15: Macao (JP from RP)

As he closed in, Jamie glanced inside the Australian's hotel room. The lights were off, so it looked like he was alone.
"Did you just follow me up here, kid?"
The man’s expression was curious rather than fearful. Jamie decided that Noah would be better able to play this role than him. But he assumed that the slim teenager was just a lonely kid who had taken the casual conversation in the elevator for more than it was
worth.
"I don't know what your problem is, son, but - I'm really sorry - I’ve got things to do."
The man put up no defence as Jamie landed a quick jab with the brass knuckle. It sliced open the side of the Australian’s head and sent him stumbling backwards into the room.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the knock-out blow Jamie had hoped for.
As the door of the hotel room slammed shut behind him, Jamie landed a roundhouse kick in the man's stomach. But when he closed in to take another swing with the knuckleduster, the dazed Australian kicked back. Jamie dodged and the kick only glanced across his ribs, but his opponent was bigger and weighed half as much as Jamie did again, and it sent him slamming against the doors of a wardrobe.
The Aussie wiped his mouth on his jacket before facing Jamie off in a serious-looking fighting stance.
“So, you know some moves, eh?" he grinned, as blood trickled down his head. "What are you, the world’s poshest mugger?"
"Something like that," Jamie said coarsening his accent, trying to sound more confident
than he felt.
Now he'd lost the element of surprise, Jamie was worried that he would be outmatched by a significantly larger opponent who had clearly done martial arts training.
"Why don't you back out the door and we'll forget about this?" the Australian asked. "I won't call the cops on you, I don't want any trouble."
Jamie considered the offer while his heart banged in his ear. His opponent was huge, fit and knew how to fight. The most important thing you learn in combat training is that you should never bite off more than you can chew.
"Right," Jamie said, backing gingerly towards the door and even managing an uneasy smile as he grabbed the handle. "Even stevens."
Jamie tugged at the heavy door, keeping one eye on his opponent. As he was about to step out, the Australian suddenly jerked forwards and began spewing up on to the carpet. Realising that the blow to the head had taken more out of his opponent than he'd thought, Jamie let the door go, then used it as a kickboard to gain explosive speed. He crashed into his weakened opponent with a powerful kick to the head.
The Australian collapsed backwards into writing desk, clutching a dislocated jaw as Jamie knocked him out cold with another jab. After being momentarily revolted by the chunks of puke all over his hand, Jamie’s X training kicked in.
Priority one was to defend the room in case someone else turned up. Jamie twisted the lock and then flipped across the manual bolt.
It's tricky to judge how long someone is going to stay unconscious, so step two was to secure the victim. Jamie grabbed the desktop lamp and ripped it out of the wall socket. He grabbed a multitool from his tracksuit bottoms and cut the plastic flex from the base of the lamp. Then he folded the free cable into equal lengths and sliced it in two.
The unconscious Australian was slumped backwards over the desk. Jamie slid off the knuckleduster and pulled on a pair of disposable gloves, the pandemic had made carrying things like masks and disposable gloves normal, it was a covert activities bonus. He grabbed the quilt off the bed and throwing it down to cover the puke on the floor. He knelt in front of his victim and began tying his ankles with the flex.
After binding ankles and wrists, Jamie realised his victim was struggling to breathe. He prised open the Australian's mouth and was rewarded with a dribble of vomit. Jamie turned his head away from the nauseating smell, then plunged two gloved fingers down his throat to
clear out the muck.
Once Jamie was certain that his victim was breathing properly, he used all his strength to lower the unconscious body to the floor on top of the quilt. Then he adjusted the limbs into the recovery position so that his victim didn't choke while he was unconscious.
Now the room and victim were secure, Jamie switched the soggy
gloves for a fresh pair before pulling his cell phone out of his jacket.
“Bobby, it's me."
“Jamie, where are you?"
It was only as he stood with his mobile to his face, staring at his giant victim trussed up on the floor, that Jamie got realistic sense of what he'd just achieved. There had to be a new tee-shirt in this.
"I’ve got him good," Jamie said jubilantly, almost laughing. “I'm at the Crowne Residence, room nineteen-eleven and our oversized friend is tied up at my feet."
Bobby sounded pleased. "Good job. Was he armed?"
"Nope," Jamie said. "He didn't seem the type, so I risked it."
"Are you OK?"
"Except for the dude's puke all over my jacket, yeah."
"Right," Bobby said. "Do you feel safe up there?"
"I think," Jamie said. "I haven't had much chance to look around, but it seems like he's the only person staying in this room.”
“Have you got anything useful from him?”
“Nah, he’s out cold, no point in trying to read someone who is unconscious. I have no idea how long he will be out for.”
"What type of joint is it?"
"Plush," Jamie said. "Five stars, easily."
Bobby tutted. "Place like that is gonna have security cameras every where and who knows if the bad guys are friendly with the management. Did he see much of you before you knocked him out?"
"Enough to make positive ID. We rode up in the elevator together and ended up having a tussle before I knocked him out. He's a bit bloody and think his jaw might be broken, but he'll still be breathing when the chambermaid finds him."
"Right, in that case, I want you to make it look like a mugging. Take photographs for identification purposes, then steal his passport, money, documents, watch, jewellery and anything else that looks like it's worth money. Put it all in one of his bags and walk out the front door."
"OK boss. It's a big hotel, there was a line of taxis out front when I came in. Shall I head back in one of those?"
"Sounds good," Bobby said. "Don't head directly to the apartment. Ask the driver to take you to the Great Northern Hotel and I"ll meet you in the lobby."
"Who’s staying there?"
"Nobody, but it's not far from where I am staying. Best to cover our tracks."
Jamie smiled, realising he was being dim. "Yeah, of course."
"Call me when you get in the taxi."
Jamie ended the call and pocketed the phone. He crouched over the unconscious man, a slid a hand inside his suit and found a wallet. He flipped it open and read the man's name off
credit card: Barry M. Cox.
It was gone ten o"clock when Jamie emerged from a cab outside the lobby of the Great Northern Hotel. Bobby grabbed a smart leather bag as Jamie paid the driver.
"Keep the change."
"We'll head straight back to my hotel," Bobby said, as the cab pulled away. "It's only a few hundred metres. How do you feel?"
"No injuries," Jamie said. "But I'm knackered. Can we stop somewhere and get Coke or something?"
"There's a mini bar in my room," Bobby said, as he set off briskly.
"We're in a rush: Emma and Noah are waiting for us."
"Waiting for what?"
"Emma"s going to take all the documents and paperwork you stole from Cox back to the apartment. She's gonna scan them and e-mail the whole lot through to the Institute for analysis. You said you had his phone?"
Jamie nodded. "Yeah, it was in a his jacket. I tried getting something out of it while I was in the cab, but it's got a password."
"That's no major surprise," Bobby said. "I’ve got you booked on a BA flight leaving at one a.m. Last check-in for business class is at midnight, which gives you two hours to get yourself cleaned up, fed and headed off to the airport. Emma has brought your passport and a change of clothes over to my hotel room. It's a eighteen-hour flight back to New York.”
"Why am I leaving?"
"Friends of Humanity always uses strong encryption. Any useful data on that phone is going to take serious computer power to decode and that means I want that machine back at the Institute ASAP. Tessa will want to see it, and the sooner you're out of here the better. You’ve almost certainly been filmed by a security camera entering that hotel and then leaving with Barry Cox’s bag. Macao makes a lot of money out of foreign visitors and the police take crime against tourists seriously. They’ll be on the lookout for a kid fitting your description."
"That's if it gets reported to the police. I think Cox might prefer to stay out of their way."
“The hotel management are bound to call in the cops when they find him trussed up. Whether Cox files a complaint or not is another matter."
“I cleaned up my fingerprints and I wore gloves during the search, but someone might still pick up traces of my DNA in that hotel room."
"We'll deal with it," Bobby said. "Once the heat dies down, we'll make sure any evidence linking you to that hotel robbery goes walkabout."
Jamie nodded. "Do you think there's any chance I could be picked up at the airport?"
Bobby shook his head. "A hotel mugging isn't going to spark a full security alert."
The pair stopped at a crossing and waited for a walk sign.
"So what are you lot gonna be doing while I'm flying back?"
"We're discussing various options," Bobby said. "I’ve given the Institute all the details we’ve got so far. Hopefully they’ll come back with solid info in a few hours and we'll be able to start making some decisions."