by Dan Ames
Understandably, he’d been a bit pissed off when word had come down that since the rest of the team had been killed in the shootout outside the hotel, it was now up to Sino to get rid of the body and retrieve the evidence.
He’d reached a certain level in his profession where “getting one’s hands dirty” was over.
Sino had not forgotten how to do it, though.
He simply went down to the hotel’s laundry room, snagged a cart, brought it back up to the hotel room and dumped the body inside. He covered it in towels to stop any blood seepage that might attract attention.
He’d brought his own Cadillac Escalade around to the back of the hotel where the little loading area was for linens and kitchen supplies. It was empty and the heavy door was unlocked.
He brought the cart back down, rolled it right off the ramp and into the back of the SUV.
From there he drove out into the desert.
So many places to dump a body out here, Sino thought. Plus, he had all-wheel drive with the big SUV even though no one on God’s green earth would consider the Cadillac an off-road vehicle.
Sino was tired and thirsty. He’d forgotten to bring some water which was just plain stupid. You always have water when you go into the desert. The hell with water, Sino thought.
What he really wanted was tequila.
Killing a man always initiated a desire for booze and sex. He would have to pick up a bottle of the good stuff and then find a prostitute back in Vegas as soon as he was done.
And he intended to waste no time in doing so.
He turned off the main road via a dim trail that might have belonged to some kind of park service and as soon as he was hidden from view he parked, opened the back of the SUV and rolled the cart out of the vehicle. It crashed into the dirt and the body partially spilled out.
Sino grabbed the dead man by the ankles and dragged him off the trail to the edge of the ditch and then pushed it with his foot until it rolled down into the gulley.
Sino wished he’d brought something to cover the body but all that was left was the cart and a bunch of blood-stained towels.
Ah, what the hell, he thought. He tossed the towels down on top of the dead man and rolled the cart off to the other side of the trail. Sino closed up the vehicle and drove back to the highway.
His plan was to go back to a bar in town and order the most expensive tequila they had. But his thirst had grown immensely. Just down the road was a shabby little liquor store.
It would have to do until he made it back into Sin City.
Chapter 13
Tallon smiled as the call with Pauling ended.
He never tired of hearing her voice; that wonderful raspiness that sounded like whiskey and cigarettes in a jazz bar.
Tallon wished he’d been able to tell her how long he’d be in Vegas. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how long he‘d be there. It all depended upon what he would find.
For now, it felt good to be back on the road. He wished it were under better circumstances.
As he drove, Tallon thought about Paco. One of the toughest guys he’d ever known. Physically, Paco was ridiculously strong. Few guys could compete with him when it came to deadlifting serious weight.
Fearless under fire, too. Tallon recalled a firefight in Afghanistan when he and Paco were working as private security. This was between the two wars. They’d run into a pocket of foreign fighters and had to shoot their way out. Paco had not only kept his cool, but seemed to enjoy the precariousness of their situation. Tallon had been severely impressed with the man. In an intense firefight there was no man Tallon would rather have next to him than Paco Williams.
So what had happened to him in Vegas?
Tallon subconsciously drove faster and soon the freeway crested a small rise and there before him lay the city of Las Vegas.
From the highway, it didn’t look much like the famous images paraded around the Internet. Tallon was certainly used to a desert climate, but the combination of traffic and brown landscape left him less than enthused. He was nonplussed by it, though. For one thing, it was his main hub for air travel. He probably came into town once a month.
It was also like any other city – nothing looked all that great from a freeway. You had to get into the heart of things to find out what a town was really like.
With that in mind, Tallon tapped his navigation system into which he’d already entered the Landmark Hotel as its destination.
He followed its directions and within ten minutes he was driving past the hotel. He hit the “end” button on the nav system and drove on past. It was a fairly elegant hotel by Vegas standards. Probably what they called a “boutique” hotel these days. It was a contemporary white tower with mirrored windows and a coral-colored Art Deco-inspired façade. It gave off a vibe of being retro but not in a hackneyed way, which is how things were usually done in Vegas.
There was no casino attached. Tallon was glad for that. A casino meant tons of foot traffic and innocent civilians wandering around.
Tallon drove around the block and cruised past the hotel again. He studied it looking for any watchers. People who didn’t belong. The area looked clean and he wondered if Paco had thought the same thing. It was easy to get lulled into being relaxed.
Tallon had no intention of making that mistake.
Finally satisfied with his initial assessment, he parked two blocks down and walked back.
He entered the hotel and was hit by the fresh scent of lemons. There was a huge water pitcher filled with them on a long, rectangular table made of black lacquered wood. The Art Deco motif continued inside with framed travel posters from the twenties. A light fixture made of recycled martini glasses added a touch of whimsy to the entrance. The tile floor was black-and-white checked and finely polished. The lobby was cavernous, surprisingly so, considering its exterior which communicated a boutique aesthetic.
A sweeping western mural occupied one wall and on the other, a wall of glass.
Ahead, a front desk was partially obscured by a fountain shooting plumes of water in unison.
Tallon had come prepared with a photo of Paco. He stepped up to the front desk and explained that his friend, Paco Williams had invited him for a drink. Could the front desk ring his room and let him know he was here?
The front desk employee was a young woman with dark black hair, caramel-colored skin and she wore a white suit with a black vest.
“Of course,” she said.
She tapped the keys of a computer and frowned. “We don’t have a guest here by that name.”
“Really? This is the Landmark Hotel, right?”
“Yes it is. Did he possibly register under a different name?”
“No, Paco Williams. P-A-C-O. Williams as it’s always spelled.”
She tried again but to no avail.
Tallon pulled out the photograph and showed it to her.
“Hmm. He does look familiar,” she said. “But we have a lot of guests in and out of here every day. Would you like me to get my manager? Although, honestly, I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
Tallon shook his head.
“No, but I would like to check in, if you have a room available.”
“We do,” she said and smiled, happy she could at least accommodate something he wished for.
Tallon retrieved his bags and went to his room. It was on the sixth floor. Very chic with a steel-and-black leather desk chair, a purple lounge chair and a king bed featuring an ultra-modern headboard.
Tallon set his bags on the bed, used the restroom and then stood and looked out the window. Beyond, he could see the famous Vegas strip.
He’d checked in for one reason only.
This was where Paco had made the call. He knew that because of the woman at the front desk. She had, in fact, recognized Paco. Her look gave it away and when she tried to recover from her mistake, she’d only made it worse.
It was all the confirmation Tallon had needed.
Now, he had one
goal in mind.
Figure out which room he’d stayed in.
Chapter 14
Thousands of miles away a man sat and watched his computer.
He’d just watched in real-time as the front desk terminal at the Landmark Hotel in Las Vegas had processed a search for a guest named Paco Williams.
The man sitting in front of the computer knew that Paco Williams had, in fact, been a guest at the hotel.
He also knew that any record of the man’s stay had thoroughly and systematically been erased from the hotel’s records. He himself had not been the one who had performed the operation, he’d simply watched as it happened before his very eyes.
The man crossed his arms and a tattoo flashed under the blue light of the computer monitor. It was an image of a snake’s head with oversized hinged fangs.
When colleagues had dubbed the man “Viper” for the speed and aggressiveness of his intellect, he’d followed up one drunken night by impetuously getting the tattoo. He’d regretted it ever since but hadn’t taken the steps to get the damn thing removed. For now, he was just living with it.
Despite his legendary reputation for computer virtuosity, he was doing nothing at the moment other than simply staring at his screen.
And thinking.
Mainly, he was thinking about how he may have been responsible for several murders. Everything had suddenly become terrifyingly real. These weren’t computer simulations; artificial entities dying in pretend cyberspace. This was real human blood being shed.
And his hands were covered with it.
He couldn’t think about that now.
The man known as Viper had to do something and do it fast.
Or more people were going to die.
Many, many more.
Chapter 15
Pauling sat in the first class section of the direct flight from New York to LA. They’d already lifted off and she had a glass of chardonnay on the foldout desktop. Next to her was a cosmetic dentist who was going to LA. for a conference on new and innovative uses of dental veneers. It sounded dreadfully boring to Pauling, but each to his own, she thought.
Having already exhausted as much dentistry conversation as she wished, Pauling opened her laptop and connected to the airplane’s Wi-Fi. She’d long ago purchased the access for herself and found it to be extremely useful.
Today was no exception.
She was a big believer in research and there was no way she was going to walk into a conference ostensibly to learn more about the Zeta Corporation without doing her due diligence. Pauling had thoroughly depleted the first line of research which had consisted of basic Internet searches as well as premium business-related websites which contained private information for investors.
The results had been disappointing to say the least.
It had occurred to her that perhaps she ought to make a foray into the next level of scrutiny; namely, professional researchers with special abilities to navigate security measures designed to keep them out.
Her go-to researcher was a Canadian who had originally emigrated from somewhere in Europe. He was expensive, but worth every penny.
Pauling fired up her private email account and sent him a message with a simple request for everything he could find on Zeta Corporation whose headquarters were possibly in Munich, Germany, which is what Henry Torcher had told her in the meeting at Global Security Solutions.
Pauling also sent her researcher the name of Goda Becher, the woman Torcher had told her was the CEO of Zeta.
This was particularly intriguing because Pauling’s own research had failed to bring up any mention anywhere of a woman named Goda Becher.
How had she managed to become head of a company whose budget was as enormous as Torcher claimed, yet leave no trace anywhere of her existence?
As an afterthought, she also asked her researcher to find out what she could about Henry Torcher. The man had piqued her interest as well. Pauling realized she didn’t know how long he’d been with Karl Furlong and GSS and, for that matter, where he’d come from.
With that complete, Pauling closed her email.
She launched her web browser to the most neutral website she could find and read the headlines. The economy was still going strong. A European soccer player was being accused of sexual assault. And a Silicon Valley executive had been murdered in Las Vegas. A man named Mikael Gladhus.
Pauling read the story intensely even though the name was not familiar to her.
Las Vegas.
Where Tallon was headed.
To help a friend, he’d said.
She made a mental note to text him when they landed. The two things – the man’s murder and Tallon’s trip to Las Vegas – certainly weren’t related.
One never knew, she thought.
Stranger things had happened.
Chapter 16
Tallon left his room, went back down to the front desk and found the woman to whom he’d showed Paco’s picture.
“Just curious if you’d remembered where you’d seen him,” Tallon said. It was a bit of a ploy. She hadn’t actually said she’d seen him, just that he may have looked familiar. Tallon wanted to see if she lied again.
The woman, whose name tag read Julie, shook her head.
“Sorry, no. I think I was mistaken.”
The same catch in her breath and her eyes looked up and to the right, away from Tallon’s face. Definitely lying. He just didn’t know why.
“No worries,” Tallon said. He walked through the lobby and off to the right he spotted a bar. Rule of thumb; when trying to find an ex-soldier, always check the bar. Odds were good someone had seen him.
Tallon slid onto a barstool and ordered a beer. When the bartender brought it, he fished out Paco’s photo.
“Did you happen to see this guy around here?” Tallon asked.
The bartender was a thin Latino man with very fine, effeminate features.
“Sorry, no,” he said.
Tallon nodded and glanced up at the television.
There was a local news story about a murder. Seemed a famous tech guy named Mikael Gladhus had been found dead in his room. A bullet to the head. A robbery, it was assumed.
The story finished with the request for any information.
When the story finished with the cops asking for help from the public, it usually meant they didn’t have a clue who’d committed the crime.
Tallon weighed the news story against why he was here. After a quick search on his phone, he learned that the hotel in which this Gladhus guy had been murdered was just a few blocks away.
Coincidence?
So this wealthy business executive had been murdered nearby, around the same time that Paco had been in enough trouble to call Tallon? And leave a strange voicemail that sounded suspiciously like someone firing a pistol with a sound suppressor attached?
And now, Paco was nowhere to be found? And if he was dead, why had no one found his body?
Tallon didn’t have any answers. He finished his beer and ordered another one.
He wasn’t a big believer in coincidences. He knew Paco worked a lot of high-profile security jobs. Maybe he’d been brought in to work for this Gladhus guy? Maybe the same person responsible for Gladhus’ murder had taken out Paco at the same time?
He grabbed his phone and scrolled to the mobile browser. Tallon again read the story of Gladhus’ murder and saw that it had taken place in front of a place called Empire. It occurred to him that if Paco had come into town to work security for Gladhus, taking a room at the Landmark would have been convenient and close.
Tallon left his second beer half-finished, paid the tab and walked out of the hotel. He strolled down toward the location of Empire, which he guessed was another luxury hotel.
The night was hot and dry. Ahead, he could see the lights of Vegas proper. He could practically smell the tourists eager to make the most of the time in the city. No doubt working hard to do things that would make for great stories when they returned home to
suburbia U.S.A.
Who could blame them? Life was short. Tallon knew that more than anyone.
Now, he got to Empire’s entrance and saw that it was indeed another hotel. Like the Landmark, it didn’t seem like a casino was attached.
Tallon walked past the entrance to Empire and kept walking. He went to the end of the block, crossed the street and stopped at the coffee shop directly across from Empire. If he were a betting man, this would have been where Paco had stationed himself. Easy to blend in. A safe distance. Depending, of course, on what his mission had been.
Tallon left the coffee shop and crossed the street. He entered Empire’s lobby and went to the front desk. This hotel made no pretense at historical references. It was uber contemporary and ultra chic. Tallon guessed the rooms were significantly more expensive than the Landmark.
The front desk was manned by a powerfully built blond man with a gap in his front tooth. Tallon repeated the question about Paco and showed the photograph.
The man shook his head.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him here,” he said.
Tallon thanked him, left Empire and walked back outside.
So far, he hadn’t learned much.
Except for one thing.
Someone else was interested in Paco.
Because Tallon had picked up a follower. He was being watched, and from the looks of it, by more than one person.
Chapter 17
The plane arrived in Los Angeles on time. The flight from New York had been uneventful.
The dentist seated next to Pauling allowed her to exit the plane first. He followed her down to baggage claim but did not stand next to her. Instead, once she’d retrieved her bag, he followed her out to the area designated Ground Transportation. A car was there waiting for her.
Once she took a seat and the car drove off, he took out his phone.
