Saving Mr. Player

3. Not A Single Scratch On Ricci!

Amy rushed out of the monitoring room, where the rattling noise of the door, made Fred look towards the mirror. Aurora, who was still hysteric, had her voice stuck inside her throat but trembled listening to a rattling sound coming from outside the room she was trapped inside.

Fred walked out of the room and watched Amy rushed down the end of the corridor followed by Arturo.

“What’s going on?”  he walked into the monitor room where Arturo was busy on phone making a call and while Lance sat back working on the laptop and Antonio prepared himself to leave with Amy.

“I am going with her!” he informed Arturo who nodded his head giving the permission, so Antonio rushed out of the room, loading his bullets inside his pistol.

“The killer is out there. Amy caught his image and he was spotted near the residence of Intercontinental where Royal Madrid is staying.” Arturo notified Fred with the progress but made his way out of the room, as more and more notifications and calls were incoming.

Fred smirked, thinking that the hitman Aurora hired was now going to get caught and even though that Amy made an effort to catch the killer, he would still swoop the credit as he was the first one to point out the mastermind who he still thought was Aurora. He always held a sense of over confidence in his plans.

He made his way back inside the room and continued harassing a scared Aurora.

“They are about to catch your partner…” he smirked, walking towards the metallic seat and relaxing his body.

“How many times would I have to tell you that. I did not kill Paul. Why would I kill him? I loved him…” she cried through her sobs, her throat heavy and tonsils congested with heaviness, her breath quivering as she spoke, her mind still dazzled with the thought of everything that had happened so far in her life.

She was indeed Paul’s ex-girlfriend, they had been in love for seven years, she even fought for their relationship and quit her college when Paul got selected in The Royal Madrid and they had to move to Madrid. She stayed loyal to him, but her heart was crushed when she found out that he was cheating on her and even broke up with him last month. But for the past week she had been trying to visit him, following him to get to talk to him for even a second but one of many times, she approached Paul, he was with other girls and she couldn’t bring herself the courage to talk to him. When she finally mustered up the courage to talk to him face to face, it was few hours before the match and unfortunately the security didn’t let her get pass and now she lives with a huge secret residing within her.

“He left you for another woman, you loved him. This is a perfect crime of passion. You just made it on national television to make it a lesson for lovers all around the world…” Fred’s voice rose with every word he said, startling Aurora out of her daze of thoughts that she was stuck in. she looked up at Fred as he slowly magnified in size, walking towards her, like a hawk preying on a free bird,

“You just wanted to prove that Paul did you wrong and that is why…” he got up in a haste, pushing the chair back with force startling Aurora even more, as fear took over her body, “You are a hateful woman. A woman who couldn’t take rejection and killed an innocent, rising soccer play!” her yelled, slamming his hands on the table, rattling it.

Aurora shook with extreme horror; her entire body began shaking uncontrollably. She hid her face inside her arm, a failed attempt at trying to hide away.

“Please, I haven’t done anything…” she kept crying with small sobs, while Fred stood smirking with pride, thinking he was close to breaking her up and pulling the truth out of her.

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“Will you at least tell me, what is going on?” Antonio asked Amy, who was busy in her iPad, going through files after files, while he drove the BMW in full speed.

She tightened her holster around her waist, loading her gun, checking for bullets, and fixing her gun back inside the leather holster.

At the same time, Amy’s phone began ringing. She answered the phone, putting it on loud speaker and placing it on the dashboard, while she went towards the backseat of the car, grabbing more ammunition and files.

“Amy! What is going on? Where are you? I received a call from the Interior Minister. He is asking for progress. The press is on our necks.” Arturo spoke over the phone, his tone sounded angered and anxious.

Amy rolled her eyes, fixing herself on the passenger seat and passing down a loaded gun on safety to Antonio. He looked at her with confusion while she mouthed silently; “We will need them.”

She then answered Arturo, “Did you ask Richard for backup?”

Arturo sighed in annoyance, knowing that Amy was stubborn to let any information put without getting her own answers first but he also trusted her, knowing whatever she would be doing would be for everyone’s better interest. 

“Yes!” he said in a defeated tone.

Amy then looked at Antonio who was giving her a confused look. She sighed and finally spoke up, going through her iPad, as if confirming her information.

“Their primary target was not Paul. He was killed accidentally.”

“What do you mean?” Arturo asked in a confused tone while Antonio only gave her a hazed look.

“I saw the video, the bullet was shot, estimated that it would hit Alessandro Ricci instead of Paul… but Ricci stood back passing the ball to Davič, who stepped ahead and so the bullet hit him…” she admitted.

There was a moment of silence, as if Arturo was confused and needed more explanation.

“To kill Paul wouldn’t help them but to kill Ricci, he is the star of the club…” she said as she went through his profile, “He scored the greatest number of goals and was going to make his team win. If someone wanted to just kill Paul, they would have had him killed, there were multiple times when he was alone during the whole match, why shoot him when already six players were around him? They could have even killed Alessandro as well… But because they were waiting for a critical moment, hanging until the last moment because the gambling bet was already canceled, so they wanted their team to win in any condition to win the tournament money. It was all about wining for Gerald…” Arturo listened to her carefully understanding the whole thing.

“There was going to be tie and the match was going to be drawn on penalties and it’s Ricci’s record, he never misses even one penalty. They couldn’t risk it so they wanted to have him dead. But accidentally now Paul has been killed.”

She finally put two and two together and everyone understood that her theory made more sense.

“And if Paul was their prime target? Why is the killer still out there? Why not already underground? Why risking his life? Because the final match for the cup might take place again and Ricci is still alive and would make his team win. The killer is near the hotel to hurt Ricci. They are out for his blood…”

Arturo’s throat went dry. As a pioneer of football, who loved soccer more than his life, he worshiped Ricci for his excellency and being Spain’s God of Football and hence his heart was drenched in fear, now knowing that the star’s protection and safety of life was going to be their prime goal.

Amy and Antonio both shared a determined look, while Arturo spoke in an authoritative tone, telling the right thing that was needed to be done;

“Listen Amy… no matter what happens! Not a single scratch on Ricci!”

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The cream walled presidential suite was awfully quiet for the night. The brown and red velvet couches had slumped and gloomy heads bent down looking into voids of their own hearts. The brown patterned curtains were drawn in, canceling out all the light coming form outside the quiet shiny street. The entire Madrid was scared inside their homes and mourning the loss of a rising football star and so was his team inside the presidential of the presidential suite.

All the team members, who were planning on partying their victory in the same room initially were now looking at the red jersey shirt that had ‘Davič – 15’ printed in bold white over the back. Looking at it, brought nothing but pure sadness and tears into their tears, making them wonder why this had happened.

“Why him?”

One of the footballer players, named Fen spoke up. He had a short height with a bowl buzzcut on his head, his eyes filled with tears as he mourned his friend, continuously asking the same question, over and over again.

The main question that stuck remained in everyone’s head was the fact that Paul was the most fun loving and caring person in the entire team. It was his first tournament and he was filled with hope and energy. The LED TV placed on the wall adjacent to the large wooden door, played montages by different news and sports channel that were showing different footages they had received by audiences of Paul being shot. They were continuously playing montages of his career. Many news channels had reached outside Paul’s house in Croatia, trying get an interview with his family.

“Paul Davič, also known as ‘Davič – 15’ was a rising star of soccer in the world…” the newscaster lady began describing the deceased life, “During his final game, he was assassinated where he was murdered with what could be seen in the video by a sniper…” the screen changed to a fan sent video where they flying bullet could be clearly seen, roaring through the air and reaching Davič.

The newscaster continued, “The police or any authorities haven’t given any official statement on the case, however through our sources we have found out that in the noon four hours before the game, Paul Davič’s former girlfriend did visit him while he was staying at his hotel and he refused to see her and it is being said that soon after the assassination she was arrested from her apartment at Yanidel Street and she is under investigation by the authorities… however the real motive for the murder of such a marvelous future of soccer remains a mystery…”

“Sick Bastards!” another of the team member yelled out, picking the bottle of tequila in front of him on the glass coffee table and throwing it directly on the TV. “They don’t know what is the pain of losing a real family member!

He yelled on top of his lungs, his eyes going blind with tears, mourning the loss of his brother. He was tall heightened and suave looking, with a beard shaven well close to his face.

“Adrian…” another one of the team members that stood near the wall, came ahead and patted him on the back, soothing his restless soul.

Adrian was the closest to Paul as the two had been playing in different clubs for years now.

Listening to the shattering sound of the glass, security pulled inside the suite, bursting through the doors of the large hall.

“Is everyone alright?” a tall blue eyed, blond haired guy asked. His muscles were all puffed and chest was pumped, popping out of his chest. His badge read the name ‘Richard Benson’.

“Why don’t you go and catch the murderer, who is still out there and do a real job?” Fen yelled at Richard, who stood in his security outfit, holding his guns closed to his body, knowing that the team was at an emotional peak at the moment, due to the loss of a close member.

Richard’s other team member looked at the smashed bottle and the broken TV and pointed it at Richard, who simply nodded his head.

“Would you guys like to order something to eat?” Richard asked in his polite British accent, while everyone simply ignored, judging his audacity to ask them to eat when things are at a dark point of their lives.

When they all simple gave him a stinky eye, he nodded his head understanding their decision and crossing his hands across his torso, “The authorities will be here in a while and we were told that no one would be allowed to leave or come in here after that…” Richard informed politely.

“Maybe…” Alessandro who was awfully silent throughout the whole evening finally spoke in a venomous tone, “If you did your duty earlier, Paul would’ve been alive.”

He clearly showed that to him it was the police and their inability to protect his team member that lead to his death.

Richard looked at his partner and the two simply made their way out of the room, standing outside at both sides of the wooden door. From the corridor of the suite to the entire hotel, to the lobby every place was surrounded by gunned guards. Some in tuxedos who were special security forces while some were in heavy armory, covered in SWAT suits, holding their machine guns. While inside the pantry, there was an unusual hustle bustle, where the kitchen staff was busy preparing food for the security team and even the team staying in their hotel.

In one of the kitchen units, behind all the rustling and the hanging silverware, one of the waiters wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, with his name badge reading ‘Pablo Gillen’, walked out of the double steel doors, that had two small circular windows in it. He walked out, carrying black bags of trash and made his way towards the large black trash can, picking up the led lid, he threw the bags inside but someone grabbed his face from behind, he began muffling screams but within seconds his head was snapped and he went crashing onto the ground. A thick glove wrapped hand, picked his foot up and dragged his body behind the trash cans.

The steel doors of the kitchen opened again and wearing the same uniform, a bald guy walked in with a black deep wavy scar running underneath his left eye up till his jaw being clearly visible.

A food filled trolley passed out from one of the units, announcing it to be taken for room ‘506’. He smirked through his puckered purple lips and carried the tray outside the kitchen.

Some of the security team that saw him coming out of the kitchen let him pass by knowing he was the waiter. His name tag read ‘Pablo Gillen’ and he still strode with confidence.

He entered inside the large glass elevator and went up towards the 9th floor, where all the presidential suites were situated.

The elevator dinged open onto the floor and throughout the whole floor after every two feet two security guards stood holding machine guns to their chests.

He walked out with clear confidence. While, the guards noticing his presence but he kept his gaze straight, aware of his presence, walking like a hawk, careful and steady in a stealthy mode, making sure to not to pounce directly on its prey and to scare it away.

He took a turn into the corner of the corridor, reaching nearer to his target but as soon as he looked ahead, even more strict security waited for him. He kept his gaze straight and calculated all the guards, they were around fifty standing in the corridor while even more would probably be standing in the next right corridor where the presidential suite was. While right in front of that corridor were the large staircase, giving a direct excess to the presidential suite lobby.

He looked up to one of the guards who was already looking up at him and passed him a fake smile while he simply nodded his head, thinking that one of the soccer players might have ordered room service.

He walked a few more steps until one of the security persons walked ahead and held his hand.

He looked at the tray. The silver lid covered tray that was shining with the guard’s own reflection in the black SWAT suit, the expensive liquor bottle placed inside the metallic ice bucket. He then looked up at the waiter.

“Who ordered it?” he asked, keeping a hold on his gun.

The waiter noticed his move but simply nodded his head as he spoke with a soft smile, “Alessandro Ricci”.

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