Room 1515

by Bill Wetterman

  Nash scowled. “Yes, my little Lovey. The bitch played me.”

  “Or was it the other way around, Mr. Nash?” Ursa threw the phone record across the table. “Who’s Lytle?”

  “How . . .?” Nash went rigid and said nothing else.

  “You see, Peacock,” Ursa said. “Mr. Nash knows who the men were who came after you. Because he knows, he’s not just a harmless lobbyist. Give Felicia her instructions. Protocol says it’s your call.”

  Peacock touched Felicia’s hands and whispered. “Kill Nash.”

  A shot rang out instantly followed by a second. Nash’s head exploded and brain matter flew back and to the sides of where he sat. What was left of his head flopped backwards.

  “Why did you fire your gun?” Felicia yelled. “Don’t you trust me?”

  Peacock glared at her. “To be sure he didn’t suffer. Murder is fine. Suffering isn’t.”

  “No squabbling you two,” Ursa grumbled. “Leave him there.” He pointed at the two guards cowering at Nash’s side. “We’ll be done in a moment.”

  “Sir,” Carna said, seemingly unshaken by Nash’s death. “New Hampshire needs federal funding to finish infrastructure rebuilding. Monroe’s office has to threaten him.”

  Who was this Carna woman? She wasn’t just a technology whiz, not the way heads turned when she spoke. That scorpion tattoo between her shoulder blades said she was more than just a computer nerd.

  “Carna’s right,” Ursa said. “I’ll inform President Monroe.”

  Ursa turned and addressed Felicia. “You are excused. The next topic only concerns Peacock.”

  Felicia left still fuming over Peacock’s second shot.

  “Continue the tape,” Ursa said. “Now watch carefully.”

  Holman got up and left. Then Martin waved Daphne over. “Have you thought about our little talk?”

  “Yes,” Daphne said and slipped Martin a note. Martin studied the note and left without another word. Shortly afterward Daphne followed Martin out. She was gone ten minutes, but she didn’t report her absence to Peacock.

  Ursa stopped the tape and slumped where he sat.

  “Is it safe speaking openly here?” Peacock asked, looking at Nash’s former guards.

  “Clean up that mess,” Ursa said, pointing at Nash’s body. “Peacock and I will finish this in my office.”

  She followed Ursa back to his office and Ursa closed the door.

  “I didn’t want to discuss how to deal with Daphne in front of other Herculeans,” Peacock said.

  “So noted,” Ursa answered. “Now tell me what you’re going to do and why.”

  Peacock ran the scenario over in her mind. “First, I’ll go to Daphne’s room. She should be there at this time of day. I’ll ask her to explain her actions regarding Martin. If she cooperates, Polaris will record her reasoning. If she doesn’t, the interrogation may take longer. In any case, if she’s guilty I’ll kill her.”

  “Why will you kill her?”

  “She’ll have betrayed Hercules.”

  “Right answer,” Ursa said. “I’ll have cleaners in her room minutes after you’re done. They’ll leave no evidence that a Daphne ever existed.”

  Ursa came around his desk and hugged her. “I’m sorry you have to do this. But as you learned today, in this crazy world, the only people you can trust are your fellow Herculeans.”

  “I thought I could trust Daphne,” Peacock said.

  “Daphne? I don’t know a Daphne.”

  Ursa’s comment made sense in a morbid sort of way. “Go tend to Felicia,” He said. “She needs your approval.”

  Peacock left Ursa’s office and found Felicia sitting in the waiting room with her head in her hands. She knelt down next to her and touched her arm. “Time to go back to work, Soul Sister,” Peacock whispered. “I need you to do a walkthrough of Room 1515 for me.”

  Felicia looked up, obviously still a bit fumed by Peacock’s second shot at Nash.

  “I’m sorry,” Peacock said. “I didn’t want a former lover to suffer.”

  “I understand. But sometimes this job sucks.”

  #

  Peacock entered the Emerald Hotel and rushed across the main lobby to the Towers elevator. She headed up to the twelfth floor grumbling as she went. Nash obviously knew Lytle, the man who bungee-jumped up the laundry chute. She shook off her guilty feelings about killing Nash. Whether killing Daphne would cause her a problem was yet to be seen.

  As Peacock approached Daphne’s room, she noted two empty glasses on a tray outside the door. A Do Not Disturb sign hung on the doorknob. She reached into her bag, pulled out a blow dart, and inserted her master key into the door. As she opened the door, a naked man jumped off the bed. She exhaled, and the man fell lifeless to the floor.

  The sound of water splashing in the shower amused Peacock. Her victim was cleansing herself before ascending to heaven. The bathroom door was open a crack. Peacock crept in, pulled back the shower curtain, and fired a Taser gun. Daphne screamed, jerked uncontrollably, and fell out of the shower, splitting her head open on the tile floor.

  Peacock dragged Daphne out of the bathroom and tied her hands to the foot of the bedpost. Then she rolled the naked man over to find Ambassador Zelinoff. Maybe the contact between Daphne and Martin had been arranged by Zelinoff. He always asked for Daphne. “How do I play this, Polaris, kill them both?”

  “No, Zelinoff won’t wake up for hours. If Daphne confirms him as her contact, we’ll see he’s dealt with. Maybe another ambassador will be assigned.”

  “Damn it. I thought you’d say that.”

  Peacock wondered why the woman died and the man stayed alive.

  She knelt down by Daphne who was still jerking. She pointed the Taser gun at Daphne’s chest. “Ursa knows you’re a traitor. Tell everything you know, now.”

  “If I do, you won’t hurt me.”

  “No. I won’t hurt you again. Did Zelinoff put you up to this?”

  “Zelinoff knows nothing. He’s being played by his translator who’s in the employ of a man called Lytle.”

  First the bodyguard. Now the translator. “What did they offer you?”

  Daphne vomited. Peacock ignored the mess.

  “What did they offer you?” she yelled again.

  “Each time Zelinoff’s party came in,” Daphne said. “I gave the interpreter information I’d heard about the Stromiehre bid. I wanted to save some money to quit. He paid me three hundred cash each visit. All I am is an information whore anyway. I want more out of life.”

  “Information whore or not, you took three hundred dollars, when you have an unlimited expense account?”

  Daphne’s trembling turned to spasms.

  “Are you afraid I’ll Taser you again?”

  Daphne nodded her head several times.

  “So you were taking money from Martin for information?”

  “Martin told me he’d pay me ten thousand dollars for the names of the Herculeans employed at The Emerald. I have a meeting scheduled with him tomorrow.”

  “Where’s your list?”

  Daphne’s head bounced wildly around as if she were looking for a way to escape. Peacock waved the Taser at her. “Ten seconds.”

  “The list’s in my checkbook in my purse.”

  “Read the names aloud,” Polaris said.

  Peacock found Daphne’s purse, then the checkbook, and then the list. “Laverna Smythe! You bitch! Only my name was on your list.”

  “I was testing him. If he paid me the ten thousand, I’d know he was serious, and I’d give him more.”

  “Kill her,” Polaris whispered. “You’ll be the one meeting with Martin. Find out where.”

  “Tell me where the meeting is, and I’ll put the Taser away.”

  “At the Bristol Hotel tomorrow at nine in the morning, Room 1542.”

  Peacock lowered the Taser.

  “What are you going to do?” Daphne pulled her legs up and leaned as far forward as the hand restraints would allow. “
Let me speak with Ursa,” she asked. “Maybe I can double-cross Martin for him.”

  “And interesting thought,” Peacock said to comfort her. “I won’t hurt you. But I need to untie your hands.”

  She leaned down and wrapped her arms around Daphne’s neck. With one swift twist, she severed Daphne’s head from her spine at the neck. Daphne’s head fell forward, held in place only by the tendons.

  “Call in the cleaners. What do I do about Zelinoff?”

  “We’ll put him in his car with an empty bottle of Vodka, and let his embassy decide what to do with him.”

  Peacock heard Polaris shouting instructions as he disconnected audio. Martin must die for his treachery. She would make sure he did.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” she said, to the corpse in the room as she left. “Today wasn’t your day.”

  chapter 17

  “I miss you,” Peacock said, as she rode in a black stretch limousine to the Bristol Hotel.

  “I miss you, too,” Pendleton answered. “Are we still on for watching the election results come in?”

  “Well, there’s a how do you do.” She feigned a sniffle. “I don’t care much about the election. I thought I’d let you shag me in every room in my house.”

  “You talk like a tart, and I love it. Having our time together is number one. It’s just that there’s a jolly good fortune riding on the outcome of this election. Humor me for one evening out of six.”

  “Then bring me something special to make up for the lack of attention.”

  “Like what?’

  “Something I’d never buy for myself. Surprise me with an early Christmas present.”

  “I will,” Pendleton promised.

  “I’m looking forward to you staying at my place. You’ll love Bethesda.”

  “I love you,” he said and hung up.

  While Felicia tended to Room 1515, Peacock checked into the Bristol Hotel.

  “This time,” Polaris said. “We have agents in Room 1541 across from Martin. Your room is next to his. Hotel management didn’t like us forcing out guests. But we made them an offer they were happy to accept.”

  “Does Ursa have an endless supply of money?” she asked.

  “Our operation costs are hidden in the Homeland Security and Defense Budgets to the tune of twelve billion dollars,” Polaris replied. “We’ve never spent near that much.”

  The limousine pulled up in front of the Bristol. Her check-in had been prearranged. Peacock grabbed her key and headed up to her room. She went straight into the bathroom to check her makeup. Brown contacts, a hair extension, and a different shade of blush altered her appearance enough to allow her to pass for someone else long enough to do her job.

  She leaned her ear against the wall adjoining Martin’s room. No sounds registered.

  “Who’s next door to me in Room 1546?” she asked.

  “One moment,” Polaris said. “Both 1546 and 1542 are registered to a T. J. Little.”

  All her defense mechanisms flashed red. “Little is too close to Lytle for my liking. Call that room and see who answers.”

  She waited for a response. “Polaris?”

  “One moment, again” he said. “I’m fast, but these things take time. Okay, there’s trouble ahead. We snaked an optical wire into Martin’s room and the one next to his. Carna activated them. Martin’s not in his room. Martin’s not even here. There are four nasty looking types in Room 1546 and a man putting on a brown suit in Room 1542.”

  “Does he have blue eyes?”

  “Carna, focus in.” Polaris said. “Yes, indeed.”

  “That’s Lytle. They were going to take Daphne, extract the information, and then kill her most likely.” Peacock inhaled an uneasy breath of air. “I’m sure she would have died a horrible death judging from what Lytle was going to do to me the last time we met.”

  Peacock glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed – eight forty a.m. “We’ve only twenty minutes to decide on an action plan.”

  A scraping noise interrupted her train of thought. She looked up to see a thin wire being pulled back through the air vent.

  “Damn it. I’ve been spotted,” she gasped. “They’ve set a trap and ran their own optical line.”

  “Leave,” Polaris screamed.

  Too late, the door to adjoining Room 1546 burst open, slamming against the wall of her room. She flung a star wheel but the first man through somersaulted into the room and came up swinging. He hit her square on the jaw as she injected her switchblade into his groin and cut upward.

  Dazed, she attempted to block the blows being thrown at her. Two men knocked her off her feet. She tripped one and cracked his head on the television stand next to the wall. The other landed on top of her, hands around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. She gasped for air, trying to maintain consciousness. Her throat involuntarily convulsed.

  She totally relaxed her hand grasping for the mace in her purse lying next to her. A pain shot into her larynx, as she grabbed the mace. She sprayed wildly catching the corner of her attacker’s eye and pushed him back off her. Struggling to her feet, she grasped for her gun. Reaching it, she fired killing the man who had choked her and the other man she’d flung to the floor.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  I’ll see you soon, little brother.

  Then everything faded to black.

  #

  Pendleton dialed the Prime Minister’s private line from his New York office and fiddled with his tie while he waited for Claymore to finish other business.

  “Madam Prime Minister,” he said when he had her attention. “The matter with Holman is settled. He voted to support the Stromiehre project.”

  “Good. What about voting against Monroe?”

  Her tone irritated him. He’d soon have more power than she would. But he endured for now. “Martin is still working on Holman, but regardless, I want Reed to begin preparations for assassinating Monroe in case Martin fails.”

  “Permission granted. Have you had a chance to talk to Professor Cline?”

  “Our code specialist for missile launching is sitting in my outer office as we speak.”

  A strange silence greeted his ears. “Madam, are you still on the line?”

  “Sorry, I’m struggling with how to phrase this.” She cleared her throat. “I must confess I’m worried about you.”

  “How so?”

  “This marriage of yours seems to have developed too fast for my comfort level. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a pleasant enough girl, but I don’t want you hurt.”

  Pendleton frowned. His mum loved Lovey now that they’d met. Grace had no right to speak out against her. “Trust my instincts, Madam. I married the best.”

  “I’ll wait for your call on Cline.”

  Pendleton hung up. He couldn’t dwell on her comments about Lovey further. Cline’s allegiance and loyalty must be to him, not MI6, and not Throgmorton. Cline had to be his primary focus. If Pendleton could tap into the man’s real motivation for betraying his country, he could control Cline.

  Pendleton stepped up to the one-way mirror and looked out into his waiting area. Cline was leisurely strolling around touching lamps, admiring pictures, and running his hands over the tabletops.

  This curly haired thirty-two year old had a cocky air about him. His glasses, trousers, and shoes were outdated and poorly kept. Not your G.Q. type. Pendleton had seen enough.

  He opened his office door and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Thad, old boy. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Until I landed in New York, I hadn’t heard anything about you.” Cline sauntered past Pendleton as haughty as you please. Pendleton mulled over how to control Cline’s ego.

  “Let’s you and I come to an agreement.” Pendleton shut his office door. “Whether you become a very rich man or a body floating in the Hudson River depends on me. Do you understand?”

  Cline didn’t look at Pendleton. Rather, he scanned Pendleton’s office with a boyish interest. “Yes
, I understand. And, yes, I’ll cooperate. It would have been blasted inconvenient trying to find my way around New York by myself. Thanks for sending a limousine.”

  Cline sat down at the coffee table. Pendleton sat across from him.

  “Let me review my notes on you.”

  Cline’s head bobbed around taking in his surroundings with obvious awe.

  “You graduated from MIT at age eighteen and received your PhD in Mathematics at the age of twenty-two.”

  “Yes, and don’t forget my PhD in Theoretical Physics,” Cline said, looking at Pendleton directly for the first time. “Now I’m thirty-two and being bled for my abilities without the appropriate recognition.”

  “But you head the coding program for the U.S. spaced-based missile program. That’s amazing for a thirty-two year old.”

  This bushy-haired nerd with thick sandy hair seemed all about being praised. Didn’t he consider his stature within the program as recognition?

  “I live for my work, and I work twelve hour days. No time left for night life or meeting Miss Right-for-the-night.”

  “I don’t have the knowledge to understand what you do,” Pendleton said. “But I want to understand why you’re helping MI6.”

  Cline chuckled. “No one understands what I do, except a very intelligent computer that helps me do it.” His baby skin-smooth face and hazel eyes made him look younger than he was. “Why I’m helping MI6 is my own business.”

  “If I’m going to cater to you, your motive is my business,” Pendleton snapped. “All you’ve asked for so far has been a time share in Las Vegas and spending money while you’re there.”

  Pendleton’s face heated. “I can do more for you. But I need results, and I need to know your motivation.”

  Cline sprawled out where he sat. “You will do more for me. You need me.”

  Pendleton slammed the coffee table. “No, Professor Cline, you need me. You’ve already accepted favors for information. Don’t you think your treachery is documented? Once you enter the world of espionage, you’re committed. Would you rather have your life in the hands of undercover agents, or me? Quite honestly, I’m the only one who you can trust to protect you.”

  A serious quiver shook Cline’s body. He sat up straight. “My life has been study and work. I want to enjoy myself. I want my work publically recognized. The U.S. government will not credit my talent. So when I was approached by someone who appreciated what I’ve done, I agreed.”