by Ian Jones
‘Thomas, and Abby. Both these pictures were taken in the last two weeks.’
‘Abby is very beautiful. What’s she like? Is it possible she just fancied a change of scenery?’
Richard looked at his sons.
‘Abby is well, Abby. She likes life. She can be a bit … excitable shall we say. Like I told you I admit to spoiling her, and yes, I suppose I have to admit I spoiled them all but she does have everything she ever wanted. She takes the luxury holidays, buys expensive clothes, has the new cars and all that.’
Cromwell sighed loudly, his eyes said it all.
‘She gets what she wants. But this isn’t like her. She is daddy’s little girl John. It may sound trite, but it is true. She likes to travel, but she always wants to come home.’
John looked closely at the pictures. Abby was certainly a looker but Thomas was so ordinary he could have been anyone. He could feel tension in the two men on the sofa so he opted to ask a question to them, looking directly at James.
‘So can you shed any light on this?’
James went to speak but Charles interrupted him.
‘My father made the call to bring you in, I didn’t agree with it. But you’re here now, and you know more than I would have wanted you to, so you may as well know everything. My dad hired Thomas to run things. Company two as he calls it. For years everything is fine. Dad knew Thomas from the old days of the business, he always walked a fine line and Dad let him run it his way. Vegas is good for us, well it was anyway. for a while at least. Thomas spent a lot of time there, he seemed to be doing a great job, cultivating it. The commercials with precious stones suited Francesco and his partners very well. Then, as you’ve heard, in comes Pablo, literally out of the blue. Francesco has disappeared completely. Thomas goes over to Las Vegas to make sure there are no problems and the rest is history. Pablo starts buying more than ever, and it takes time before we realise because we have been dealing with them for so long, but we aren’t seeing any of the cash which Thomas tells us he is dealing with but really hides everything very well. And now we know that meantime he’s all over Abby making promises and once there are enough zeros he contacts Abby and off she goes to be with him.’
John nodded and looked at James.
‘What about you?’
‘Abby never said anything to me, nothing about Thomas, nothing about Vegas, nothing about any of it. And we are really close. She went there a couple of times, with her friends, holidays, whatever, just a few days here and there, she did say she enjoyed it. But never for business. Never. Dad and I are really worried about her.’ He looked quickly at Charles. ‘Well, we all are. This doesn’t make any sense, we just want her back.’
‘So she said nothing to any of you at all about leaving?’
Again, Charles looked at his father.
‘No,’ he confirmed.
‘That’s not strictly true,’ Richard said slowly. ‘She wanted to go back to Vegas, she had been talking about it for some time, she wanted another girl’s holiday there and wanted to explore the place properly. She said she liked the idea of having an apartment there, make it a regular thing. So she said anyway. But I was already having these issues with Pablo, so I asked her not to go. We argued, but this time I wasn’t backing down, giving in to her which I normally did. I didn’t want her there while we were having these problems. She wasn’t happy about it but didn’t raise the subject again. Not to me anyway.’
He looked over at Charles, who shrugged. James looked more uncomfortable, it was obvious his distress was genuine, as was Richard’s.
‘Have you ever been to Vegas John?’ asked Charles with a smile.
‘No, never.’
‘Travelled much?’ James wanted to know.
‘Travelled? Yes, I have travelled a lot. But never to Vegas.’
‘Really? I wonder why that would be. It’s the city of dreams, so they say.’
John looked directly at him.
‘Yeah, so they say. I’ve heard a lot of stories. But no, I’ve never been, I’ve never thought about it if I’m honest, I lead a busy life.’
‘So what, are you ex-military, or something?’ Charles demanded challengingly.
Becoming bored of Charles John ignored the question and turned back to Richard.
‘Tell me, what exactly is it you want me to do?’
‘We have no idea where she is, other than we understand she is in Las Vegas. The email and photos from Pablo confirmed it, at least recently anyway. But I have to admit, we are not even totally sure about this. But in my heart, I believe she is still alive. I know it. And she is my daughter, I love her dearly. So please, find her, and bring her home.’
‘Ok. And what about the money? It’s a lot.’
‘Yes, it is a lot, but I’m not interested in it particularly, although I don’t see why Pablo should have it I suppose. So, if there is any way you can claim it then great, if not then so what. Genuinely, I don’t care. Abby is all that’s important. Bring her back.’
‘I get it. What about Thomas?’
‘He can rot there. He’s dead to me. John, can you get this done?’
John stood up and stretched gently. ‘I can’t see any reason why not. I’ll keep these photos, if that’s OK with you.’
‘By all means.’
‘I think I know where to start, as I’m sure you do. What is Pablo’s full name, do you have his address, any other details?’
‘It’s Pablo Escola, and no, we don’t know his address, only the hotel,’ Charles told him abruptly.
‘I’m sure you’re aware, but it’s likely that this Pablo is involved, you do understand that?’ John spoke gently.
Richard sighed and looked even more crestfallen.
‘Yes, that is what I believe. Charles says not, but it’s all I can see.’
John looked at Charles quizzically, but he looked away. Something not right there.
‘I’ll do what I can Richard.’
‘How long do you think it will take?’
‘Give me say one week, maybe ten days. Should be enough. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving.’
‘When can you start?’
‘As soon as I have booked a flight.’
‘We will sort that out,’ Charles told him standing up. ‘We’ll get you a suite at the Bellagio.’
John shook his head. ‘No, thank you for the flight, but I’ll sort out somewhere to stay myself.’
‘You need to go online, register for the visa.’
‘It’s no problem, I was in New York last month.’
Richard stood up and walked round the desk. It was not yet afternoon but outside had grown very dark, and rain started to fall heavily. Richard grabbed John’s hand.
‘Thank you. We have never met before but I think we are in good hands.’
Out of the corner of his eye John saw Charles roll his eyes. He let it slide.
‘This is what I do, if she is alive I’ll find her, however long it takes. In this instance I’m optimistic it shouldn’t be too long. I will call and update you.’
‘That’s great, and thank you very much. Bruno?’
Bruno rose out of his chair and produced a thick envelope, which he passed to Richard who handed it over to John.
‘This is seventy five percent, up front. Once Abby is back I will give you the balance, plus a bonus if you do happen to recover any of the money.’
‘Good. Right, well let me know about the flight, you have my number.’
Richard nodded. As John turned to leave Charles stopped him looking at him incredulously.
‘Mr Smith, I hate to be the one to spoil the party but do you understand what you’re getting into?’
John looked at him carefully, ice cold eyes staring the other man down. Smug Charles was a person he could happily punch in the face.
‘Yes Charles, I think so.’
‘I don’t think you do. Pablo Escola is a name over in Vegas, a big man. He’s into everything, drugs, guns, girls, the whole lot
. He fronts it with his hotel there. Look, my father has never met him but I did. I went out there in the beginning with Thomas. I’ve seen his operation first hand. He’s got a small army out there. I’m telling you this because if you don’t do this properly it will be over before it starts as soon as you set foot in the place. Thomas works for Pablo now, and he is not going to throw his arms open in welcome.’
John looked out at the rain falling. He was going to get soaked getting back to his car.
‘Right Charles, I’ll bear it in mind. What’s his hotel called?’
‘What? It’s called the Acropolis. But avoiding it won’t help you.’
‘Who said anything about avoiding it?’
John had heard enough. He made a show of shaking Charles and James’ hands and nodded to Bruno who opened the door and let him out. The Chinese lady appeared out of nowhere and led him to the front door. John looked up at the sky and walked briskly back to his car. As he expected, he got soaked.
Chapter Two
John had a flat in St Johns Wood, which he rarely used these days other than the odd night here and there. But it was convenient and held everything he would need for Vegas so he made his way back into London. He parked up in the underground car park and had lunch in an Italian restaurant just round the corner. As he was finishing the meal his phone rang. It was Charles telling him he was booked on a flight tomorrow morning. British Airways, first class. John scribbled the details onto a napkin and hung up the phone, then headed to a nearby bank and changed up a thousand into dollars.
Charles put the phone down and looked at his father and then his brother. They were sitting round the dining table having eaten lunch, which had not been as morose as previous days.
‘Right well that’s that. For now. He’s getting on the plane. Apparently, anyway.’
Richard nodded, relief written all over him.
‘Good. At last, we’re doing something. Hopefully soon Abby will be home and this will all be over.’
Charles snorted.
‘I don’t agree with you dad. You saw him for yourself. He’s nothing. They will make mincemeat out of him over there.’
‘Charles, for whatever reason you have been against this from the start. Think what you like, but I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t either,’ James piped up.
Charles looked at him surprised.
‘What the hell do you know about it?’
‘No, you tell me Charles, what do you know?’ Richard asked angrily.
Charles sat back grinning.
‘I’m telling you. I know people. Serious people. And he’s not one, he’s no killer.’
‘Killer? Why a killer? Why would you say that? Where on earth did that come from? And tell me Charles, what exactly does a killer look like?’ asked Richard.
‘Well, not like him. I mean we’ve paid him all that money for what? A holiday in Las Vegas, that’s what. If he does run into any of Pablo’s men he’ll run a mile. He’ll disappear with his tail between his legs and probably be back hiding out over here in a couple of days, then just give us some old tosh about how he can’t find her.’
‘As I said, I don’t think so.’
‘OK. So what do you think his story is?
‘I think he was in the SAS,’ said James earnestly.
Charles snorted again.
‘No way, that is crap. He is nobody. A chancer who got very lucky this time.’
‘Charles, have you ever met anybody who served in the SAS?’ asked Richard politely.
‘Well, no but …’
‘I have. I’ve met several. And they aren’t big men. They’re not huge, muscle bound or loud, or carrying an arsenal of hidden weapons.’
‘So?’
‘So, they are like him. They are exactly like John Smith.’
John expertly packed a bag, picked up his laptop and left the flat. He decided to stay at a hotel near Heathrow overnight so he travelled out there nice and anonymously by tube, booking a hotel online on his phone while he was above ground. Once he arrived he checked in and went straight up to his room, looking over everything carefully as he always did on entry, but it was a box standard airport hotel room, like millions of others all over the world.
Satisfied, he sat on the bed and sent a short text message, then searched for the Acropolis on the Internet, noting its location. South of the strip, down there among a positive who’s who of famous hotels.
A few minutes later his mobile rang ‘No Caller ID’ displayed. He smiled and answered it.
‘Hello’
‘Hello John’
‘I need information, plus something arranged.’
‘Of course. Usual fees OK?’
‘No problem.’
‘Fire away, what do you need?’
‘I need all you can find on one Pablo Escola, plus his father Francesco. Las Vegas and area I believe.’
‘Yes, we can do that. And?
‘Just see if Richard, Charles or James Cromwell have a record if you can. Residents of Oxshott.’
‘OK. Anything else?’
‘Can you book me in to say, ten hotels around the strip in Vegas? All at the southern end. Say I’ll be staying for one week from tomorrow, use my name for them and I need to be booked into the Acropolis. Make sure that reservation is in John Smith. And finally, I need a room somewhere overlooking that hotel, but use another name for that one, Jurgen will work I think.’
‘Sure.’
The hotels would not be booked through the usual channels, they would just appear on their computers. Fully paid for. All John had to do was check in.
John gave the hotel he was staying in and the room number and hung up. He went to the window and looked out. None of the buildings close to the airport were particularly high, he was four floors up right at the top. Outside the rain was still falling, everywhere around looked flat and grey as if all the colour had been washed out. He sat down again and opened the laptop looking at an area map of Las Vegas. He had been truthful; Las Vegas was a place he had never been to, had never really considered, and it had a rich history, a city of legends, the scene of countless movies and stories.
But it was just a city.
John closed the laptop and lay down on the bed and shut his eyes. Sleep when you can; he was a firm believer.
Three hours later there was a tap at the door. John stood up and checked his watch. Just gone six. He opened up and was handed a package by a bellhop grinning inanely hoping for a tip, which was ignored as John shut the door on him.
He went into the bathroom and cleaned his teeth, and then returned to the bed and opened the package, which was a lot slimmer than he was expecting.
There really wasn’t a lot to go through. Francesco Escola born in Cuba in 1949. Immigrated successfully into the USA in 1970 after marrying a wealthy Texan girl he met in Mexico. Occupation then listed as an entrepreneur and financier. Invested well into a hotel group and moved to Las Vegas in 1979 and lived there ever since. Has two sons, Eduardo his first born in 1971 and Pablo in 1973. Eduardo no record and now owned an electronics assembly plant in L.A. Pablo had a long string of misdemeanours, mostly minor from 1988 to 1993, felony assault and drug possession. Then it stepped up: rape, battery and attempted rape from 1994 onwards; several counts. Copies of the charge sheets were attached. Pablo had been hosting private parties at the Stratosphere hotel. The police had been called out on several occasions, and then in 1999 a girl of seventeen was found wandering along the north end of the strip, beaten and bleeding. She had been raped, and identified Pablo Escola. As the police investigated another woman came forward, and then another. Pablo was arrested, bang to rights. He was in the cells less than four hours. All statements had been retracted, all charges were dropped.
Then nothing, no charges, no arrests, everything all clear, for many years. In 2007 the Acropolis opened up. It cost a reputed $350m and was operated by a company called See Thru Inc. CEO; Pablo Escola, but Francesco was the real power behind
it. Then, in early 2010, a girl was found raped and murdered in a parking lot behind some shops just off the strip. She was identified as Maria Rattalla, 21, a waitress at the Acropolis. There were photographs of Maria before and after. She was a beautiful girl. Las Vegas PD investigated but found nothing. By the end of the year the case was confined to the unsolved list. But Maria’s father was a somebody; he was a well-connected senator from Colorado and he demanded answers. It took over a year but the FBI descended and very soon discovered that there were numerous other similar cases on the Las Vegas PD books, all unsolved. They went back a few years, increased the manpower, found a connection and then raided the Acropolis. They found drugs, unlicensed firearms and a lot of cash, which couldn’t be accounted for, even for a casino. Pablo Escola was arrested, along with two other men. The following morning Francesco Escola turned up at the police station, and admitted owning the drugs, the guns and the money. He also told the FBI he had murdered seven women in the last four years.
Pablo Escola walked free an hour later. Francesco Escola is now on death row.
There were no other entries.
There was a list of hotels in Las Vegas, with reservations in two different names. John always carried a rudimentary disguise, plus separate ID.
Finally there was a single sheet on the Cromwell’s. Nothing at all on Richard, not a hint of any illegal activity despite his admission regarding Company Two. A three month ban for speeding for James from two years ago. Charles had been arrested for cannabis possession during his university years, no details given other than a fine, and nothing since.
John looked at the photographs of Pablo Escola. There was a standard police mug shot 1999, and another from 2011, suntanned face staring dully out at the camera under a mop of greying curls. There was also a photo of him standing proudly on the steps of the Acropolis surrounded by a group of men. He put the group photo into his bag, and then opened the window, first fiddling with the lock to allow it to open normally. He put all the other sheets and the envelope into the bin and set fire to them with the bin held awkwardly outside, sheltered from the rain by the roof eaves. When everything was gone he rinsed the bin out in the bathroom and went out for a run, pounding hard around the airport in the rain. Then back in his room for another shower and downstairs for dinner.
