Running Steel

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

It was several months later. After the incident in the New York shopping mall, London ordered Steel to take extended sick leave. This was to rest his injuries and give him space from the NYPD.

In his report to the head of MI8, a man known only as CO, Steel insisted that his time in New York was over with no further signs of SANTINI. Steel suggested that he should return to Britain for reassignment.

CO had agreed that his time was best spent doing his job with the Secret Service, not playing detective and eating doughnuts. London was satisfied with what had occurred, but they were still puzzled about how the bomb had detonated.

Steel had thought there might have been a second person involved, someone with an electronic detonator, just in case something went wrong. However, London had dismissed this theory and thought it more plausible that the device had a fault.

The skies above Barcelona were watercolour splashes of red and purple on a cloudless canvas. Barcelona’s streets were filling with people, commuters heading about their business, and flocks of tourists who wanted an early start.

Freshly fallen leaves danced along clean pavements, and the fountain display roundabouts lay dormant and unlit until later that evening.

The city streets were filled with a mix of modern and turn-of-the-century style buildings—breath-taking architecture. Christmas lights hung from lamppost to lamppost across the streets, dressing up the roads and making fantastic photo opportunities during the dark of the evening. The cries of seagulls mixed with traffic sound as they swooped and danced in the perfect blue heavens.

Even though it was November, it felt like a British spring morning. It was nine degrees at seven in the morning, with the promise of high teens later in the day. So, the heat would be warm but not uncomfortable.

Steel had been up for hours; the truth was, he had hardly slept at all. His flight had gotten in around eight o’clock the evening before. After a fantastic meal in a local restaurant, he’d headed off to the casino to try his luck.

The modern casino had been loud, more Las Vagas than a quiet room, with people in tuxedos. Steel had played a couple of hands at the poker table and won around two grand, then lost a couple of hundred on craps. He was there to unwind and blow off some steam. His last case had been tough, and he needed some time alone.

He had left without warning. No goodbyes or news of where he was going; he’d just disappeared two months ago after being sent on sick leave. Steel had used the time to sort out his father’s company back in Britain and recuperate from the shrapnel they had taken out of him. The costume he had been wearing was padded on the upper body, so he had taken several shards to the legs and arms. Just more scars and bad memories to add to his collection.

Steel could hear Captain Brant of the 11th Precinct yelling and cursing. But Steel didn’t care.

At that moment, he felt nothing apart from the warmth of the sun and a fresh, subtle easterly breeze on his skin. Steel smiled as he walked off, the stiffness caused by the long flight and the lack of sleep from the night before.

Steel was dressed in black, the suit and shirt he had bought at a local store, which still blended in during the day without looking like he’d spent the night in it. He took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. Steel decided to take the route near the beach. It was over a half-hour walk, so he thought he’d make the most of it. The sea breeze continued to feel good against his skin, and the sound of the ocean was like soothing music to his ears.

The sidewalks near the seafront were almost clear at that time in the morning, less for joggers, dog walkers, and the occasional person who wanted to watch the sunrise. As he casually walked towards his hotel, Steel could feel the wondering gazes of women on him as they headed to their places of work. He had to admit that he did look good for a guy who had only had two hours of sleep on the plane. Steel put it down to the suit, tanned skin, and the twelve o’clock shadow he had going. He had left his cell phone and unique sunglasses back at the hotel but wore contact lenses to hide his green eyes.

Here he was, just Steel on vacation. He didn’t even feel much of a British Lord. Let alone an NYPD Detective. Lord Steel. The title made him laugh every time he heard it. But, of course, he wasn’t Lord Steel; his father had had that honour. As far as he was concerned, that died with him that fateful day. But Steel was, if anything, an honourable man. A man who believed in everything that people didn’t want to get involved in, such as duty, code of honour, and keeping up tradition. For that reason, he kept the title he’d inherited and carried on the family business. So not only did the multi-billion dollar company give him a little extra capital but gave him access to some exciting toys.

Steel had to admit that the title did have some perks, such as the best hotel rooms and not waiting in line in busy restaurants, and of course, it proved a massive hit with the ladies. But as much as it was a blessing, it was a burden. His whole job was to blend in and disappear when required. He was trained to be a ghost, and someone shouting out his name and trying to photograph him could blow that whole thing out of the water. So, he kept to himself and indulged in the press a few photographs when he was back in Britain, dealing with the family business. But all that seemed irrelevant at that moment. Steel was hungry and tired. All he needed was coffee and a good breakfast.

Steel made his way past the harbour that housed expensive yachts and catamarans and headed for a footbridge that connected the main footpath with a sea view mall to his left. The building was a multi-level glass, concrete, and Steel construction, with wooden decking flooring up to the main entrance. Steel glanced at it and moved towards a towering statue of Columbus, which stood on a decorative column of stone and weathered bronze.

Steel was enjoying his first holiday. Sure, he had time off in the Army, but he had always spent that time with his dear wife, Helen. So, now, he was alone except for the people watching him. At first, he had thought it was MI8 keeping tabs on him. But these were different; these were company people. Steel figured CIA.

Steel hadn’t done anything about them. Why should he? So far, all they had done was follow him. He kept checking his room for cameras or listening devices but always came up empty. So, were they there for him or someone else? Or was it a mere coincidence?

But Steel didn’t like coincidences. He believed in them, but it didn’t make them less tiresome.

Following the street, he passed several government buildings. Structures that, despite their unkempt state, still held a grand elegance. He was heading left, following the natural curvature of the sidewalk, past the World Trade Centre to a curved pale stone building near the water’s edge: Steel’s hotel.

About twenty feet behind him, a man in a blue tracksuit and black hair, pretending to jog, followed Steel all the way.

As he entered the lobby, he felt an invisible pull, as if his bed were summoning him. The lobby’s ample open space was full of people checking in and out. Still, three people positioned on a long sofa caught his eye: two bulky men and a tall woman. One of the men wore a grey suit and had a serious look.

At first, Steel thought nothing of it. He was too tired to care. Besides, they would be there for someone else if they were suits from an agency. So, Steel put them down as private security for one of the many rich people staying at the hotel.

They couldn’t be there for him because nobody knew he was there. Steel hadn’t even known he would be there until he boarded the flight the day before. It was a last-minute decision, one he was enjoying.

Steel waited for the elevator while ensuring he kept the three in his line of sight using various reflective surfaces. They just sat there and looked ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble.

‘Nice way to blend in, lads,’ Steel said, joking.

The suite was lavish and modern, with a wooden floor stretching throughout the open plan. A small lounge area was doglegged to the right of the sleeping area. Directly in front of the bed was a balcony and a panoramic view from a huge arched window.

For Steel, it was more about the view than the price, something his mother had always taught him and something he still aspired to do. He tossed his jacket on the bed in the hotel suite before collapsing next to it. His eyes felt heavy, the bed soft … and the next thing was inevitable … as Steel fell into a deeply troubled sleep.

* * *

Three hours had passed when Steel woke to the sound of housekeeping entering his room. The woman was in her late twenties and quite attractive from what Steel had seen through blurry eyes. She had long raven-coloured hair, straight and unstyled. Her white uniform hugged her athletic figure.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here,’ the maid gasped. ‘I’ll come back later.’

‘It’s fine,’ Steel said, heaving himself off the bed. ‘You go ahead and clean. I am off to take a shower anyway.’ He stepped into the large bathroom.

The woman thanked him and watched. Her eyes widened as he took off his shirt, revealing an athletic, muscular frame. But her gaze was fixed on the six-round scars on his back. Three formed an odd V-shape from his shoulders to his lower back. Three more were at the centre of his back in a curious design, almost like the number one. The door closed, and she shuddered to think what he had been through; then she smiled, considering that tight muscular back and wondering what the rest of him would look like naked.

* * *

Steel turned on the water, took off the rest of his clothes, folded them neatly, and placed them on the toilet seat. He looked in the mirror as it started to fog up due to the steam from the scalding hot water, noting how tired he looked, with bloodshot eyes and a day-old beard. Steel gazed into his soulless dark-green eyes, hoping to make the memory of the last case go away. Wishing he would wake up and find it was seven months earlier … that London hadn’t given him that case.

Steel closed his eyes tight and then opened them again slowly, gazing back into those lifeless eyes. From the other side of the door, he could hear the cleaner hoovering and a couple of knocking sounds which he put down to the woman hitting the furniture. He climbed into the shower and stood under the cascading water. Letting it hammer his tight muscular frame.