushed open the closet and climbed on the chair to peer through the peephole again. Redrick was standing alone in front of the door holding a tray of sliced salamis and cheese.
"I have a complimentary dish of food," Redrick called out.
"I'm ok. Thank you. I'm going to bed."
A key inserted into the door and flipped the lock.
"Redrick, I'm good," Michael yelled, backing away from the door, his fingers turned white as he squeezed the neck of the lamp.
The door pushed open, hitting the chair, then slammed open. Redrick burst into the room. His face was flushed white with a look of desperation. His mustache twitched, and his lips curled into a frown.
"Mr. Robinson—"
Michael swung the lamp forcefully and connected with the man's skull. Redrick’s body collapsed, tossing the tray in the air sending salami's all across the room.
A second man stepped in the doorway. Michael recognized him by the burn stretching up the side of his cheek. The man had a revolver clutched in his right hand.
"Gary?" Michael stated. He wasn't sure if he should be scared, relieved, or angry, but he felt all three.
"That was excessive," Gary said, looking down at the slumped concierge. "Impressive, though."
"Why didn't you say 'this is Gary' when you knocked?"
"That guy next door lost his mind when he saw me, so I thought you would too," Gary said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. He reached down, picked up a salami off the floor, and tossed it in his mouth. "Also, after our last conversation, I felt you might be surprised."
"Why would you show up?"
"I know who's trying to kill you," Gary stated.
"Why are you here?"
"Do you want to live?"
Michael nodded.
"Then, just follow my instructions." Gary made his way to the window, pulled down a blind, and examined the street.
"Has that truck been outside?" Gary asked. "Is that Redrick's truck?"
"I think it belongs to my killer."
Gary squinted at him. "Interesting."
Michael watched in confusion as Gary stripped the clothes off Redrick and dragged the unconscious body to the restroom. He slammed the door, pulled a few coins from his pocket, and pushed them tightly into the door frame on the hinged side.
"For reference, this is effective. He can get out, but he'll have to kick it down." Gary said.
Michael tried not to imagine old-man-Redrick attempting to kick down a door in his boxer briefs.
Gary put on Redrick's clothes, hooked the glasses onto the button up, and slid the knife and holster from his old pants onto his new outfit.
"I'll be right back."
Five minutes later, Gary returned. There was blood on his shirt. "We have a second car." He grinned. Tossing the keys to Michael.
"Who was that?"
"Said his name was Mr. Weatherly? That was not the killer. Follow me."
Michael followed him into Stuart's empty room. Gary opened the closet to reveal Stuart lying on the floor with his hands, feet, and mouth duct-taped shut.
"Should I kill him?" Gary asked with complete sincerity. "I know he works for The Company, I've seen him following you around."
"He has to stay within 40 meters of me, or The Company gets alerted," Michael said.
"It'd be tough carrying his dead body," Gary said to himself. He leaned down next to Stuart. "You will stay alive as long as you cooperate. If I get a whiff that something is off, I will kill you." Gary ripped the ducktape off Stuart's mouth, "Say you understand me."
"Gary?" Stuart managed, examining the man that he'd been in charge of reporting for the first time.
Gary walked over to the nightstand and lifted the alert device from the counter. "When I first pushed you in here, you lunged for this. What is it?"
"Stun gun," Stuart replied.
Gary slapped Stuart across the face with an open hand.
"It's an alert button to let them know when you arrive!" Stuart blurted. "You have to twist and then push, so I wouldn't accidentally activate it in my pocket."
"You're a terrible agent." Gary replied, "but thank you."
Michael shook his head.
Gary slid the device into his jean pocket. "Will you cooperate?"
Stuart nodded.
“We’re all going to make it through the night.” Gary started, “You two will live and The Company will get exactly what it wants, but you need to trust me. I have a plan.”