‘Then what would you suggest?’ White shouted, frustrated by the lack of progress.
‘We follow each of the lines of enquiry. We build a proper case. We use the files on the laptop to steer us in the right direction. If Partridge has copies of these statements and letters, then she must have got them from somewhere. We need to build a bona fide case locking in all the major players. These people can afford the best legal minds in the country. They’d have a field day with what we have on the table.’
‘With all due respect,’ Dylan interrupted, ‘you don’t have that kind of time. You saw what they did to discredit me today, just think what they’ll be prepared to do to shut down this little operation? They grow stronger every day. This doesn’t just affect you. The Cadre’s reach is global. I have every reason to believe that they are actively influencing the presidential election in the States. Aaron Cross has intelligence confirming that they are planning to launch a war on the Middle East. What you’ve got here is only a tiny piece of the pie. I’m telling you, if you don’t act soon, it’ll be too late for all of us!’
‘I’ve got an idea, Ma’am,’ Kyle said, closing the lid of the laptop. ‘What if we invite her here? It’s less formal than the police station, so she might be more willing to open up. We tell her what we know, rather than what we can prove, and offer her the chance to come clean.’
‘Out of the question!’ Mercure barked. ‘We’re painting targets on our backs by simply discussing this. You want to bring her here and point a giant spotlight at what we’re doing too? This is my home. I can’t have anything jeopardising that or my family.’
‘It’s the perfect place,’ White said. ‘In the middle of nowhere. She’ll know by now that her laptop is missing. I’m sure she’ll do anything to get it back before The Chairman finds out. She’ll come. I’m certain of it.’
‘I’ve given my opinion on it,’ Mercure said, shaking her head.
‘Please, Ma’am,’ Kyle said. ‘She cost you your job and pension. It’s the only way we can bring her and them to justice for what they did. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to target you or your family here. Besides, we’ll be on hand to ensure nothing untoward happens.’
Mercure stood up and collected together the empty mugs. ‘I need to sleep on it,’ she said sternly. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like it if you all left now, before Walter returns home. I will phone you in the morning, when I have made my mind up.’
White was about to speak when he saw Kyle glaring at him. He closed his mouth and followed his partner and Dylan to the door.
‘Do you think she’ll go for it?’ Dylan asked when they were outside. ‘She didn’t seem keen.’
‘She knows it’s the right course of action,’ Kyle nodded. ‘I’m sure she’ll come round to it. Can we give you a lift anywhere?’
‘Do you know of any hotels that offer free rooms?’ Dylan said. ‘I’m a bit short at the moment.’
‘You can kip on the sofa bed in my room, man,’ White said. It was a statement rather than an offer.
‘Okay,’ Kyle said, glancing down at his phone as it vibrated with yet another message from Kate. ‘I’ll drop you two at the hotel on my way.’
‘You not coming for a pint tonight?’ White asked when they were all seated in the car.
‘Not tonight, Guv,’ Kyle said, as he eagerly typed a message into his phone. ‘There’s something I need to take care of.’
‘I wish that wife of yours would let you off the leash occasionally,’ White said, lighting a cigarette. ‘She’s got you under the thumb, man.’
Kyle didn’t reply as he began typing a second message, this one to his wife. It read: Boss is making us work through the night. Won’t be back until tomorrow x.
38
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
20:00 (P.S.T.)
The Beverly Wilshire Hotel is located along Wilshire Boulevard on the east side of South Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, California. It is a historic landmark dating back to the twenties and has been a popular retreat for numerous actors, singers and socialites since its inception. It has been used as a set for numerous television shows and movies, most notably Pretty Woman. In addition to that, it has been the hotel of choice for Presidents visiting the city. No person had yet to register a vote for Joseph D’Angelo in the imminent elections, however, his decision to use the hotel as his California campaign headquarters showed just how confident he was of being inaugurated. Maybe too confident.
It had taken the best part of seven hours for Aaron and Cruz to drive the van they’d bought, from one of Victoria’s associates, to Beverly Hills. The cousins had taken it in turns to drive, whilst the other had scanned the road for patrol vehicles. Victoria had told them that their passports would not be ready until the following morning, and they had come close to reconsidering the decision to intercept Browning at the hotel.
In the end, Aaron had won the argument. ‘If we wait until tomorrow, he will have moved on and then we’ll be playing catch up. If Dylan’s right, then they already know we’re here. We’d do better to keep moving. The last thing they’d expect is for us to make a move on one of their own.’
Victoria had suggested she remain behind, allowing her to pressure her contact for the passports. She told them she would fly to LAX first thing and meet up with them. Aaron had asked her to pick him up a list of tools that they would require at the hotel and she had managed to supply everything he had asked for. He’d just sent her a message to confirm they’d arrived.
Sitting in the back of the van, Cruz was now starting to have doubts about their plan. ‘Security inside the hotel is likely to be pretty full-on,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how you think we’re going to get anywhere near Browning’s room.’
‘People have to go to bed at some time, Felix. We’ll make our move then.’
‘But we don’t even know which room he’s in, or whether he’ll have security at the door.’
‘Which is why I want you to go inside and check it out. Think of it as recon. You need to see what kind of security is around, and try and get a look at the hotel’s guest list.’
‘Are you serious? They probably won’t even let me through the front door.’
‘That won’t be a problem,’ Aaron said, a grin spreading across his face.
Aaron had driven them along Wilshire Boulevard, with the hotel in view to their left. Immediately after the hotel, he had spotted an alleyway that bent around behind the hotel. He had driven down the alleyway and had pulled the van over in a small car park, reserved for hotel staff and vendors.
‘What if someone spots the van and calls the police?’ Cruz persisted, the tremors in his voice all too evident.
‘Relax, Felix. The van used to belong to a catering company. If anybody notices the van, they’ll assume the company is making a delivery.’
‘That still doesn’t explain how you expect me to get inside the hotel.’
‘Back up the alley, there’s an entrance for workers to use.’
‘I saw it as we drove past too. It was closed.’
‘Was closed, Felix. Look again.’
Cruz moved to the front of the van and peered through the seats so he could look out of Aaron’s window. At the far end of the alleyway, the large brown door was now being held open by a man dressed in white kitchen overalls, who was smoking a cigarette.
‘You reckon he’s going to hold the door open and just let me in?’
‘I’m banking on it,’ Aaron said. ‘There’s a white jumpsuit in that box behind you. Put it on under your coat and go towards him. Use some of that natural Cross charm and you’ll be in.’
Cruz began to change into the jumpsuit, but continued to argue as he did. ‘I don’t know what to say to him. You’d be better doing this. In fact what are you going to be doing whilst I’m inside the hotel?’
‘Pass me the bag of goodies Victoria supplied, will you?’ Aaron grinned again. ‘Put this in your ear,’ he said, passing over a small ear piece. ‘It�
�s a low frequency radio transmitter that will allow us to communicate with one another.’ He waited for Cruz to put his jacket on before attaching a small badge to the front of it. ‘This camera will send low resolution images back to my laptop every two seconds. It’s not as good as a live video feed but it should be good enough. I will tell you what to say to the smoker by the door and, once inside, you’ll need to make your way towards the reception desk. I need you to get within a yard of one of the hotel’s computers. This lighter contains a digital magnet, which is capable of reading and transmitting what is on the server. So long as you are close enough, I should be able to read everything they can.’
Cruz pocketed the lighter and furrowed his brow. ‘How do you know about all this stuff?’
‘I also worked in naval intelligence before I specialised in disarming I.E.D.s. You’ll be fine Felix. They aren’t looking for you yet, so you should pass unnoticed. If I walked in there, I’d probably set alarm bells ringing. All you’re doing is basic recon.’
Cruz nodded and slipped quietly out of the back of the van and made his way quickly up the alley. He reached the door just as the smoker was crushing the butt under foot. Aaron watched the first images appear on the laptop.
‘His name’s Santiago; it says it on his name badge. Talk to him in Spanish; act like you know each other…tell him you’re late for your shift…that’s it…tell him you owe him a drink…good, you’re in. Now make your way towards the reception area. The range on the camera isn’t great so try and turn as you walk so we can see how much security is around. There’s bound to be undercover agents floating about too, so keep your eyes peeled. You’re doing great Felix.’
Aaron continued to watch the images as they appeared on the screen. From what he could tell there was a five second lag on what was being transmitted. The software he was using was saving the images sequentially so that they could review them when Cruz returned.
Cruz made his way along a narrow, carpeted hallway. At the end of the corridor was a thick fire door, propped open by a fire extinguisher. Once through the doorway, he found himself in a high-ceilinged bright lobby, with crystal chandeliers hanging above his head. In the centre of the open space was a round table topped with vases of flowers. Four large stone pillars formed a circumference around the table, several feet back and, beyond them, were two oak-panelled counters. The one to the right had a large ‘Guest Relations’ sign stencilled above it, whilst the other was marked as ‘Reception’. He casually approached the reception desk.
‘Good evening, sir, welcome to the Beverly Wilshire. How can I help you today?’ the bubbly blonde behind the desk asked. Cruz remained silent, awaiting Aaron’s instructions.
‘Uh,’ Aaron stuttered as he waited for the images to filter through. ‘Jabber in Spanish. It doesn’t matter what you say, just say it very quickly.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the girl said, frowning. ‘No hablo español.’ She held her hand up, spreading her fingers. ‘I’ll find someone who can help you. Just wait here.’ The girl stepped away from the desk and moved off to the right.
‘That’s great,’ Aaron said. ‘Get the lighter out and place it on the desk…get it as close to the computer as you can without making it too obvious…you need to leave it there for two minutes…I’ll tell you when you can pick it up again. Relax, Felix, you’re doing really well.’ Aaron began to run the second piece of software on the laptop, remotely triggering the lighter to start hacking the computer.
‘Someone’s coming,’ Cruz whispered.
‘One more minute,’ Aaron replied.
The girl returned to her position behind the desk and introduced an older man, with a thin face and thinning grey hair. He was wearing the hotel’s suited uniform. If he spoke Spanish, it clearly wasn’t his natural language. He began speaking to Cruz in slow, grammatical Spanish.
‘I need another thirty seconds,’ Aaron said through the ear piece. ‘Ask him why it’s so busy today…just keep him talking.’
Cruz spoke quickly; the old man struggled to keep up.
‘That’s it!’ Aaron said gleefully. ‘I’ve got what we need. Make your excuses and grab the lighter. Get yourself back here.’
Cruz picked up the lighter, told the old man he was in the wrong hotel and followed the sign for the restrooms. Once inside a cubicle, and satisfied that the room was empty he began to speak to Aaron. ‘Did you hear what the old man said?’
‘What? No, I wasn’t listening. Why are you in the toilets? Get back here and we can talk.’
‘He said that D’Angelo is delivering a campaign speech right now. It’s an all-ticket dinner, dance and talk. He’s on stage as we speak.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s the only reason they’re here. They aren’t staying the night, Aaron. Once the dinner is done, they’ll be gone!’
Aaron ran a query on the hotel’s records and was disappointed to see that Cruz was right. ‘Shit!’
‘We’ve come all this way for nothing. Unless…’
‘Unless what, Felix?’
‘Browning is bound to be with D’Angelo, right? What if we try and grab him before they leave?’
‘You want to try and abduct him? And to think you said I was crazy!’
‘What’s the difference? We were going to make a move on him in his room anyway, we’ll just intercept him sooner.’
‘No, Felix. It’s too dangerous. Get back to the van and we’ll think of something else.’
Cruz cursed in Spanish, and left the bathroom as he had been instructed, but, instead of turning right and returning to the lobby, he turned left and headed towards the restaurants. Aaron didn’t notice, until he saw two private security guards flanking two closed doors.
‘Sorry, sir, this is a private function,’ one of the guards said.
‘Is that where Senator D’Angelo is speaking?’ Cruz asked.
‘As I said, sir, this is a private function,’ the guard said. ‘Please move along.’
‘I only want to have a look inside. Come on, please?’
The guard began to step forward, as if he was planning to forcibly remove him from the building, when a sudden commotion behind the doors caught his attention. The guard moved his hand up to his own ear piece as he strained to hear what was being shouted into his ear. ‘Gun shots,’ he shouted to his colleague, before pulling the doors open and heading inside, weapon out and ready to fire.
39
FIVE MINUTES EARLIER
The hotel boasts fine dining experiences at each of its restaurant facilities. Whether you are the casual diner, looking for a light beer and a burger, or your tastes are more extravagant, there is something for everybody. Except for tonight of course. Tonight was different, because the largest of the hotel’s four restaurants had been taken over by two hundred guests who were seated at tables of eight, and spread out across the carpeted suite. To the casual observer, it was a typical wedding banquet in these parts. But to the more eagle-eyed patron, this was no wedding. For inside were gathered only those with expendable income who had paid through the nose for the opportunity to hear and meet presidential candidate Joseph D’Angelo.
Although the dining room was for the primary use of hotel guests, tonight the venue had been hired privately for D’Angelo to share his vision for a better America with potential campaign contributors. These kinds of events were a regular occurrence during campaigns, and the right contribution from the right spectator could mean the difference between winning and losing an election. Not that D’Angelo’s campaign manager, Ronald Browning, had any concerns about that. He knew that the actual amount of money raised for D’Angelo’s campaign was just a drop in the ocean compared to the backing he was receiving from The Cadre group. The Chairman had promised that D’Angelo would win the forthcoming election, regardless of how much he raised in contributions, and despite however well the Republican campaign was run.
For appearances’ sake, D’Angelo couldn’t know that his seat at The Oval Office was guarante
ed. For the campaign to be a success, it had to look like he was fighting for his life. Browning actually enjoyed the thought that he was keeping such a big secret from someone who would one day be so powerful. Browning had to hand it to D’Angelo, he really did know how to work a room. During the starters, D’Angelo had made an effort to wander from table to table to say hello to his guests, pausing for the occasional photograph and sharing anecdotes from The Hill. During the main course, he had spoken at length to the guests at his own table, who had been carefully selected by Browning for their ability to influence key voting groups in their respective states. Although, Browning was pretty sure the vote was going to be rigged, the ambitious part of him wanted D’Angelo’s campaign to be a success without additional help. He dreamed about The Chairman phoning him to say ‘Congratulations, Browning, your campaign was so good that we didn’t need to fix the voting!’
Following a light and delicious cheesecake for dessert, D’Angelo was welcomed to the small raised platform at the far side of the room, where he began to recite the speech that Browning had carefully written for him. For a former marine from Florida, the sincerity in D’Angelo’s words was OSCAR worthy. Even as Browning listened to his own words being said by someone else, he felt sure he had made the right choice when The Chairman had first approached him. With crippling gambling debts, he’d had no other choice anyway, yet he was proud of how he’d managed to turn things around so well. Here he was, riding the crest of a wave, sitting at the top table as the New World Order beckoned. He hoped that one day, they would write books about the part he had played in the coup. He pictured Brad Pitt playing him, even though the actor was in fact ten years his senior.
As Browning watched each person in the room hanging on D’Angelo’s every word, he felt proud. He knew that the speech would be ending shortly, as D’Angelo had started reciting the final paragraph. He listened, all the time looking at the smiling faces of those seated closest to him, and then D’Angelo’s voice stopped and the room erupted into a resounding applause. One by one, each person stood up as the ovation grew from table to table. Browning stood too and basked in the glory.
Double Cross: A gripping political thriller (The Cadre Book 3) Page 25
