Without Options
“So he backtracked slightly down a switchback mountain to a gasthaus with a view of St. Anton below. After a beer at the restaurant bar on the first floor, he decided on a direction he wanted to take. He checked into a room on the first floor, paid deliberately with a Visa in his name, and settled in for a quick nap, his bike wheeled into the room.He guessed it would take someone a while to figure out where he was staying. At least with Franz on his side he wouldn’t have the Austrian Polizei com...ing around. But someone would be tracking his financial accounts—at least those he wanted them to track.He’d chosen this gasthaus for a number of reasons. It wasn’t just isolated; only a couple other people were staying there. Also the rooms were accessed like an American motel from the outside. If someone came for him, he could control the collateral damage.When darkness came, he left the light on in his room, the shades slightly drawn, and the little television on loud enough to hear it outside.Now, dressed in black from head to foot, one pistol under his left arm and covered with a wind breaker and another clipped to his belt on his right hip, also covered, Jake stepped out into the parking lot and took a position in the trees twenty meters from his room.People came and went as he watched from the forest.MoreLess
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