Free Scion by Murray McDonald Page B

bitched less when he knocked them about and didn’t need compensation for lost business. This place would cost him a fortune, after a session with him they wouldn’t be able to work in there for a week. The reception area was immaculate and Clark wondered whether he was in the right place. It looked more like a high class lawyers’ reception. However, as he approached the receptionist, she dispelled that thought, sitting in nothing more than her bra, panties and suspenders.
    “Good evening Sir,” she smiled perfectly.
    “Hmm,” Clark’s mind was elsewhere, the thought of her screaming in pain tied to the bed was arousing him. He snapped himself out of it, promising himself he’d come back for a taste another time.
    “Darius, please” he commanded.
    “I’m sorry we don’t have a Darius, Sir. I’ve got a Juan, a Richard and a Paul,” she replied looking at the screen in front of her.
    Clark ’s temper flared.
    “I’m not some fucking bum boy, you fucking bitch !” More than ever he wanted her on the bed screaming in pain, he could teach this bitch a thing or two.
    “I want to see your boss -man, Darius.”
    As he raised his voice t wo men appeared from behind the partition that separated the reception area from the rest of The Palace. Clark also sensed another two coming up behind him.
    “Now, now Sir, calm down,” suggested the man stepping between Clark and the receptionist. The other three moved in closely, surrounding Clark, leaving him little room for manoeuvre.
    “I need to talk to Darius,” Clark informed them confidently.
    “A white boy with balls, eh ? Well Darius ain’t wanting to talk to you. So if you don’t mind,” the man pointed to the elevator as the man at his rear stepped aside.  
    Clark followed the pointed hand and looked towards the elevator but then slowly turned back to face the desk.
    “You’re failing to grasp the enormity of the issue,” began Clark icily, his eyes suddenly darkening. “It makes no odds to me, I can speak to Darius now or in twenty minutes in the back of the ambulance rushing him to Intensive Care. It’s your call.”
    Clark stared into the eyes of the man in front of him and could tell he had rattled him, nothing scared people more than looking into the eyes of a cold blooded killer. As he delivered his chilling message, his hands had very carefully removed the two Walther P99 silenced pistols from their holsters, with his hands crossed across his stomach the heads of the two men at his sides would be all but removed within the next second. The other two heavies and the receptionist would be shot once each through the forehead. Clark had already planned each shot, taking into account any reactionary movements. For example the receptionist would be shot last and he would shoot 18 inches diagonally down to the left of where her head now was as she would duck down to the right. Clark had killed enough people to know exactly how people reacted in any given situation.
    Darius had watched on the CCTV as the man had entered and then been surrounded by his men . He had also noticed the man’s hands move, something he knew his men hadn’t.
    The buzzer on the reception desk buzzed and cut through the deadly atmosphere . The receptionist tentatively moved her hand towards it, pressing it down.
    “Send the man up please ,” boomed Darius.
    The three men surrounding Clark stepped back instantly, surprised to see the guns that had not been there previously pointing at them.
    “You wouldn’t mind leaving these here would you please?” asked the man at reception nervously . He had never met anyone like Clark before.
    “Not at all,” replied Clark, he had another gun in an ankle holster and several throwing knives in his belt.
    Clark was escorted into Darius’ office by the receptionist, still promising himself a return visit as she walked back out of the office, her thong leaving nothing to the imagination.
    “Yes, very nice but I’m afraid not for