Dan Latus - One Damn Thing after Another

By the same author

Never Look Back

Risky Mission

Out of the Night

Run for Home

A Death at South Gare

Living Dangerously

And Then Youre Dead

Dedication

For Sandra, with love.

ONE
DAMN
THING
AFTER
ANOTHER

Dan Latus

ROBERT HALE

First published in 2017 by

Robert Hale, an imprint of

The Crowood Press Ltd,

Ramsbury, Marlborough

Wiltshire SN8 2HR

www.crowood.com

www.halebooks.com

This e-book first published in 2017

Dan Latus 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 71982 252 0

The right of Dan Latus to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Chapter One

I T WAS A QUIET , peaceful place. Or so I had been assured. A small boutique hotel in an unfashionable quarter of the city, a couple of miles from the usual Prague tourist spots. Perhaps it was quiet and peaceful normally. But when I stepped outside onto the pavement, and the ornate timber door closed automatically behind me, things looked very different.

A Range Rover with darkened windows was parked immediately across the pavement, a rear door open, ready for someone to step inside. A Toyota Land Cruiser, also with darkened windows, was parked close behind, and there was another one in front.

The man who probably should have been holding the door open lay prone on the pavement, bleeding heavily, his chauffeurs cap by his side. The man who I assumed had been about to step inside the Range Rover was being badly beaten by three other men, who looked as if they didnt know when to stop.

There were no screams or cries for help. There was no shouting in either triumph or despair. Nothing like that. Just a lot of grim, determined grunts and thuds, as the three doing the attacking slammed into their victim savagely and relentlessly.

The victim had his back to the vehicle. He was sagging, pretty well spent. But he wouldnt go down, and he was still flailing wildly and hopelessly at his assailants.

It was a good time to turn around and step back inside the elegant tranquillity of the boutique hotel. Instead, I did a stupid thing not for the first time, some would say.

Instinct shouldered reason aside. This couldnt be allowed to go on. I yelled at the men in front of me to stop, grabbed one by the shoulder and pulled him back. Then I stepped forward into the middle of it and lunged sideways, knocking another of them out of the way with my shoulder.

The third man turned and swung a fist that thudded heavily into my chest, knocking me back. I kicked out and hit his lower leg hard, as an arm wrapped round my throat from behind. I was hauled backwards but managed to stamp on somebodys instep with my heel hard enough for the arm to drop from my throat.

I spun round, my back to the Range Rover. The guy who had been about to collapse to the ground was straightening up now Id relieved him of some of the weight and pressure. Together, side by side, we fought back. A fist crashed into the side of my head, and another into my chest, but my blood was up and I registered little pain. I kicked and punched my weight automatically, without any thought whatsoever.

Suddenly there was blood everywhere. It was on my hands and in my eyes. The guy beside me let out a loud grunt and sagged. Then I saw the man in front of him was using a knife, and about to thrust with it again.

I reached out, grabbed the knife arm with both hands and put my whole body weight into throwing it over and back. Bone snapped as the arm broke free of the elbow joint. Somebody screamed. The knife dropped loose and disappeared from sight.

Then a bright overhead light came on, a security floodlight. It was followed by lots of yelling and shouting, and suddenly there was breathing space. People stopped hitting me, and the bodies in front of us thinned out until there was nobody left for me to hit back at.

I doubled over, breathing hard, but ready for more of the same if it started up again. It didnt. Nobody came back. The pavement between me and the door of the hotel had cleared.

Engines roared into life. The Range Rover shook as something slammed into it heavily. Tyres squealed. Both Land Cruisers were departing in a hurry.

It was over. I was heaving for breath and felt like vomiting, but somehow I straightened up. I glanced sideways. The man beside me gasped something I could barely hear, and couldnt understand anyway. Then the effort of trying to speak became too much for him. He just pushed his head into my shoulder, a gesture of thanks, and slowly straightened up himself.

While I stayed where I was, and continued struggling to get my breath back, he staggered forward a couple of paces and leant down to attend to the man on the ground. I could see he was in no state to manage alone. So I joined him and tried to help.

The chauffeur was conscious, but a long way from having his wits about him. We sat him up, with his back against the door of the vehicle. He was still leaking blood from the head wound, but by then uniformed staff were streaming out of the hotel and I eased back to let them take over.

Remarkably, the man who I had fought alongside was recovering fast. He shook my hand and thanked me in what sounded, surprisingly, like Russian. I nodded and gave him a brief appreciative smile. Then I did my best to melt away out of sight.

I sought the sanctuary of my ornate baronial-style room inside the boutique hotel, where I laid down on the bed to recover, and to wonder why such things happened to me. Other people can go on holiday and nothing out of the ordinary ever happens. Not me, though. Oh, no! If not this, then something else. Its inevitable. Just one damn thing after another!

Chapter Two

A FTER A WHILE, THE blood thundering in my ears quietened down and my pulse rate dropped to a survivable level. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, or what I could see of it in the early evening gloom.

Dim light from the sodium street lights outside the hotel allowed me to pick out men on horseback hunting a stag through rocky country without trees or discernible cover. I found myself wishing the stag luck. A tram squealed to a halt not far from the window of my room and a procession of vehicles dutifully stopped behind it, their engines throbbing as they waited more or less patiently for the tram to move off again.

Someone knocked on the door of my room. I waited, listening. Nothing was said. The knocking, a heavy, confident sound, was repeated. I grimaced. Clearly, I was wanted.

Yes? I called reluctantly, sitting up on the bed.

Mr Doy? May I speak with you, please?

Who is it?

The hotel management, Mr Doy.

I supposed Id better answer the door. Once I did that, though, I might be invited to start looking for another hotel. The management wouldnt be very keen on guests who partook in mayhem on their doorstep. Good thing I was leaving soon.

On the other hand, I thought, hesitating, my visitor might be nothing at all to do with the hotel management. So I stood well to one side and flung the door open wide suddenly with outstretched arm, hoping I didnt have to fight whoever was on the other side.

I didnt. The man standing there was familiar to me. Tall, slim, fit looking, and stern-faced, he was often behind the reception desk. I had spoken to him once or twice in the short time Id been here.