“I don’t know. If it was here, someone followed us. Were you watching out again?”
“Always. I’m always watching out.” Joe put his finger to his lips as the paramedics burst through the bathroom door.
Hailey told them as much as she knew about Ayala’s condition, and they took over.
An hour later, Hailey collected her keys from the valet and Joe held out his hand.
“I think I’ve completely sobered up by now, Joe.”
“If you’re sure. It might be better if you drive, anyway.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you know how to get to the Pacific Rim Hotel.”
She curled her hand around her keys until they bit into her flesh. “You want to look for Marten’s room now?”
“I think it’s past time. These people are getting bold...or desperate, and we need to put a stop to them.” He opened the driver’s-side door for her and she slid onto the seat.
She didn’t even need the seat warmers. Joe’s presence made her feel warm and secure, but she wanted to match his decisiveness. She couldn’t depend on him forever.
“I’m going to call Agent Porter tomorrow and tell him what happened to Ayala.”
“We don’t know what happened to her yet.”
“Just another attack on one of the kidnap victims in Syria. They have to pay attention now. They have to take it seriously—Marten, Andrew, me and now Ayala. How much more proof do they need?”
“They need actual proof, not suspicions and supposition—Marten’s body never turned up and nobody has reported him missing, we haven’t heard anything back about Andrew, and we don’t have the video. The attack on you could’ve been a wayward driver, and if Ayala was poisoned... I guess we’ll see.”
“Yeah, details, details.” She swung out of the hotel’s parking lot. “Let’s see if Marten’s room can offer us any proof.”
The Pacific Rim was a hop and skip from the restaurant, but a car couldn’t hop and skip through the San Francisco traffic. On the way over, Hailey tossed her phone into Joe’s lap. “Can you please call the hospital where they took Ayala? It’s San Francisco General.”
Joe got the number from information, which then connected him to the hospital. He kept the phone and asked about Ayala.
“We’re the ones who were with her. She’s visiting from Florida. She doesn’t have family here.” He rolled his eyes at Hailey. “I’m on hold.”
“Mention my father’s name.”
“What?”
“He raises a ton of money for that hospital.”
Joe pressed his lips into a thin line, and Hailey’s eyelid twitched. She sounded as bad as her father on one of his worst days—throwing around his weight and money. But this was for a good cause.
“I understand. Just a minute, please.” He held out the phone to Hailey. “You’re the expert. I wouldn’t even know how to begin using that leverage.”
Hailey swallowed and took the phone from him. “Yes, hello. This is Hailey Duvall. My father, Ray Duvall, helped fund the burn unit there at the hospital. Ayala Khan is my friend. She was visiting me and we were out to dinner when she became ill. I’d appreciate any information you could give me about her condition.”
In her haste to give Hailey whatever she wanted, the nurse sputtered and stammered but was able to communicate that Ayala was doing well, had regained consciousness and would be ready to receive visitors tomorrow morning.
“Thank you so much. What’s your name?”
“Shailene Franklin.”
“Thanks, Shailene. I’ll make sure to tell my father what great employees work at San Fran Gen the next time he meets with Mr. Sharpe, the director of operations.”
Hailey ended the call and dropped her phone in the cup holder, ignoring Joe’s gaze burning into the side of her face like a laser.
After several seconds, Joe cleared his throat. “Wow, so that’s how it’s done.”
Hailey was thankful for the darkness of the car’s interior, which hid the warm blush on her cheeks. “I learned from the best.”
“You keep saying that, and yet you seem to scorn the best, as you call your father.”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What are you saying, Joe?”
He flashed his palm at her. “Look, I’m not criticizing you for using your father’s name and influence to get what you want.”
“Need.”
“What?”
“To get what I need, not what I want.”
“Okay, okay. I’d do the same. Anyone would, but you seem to heap scorn on your father for supplying you with the means to use his influence and money. It’s kinda...”
“Hypocritical?”
His hand inched over to her thigh, and he skimmed his knuckles across the denim of her jeans. “You know what? You can just ignore me and my stupid judgments. I’m probably just jealous that the only string my pop could pull for me was for a free brewski at the corner tavern.”
His apology felt as warm as his hand on her knee—heartfelt, sincere. Apologies flowed from his lips freely, as if he were accustomed to making them. What would Joe McVie have to apologize for in his life? Seemed as if he’d soldiered through a rough childhood and then made his way onto an elite military unit. He had loyalty and protectiveness—and muscles—to spare. He had no reason to be apologetic about anything, especially criticizing a spoiled rich girl.
She shrugged her shoulders with a quick lift and drop. “You don’t have to apologize for expressing your honest opinion, but you can bask in the knowledge that you’re running with someone with some different connections from your father—although you should never knock a free brewski.”
He squeezed her knee before releasing it. “How’d you get to be such a guy’s girl?”
“I’ll give credit to my father for that, too. He raised me to take over his business.”
“Not your brother?”
“I’m older.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “And more responsible. Dad groomed me to handle the family business, until...”
“Until what?”
“There’s the hotel. I’m going to swing around for the valet.”
Joe whistled through his teeth. “Nice. How the hell did Marten afford this, and why would he want to stay in that hovel with Joost when he had a room waiting for him here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just to leave him that rusty old key to give me.” She pulled up to the curb and stepped out when the attendant opened her door.
“Good evening, Ms. Duvall.”
She peered at the valet’s name tag. “Hello, Henry. How are you doing tonight?”
“Just fine, ma’am. I’ll take good care of your car.”
“You’d better.” She winked at him. “It’s my father’s.”
Joe placed a hand on her back and steered her through the front door. Leaning his head toward hers, he said, “How is this going to go down? Are you just going to tell them you want to get into Marten’s room?”
“Pretty much.” Hailey squared her shoulders and marched up to reception. She may have learned at her father’s knee, but she could never master his full command over any and all situations. Hailey parked herself at the corner of the front desk while two clerks handled guests.
One of them looked up from her keyboard and smiled at Hailey. “I’ll be right with you, miss. If you need the concierge, the desk is behind you, to your left.”
Hailey opened her mouth to respond that she’d wait, but before she uttered one syllable, Timothy Tang, one of the night managers, came bustling from the back.
“Carmen, this is Ms. Duvall.”
Two red spots exploded on Carmen’s cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Duvall.”
Hailey waved her off. “Please. I wanted to speak to Mr. Tang, anyway.”
The manager walked
to the front desk, straightening the collar of his impeccable jacket. “What can I help you with, Ms. Duvall?”
“A friend of mine, Marten de Becker, has a room here but got called away to a business meeting in Sacramento for a day or two. He asked me to get something from his room, and I was wondering if you could let me in.”
Mr. Tang’s eye twitched for just a second, and then he said, “Of course. Let me check Mr. de Becker’s room number.”
“Thank you so much.”
As Mr. Tang tapped on the keyboard, he asked, “Is everything going as planned for the gala? Gretchen has been working mostly with Josie, the event planner, but I’ve had an opportunity to make a few small contributions.”
“Gretchen is really happy with how everything is working out.” Hailey shot a glance at Joe, who was tapping his toe, arms crossed.
He said he wasn’t going to judge.
“How do you like being night manager, Mr. Tang? Are you interested in event planning?”
“Oh.” Mr. Tang met her gaze over the top of the monitor. “Josie is quite good at what she does, although I do like to chime in here and there—and I think she appreciates it.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“Seventh floor, room 728. That’s Mr. de Becker’s room.” Mr. Tang slid a key card across the counter, his hand covering it until the last minute when Hailey snatched it up. “You can just drop the key off in any key receptacle on your way out, Ms. Duvall.”
“I will do that. Thanks again, and I look forward to seeing you in a few nights.”
Mr. Tang nodded quickly and then turned on his heel and disappeared into the back.
Turning toward Joe, Hailey plunged her hands in the pockets of her jacket, her fingers tracing the edges of the key card. “That wasn’t bad.”
Joe clapped his hands slowly three times as they veered toward the bank of elevators. “I’m in awe. I can’t imagine your father, or anyone else, doing it better.”
She snorted. “My father would have Mr. Tang thinking it was his idea and thanking him for the pleasure of serving him.”
“You weren’t too far off the mark.” Joe thumbed the call button for the elevator. He ushered her in first when the doors opened. “Do all the employees have pictures of your family taped to their computer screens or something? They’re all supposed to recognize you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past my father to require that, but I don’t care.” She tugged on his sleeve. “You believe that, right? I don’t care about that stuff.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t be running off to war-torn countries like Syria.”
Hailey let out a little puff of breath. “My brother, on the other hand.”
“Likes the perks, does he?”
“Revels in them. At first he just reveled in the money—drugs, booze, parties, women. Then when he realized that I had fallen out of favor with Dad, he began to clean up his act to suck up to him. Now he’s his lapdog.”
“How did you fall out of favor with your father?”
“Oh, this and that.” She flicked her fingers.
Joe quirked one eyebrow. “So, your brother’s in line to take over the family’s holdings now?”
“Some, not all. Our father still doesn’t trust him.”
“Like he still trusts you.”
“Sort of.”
The elevator pinged and settled on the seventh floor. The thick carpet swallowed their footsteps as they made their way along the hallway to Marten’s room.
When they reached his door, Hailey stuck the card in the slot and slid it out again. The green lights signaled entry, and Joe pushed open the door.
Entering the dark room on tiptoes, Hailey crossed her arms over her chest. She whispered, “Marten?”
Joe stabbed at the light switch on the wall by the door, and two lamps lit up the recesses of the big room.
Hailey scanned the area, nodding toward a suitcase in the corner. “His stuff. No wonder he didn’t bring anything to Joost’s place. He had it all here.”
“Except for the key.”
A chill skittered down her spine and Hailey made a half turn toward the door. “Lock it.”
Joe flipped the latch at the top of the door to block entry from the outside.
Hailey pulled Marten’s key from her purse. “Could it be a luggage lock?”
“I think it’s too big, but give it a try.” Joe made a move before she could and crossed the room to hoist Marten’s single suitcase onto the king-size bed. He grabbed the zipper and pulled it across. “His bag isn’t locked and doesn’t even have a lock on it.”
Hailey squeezed past him and flicked on the lights over the bed. “Maybe whatever this key unlocks is inside the suitcase.”
“Maybe.” Joe plunged his hands inside the suitcase, burying them in Marten’s clothes.
Hailey reached past him and grabbed a fistful of shirts. “I don’t think we have to worry about disturbing his things.”
They pawed through the contents of Marten’s suitcase, spreading shirts and pants across the bed.
Joe patted the outside pockets of the bag. “We’re probably not going to find anything in his clothes.”
Hailey let Joe search the zippered side pockets while she surveyed the room, hands on her hips. “Where’s his laptop? I’m pretty sure Marten never went anywhere without it.”
“Is there a safe?”
Hailey crossed to the cabinet beneath the TV. “It’s in here.”
Crouching in front of the cabinet, she threw open the doors. The safe gaped open, completely empty. “That’s weird. Nothing in the safe—no passport, no money, no laptop.”
Joe knelt beside her with socks clutched in his hands. “Nothing in those side pockets, either, except these.”
“Bathroom?” She bumped Joe’s solid shoulder with her own.
He rose to his feet, extending a hand for her. She took it and he helped her to her feet. He didn’t let go as he led her to the bathroom—and she didn’t want him to.
The housekeeping staff had cleaned up since Marten’s last day in the room. Clean towels towered on a rack, and fresh bottles of hotel toiletries lined the vanity.
“You’d think housekeeping would be curious as to the guest’s whereabouts.”
“As long as his departure date hasn’t come and gone, I don’t think they care or pay attention.” She grabbed the handle of the bathroom door and pulled the door forward.
Marten’s toiletry bag banged against the door.
Joe snatched it off the hook and dumped the contents on the counter of the sink.
The usual suspects rolled and spilled from the bag—shaving cream, razor, comb, condoms.
Hailey pinched a foil pack between her fingers. “Typical Marten. Wouldn’t leave home without a stash of condoms.”
“At least he played it safe in some areas of his life.”
Hailey sank to the edge of the tub. “There’s nothing here. Nothing. Why did he want me to have that key? How am I supposed to figure out what it matches?”
“Come on. Let’s get his clothes back in the suitcase.” Joe shoveled Marten’s toiletries into the bag and hung it back on the hook on the door.
Placing her palms against the cool porcelain of the tub, Hailey pushed up. “I’m disappointed. I was so proud of myself that I got us in here, and it all came to nothing.”
“We didn’t check all the drawers in the room. Maybe he stayed at this hotel because he knew you could get in here, and he left a note for you.” Joe backed out of the bathroom.
“Why didn’t he just leave a note with the key? Better yet, just leave me a note telling me what he was going to reveal to me on the ferry?”
“All of that would be too easy for someone else to find. He’s obviously protecting this information.” Joe crossed the room to the desk by the window and
yanked open the top drawer.
Hailey placed one knee on the bed and plucked up one of Marten’s shirts. As she folded it, a thump outside the door caused her to clutch the shirt to her chest.
“What was that?”
Joe squinted at her over the top of a piece of hotel stationery. “Maybe just housekeeping.”
Hailey dropped the shirt and tiptoed to the door. Placing one hand against the solid wood, she leaned forward and put her eye to the peephole.
She jerked back, her eyebrows colliding over her nose.
“Someone out there?” Joe crept up behind her.
“I can’t see out the peephole. It’s blocked or something.”
Joe drew up beside her and nudged her over. “Let me have a look.”
He peered through the peephole and immediately reared back, jamming his thumb against the peephole.
Hailey swallowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone replaced the peephole with a camera. We’re being watched.”
Chapter Nine
Hailey staggered back from the door. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” Keeping his finger against the door, Joe reached for the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a knife. “Open this for me.”
With shaky fingers, Hailey pulled out the blade and handed the knife back to Joe. “What are you going to do?”
“Get rid of it.” He slid his thumb from the peephole and held his hand cupped over it instead while he worked the point of the blade around the edge. After several minutes, he dug the device out of the door and closed his fist around it.
Tipping the back of her head against the wall, Hailey asked, “Someone was watching us this whole time?”
“Someone has had their eye on this room for who knows how long. That camera could’ve been there when Marten was still here.”
“And after he...left—” Hailey licked her lips “—they wanted to see who came in here. They must’ve already searched this room. Maybe they took his laptop. Where else would it be? He didn’t leave it at Joost’s place.”
“Hailey, I’d love to stay here in this comfortable room talking to you all night, but we’ve gotta get out of here. The person or persons on the other side of this camera could be on their way right now.”
Delta Force Die Hard Page 10
