Morrisey scanned the corridor while Mallory used her skill to pick the lock on Luka's hotel room door. It seemed an endless wait but in reality just a few seconds. She straightened up and opened it cautiously, waving him in behind her. He missed the opening of the service lift door, and the exit of the silent passenger.

"Check the bathroom," she commanded, making for the bed and looking beneath it.

He glanced at her then went into the bathroom. It was larger than their own, and had a divider between the sink and the toilet. He crossed the room and leaned over to see behind the short wall. The sound from the other room made him jerk upright and move swiftly to the door.

Mallory was on her knees behind the bed, and the man he recognized as Luka was firing his silenced gun at her. Morrisey launched himself in a half dive, half run, slamming into Luka and driving them both noisily into the TV stand by the dresser. They crashed to the floor, each roaring from different shocks of pain after hitting the furniture.

Luka lost the gun but not his senses. He grappled for Morrisey's head, locking his neck with a forearm. The pressure was fierce, and Morrisey could feel his ability to breath waning. With a great effort he swung his legs around and pushed off the wall with all his strength, sending them skidding a few feet back into the dresser corner.

The crack on the back of his head caused Luka to relax his grip, and Morrisey rolled free, gasping. The two men locked eyes as they both saw the gun lying between them. A desperate lunge, then suddenly Luka was flying backwards, crashing once again into the dresser; this time not moving.

Morrisey hauled himself up and shook his head. Mallory had delivered a sweeping blow with the briefcase, catching Luka squarely in the face.

"Jesus, that was a hell of a forehand."

She stood, trembling at the sight of Luka's head, angled impossibly over one shoulder. Morrisey reached out and relieved her of the briefcase, then took her arm and led her to the bed.

"Sit and take it easy. I'll get you some water." He moved into the bathroom, returning right away with a tumbler of water.

"Here, sip this." He looked back at Luka and blew out an impressed breath. "Is that your first?"

She glanced up, eyes vacant, then a tremor overtook her whole body, and he sat beside her, holding her tight. "It's okay. It's shock, you'll be okay in a minute." He took the glass from her hand and held it to her lips. "Take some."

When he had taken her back to their room and made sure she was okay, He went back and cleaned up Luka's room. Moving the body into the closet, he covered it with a spare blanket from the shelf above. There was nothing else he could find. Luka had nothing on his person save some pound notes and change, a small pocket knife, and a comb.

He returned to their room and found Mallory sitting on the bed staring at the briefcase. She looked up when he came in, and it appeared she had come through the period of shock and out the other side, in control again. The phone lay on the bed, a blank blue screen waited passively. Mallory started tapping her chin with her fist.

"I spoke to Percy." His look was one of regretful upset. "I had to." She said. "We need to sanitize Luka's room. You and I can't do it."

"What did he say? Did you tell him we had the briefcase? Mission Red Closet was a success." His tone bordered on disgust.

"If I had said we recovered the briefcase, he would demand I turn it over. My asset would be blown and I'd be pilloried."

"What did you think would happen after he told us where to find it?"

"I told you, it was a gut decision. Look," She tapped the case. "We get a sudden message from Percy telling us where to find the killer, and the case. Who had all this information in the first place? Who sent the killer? How did they find these things out so fast? I just feel something is very wrong . . ."

He began pacing. "That's what I said earlier. We did exactly what you wanted." Her questions awoke uncomfortable doubt, sending it creeping into his mind. Who indeed? And why? "What are we supposed to do now? Percy's people will be all over this place."

"We need to see the contents of this case." She said tentatively. "We also need a way in. Did you find anything on- on him?"

He tossed the items on the bed, shaking his head. "Nothing much. He was bare essentials only."

She fingered the items, picking up the pound notes and counting them. "What's this?"

"What?" He walked to her and accepted the pound note.

"Those markings on the money."

Morrisey held the note up and studied it. "They're Russian." His head tilted thoughtfully. "You think maybe this is where he kept a copy of the combination in case he forgot?"

"If only." She smirked, and then it morphed into a silent oooh. "Do you really think--?"

"Maybe. Let's see if my Russian is up to scratch."

"I think we should leave the hotel first, before Percy's cleaners get here. We'll need a safe site to do this."

"I love your optimism. Okay, where? A bomb squad wouldn't hurt either." He shot her a side eye.

♟♟♟♟♟

The Vauxhall turned into the narrow drive beside the empty building, following it to an open space at the rear. Mallory shut the engine off and climbed out.

"What's this," Morrisey asked, getting out after her.

"Used to be a manufacturer of prototype tank parts, anti-aircraft gun equipment, and assembly jigs for aeroplanes. It closed in the late 1990s. Perfect for our little exercise."

"And you know about this place because?"

"Had an uncle who worked here. He arranged a tour for the family once after he received a big promotion."

"I take it you were a little girl."

She smirked, and lifted the briefcase from the car. "Let's go."