by Jane Finch
“Simon,” he said, offering his hand. She shook it lightly.
“Lucy,” she responded, mentally going through her new identity. Lucy Cray, Sales Manageress and owner. Cray Cosmetics. He was bound to ask soon.
“Let’s order some drinks,” he said, smiling.
+ + +
The baking sunshine was giving them both a rosy glow. The waiter came and went throughout the day and they adjusted the sunbeds to follow the sun’s rays. They talked about her cosmetics company, how many staff she had, how long she had owned it. He asked about her home and her personal life, and she told him everything as documented by the team in her new identity. She had no conscience about the lies she told him as she listened to his fictitious account of his own life and work. What a couple of fraudsters we are, she thought wryly, except hers was for the good of man, and his was for the destruction. Ultimately, that is.
By five o’clock the sun was low and he began glancing at his watch. She raised her eyebrows quizzically.
“Siesta time?” he asked, eyes dancing. She nodded and smiled. Her best smile. She knew what she had to do. For the good of the cause.
They were both at the Hyatt Regency, and she already knew his room number. As he slid the key card into the lock and the door popped open with a click, she thought briefly about what was going to happen inside his room. She had no illusions. This was her job, and she had to do whatever it took to find the information. She slid her fingers inside her bag and slipped the sleeping tablet into her pocket. All she needed to do was convince him to take a few glasses of wine.
He had thought ahead, and a bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket, accompanied by a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. He had spared no expense, it seemed. His mobile chirped as they sat at the table and he began to pour the champagne. He looked at the message briefly, took a sip, winked at her, and got up and walked towards the bathroom.
“I just need to answer this,” he called.
Without taking her eyes from his back she found the tablet, crushed it in her fingers, and slipped it into his glass. She topped it up, holding the bottle high so the liquid caused more froth and the sleeping tablet dissolved quickly.
She heard him talking into the phone, his voice subdued. Then he was back.
“Lucy, I’m afraid we will have to postpone our little tryst. I have to go to a meeting.”
“Work?” she asked, watching his glass of champagne continue to bubble. But he didn’t answer, just handed her bag to her and walked her to the door. He nuzzled her neck.
“Later,” he whispered.
She ran down the stairs and along the corridor to her own room and quickly changed into a pair of white shorts and yellow shirt, and grabbing sunglasses hurried outside and jumped into her hire car. Then she turned on the air conditioning and slid down in the seat to wait. It was only a few minutes before he appeared. Miranda had expected him to be wearing the suit, but he, too, had changed into casual Bermuda shorts and a white tee-shirt. He walked quickly to a grey sedan, put the briefcase on the back seat, and drove away. She followed him slowly out on to West Bay Road, and was surprised when he turned right, away from George Town, and wondered exactly what sort of meeting he was going to.
She kept three cars between them as they headed round the bay. Soon the other cars turned off and she dropped back as far as possible. After a couple of miles he turned down a dirt track and she pulled over to the side of the road. It would be too obvious if she followed him in the car. She opened the glove compartment and took out a pair of binoculars and watched him as he drove slowly on. Scanning the area she saw another car was already parked ahead of Simon, and thanked her lucky stars she had not turned onto the track, as they would have spotted her for sure.
Simon stopped in front of the other car, and got out. The other car door opened and a man got out slowly. The two men stood looking at each other, neither moving towards the other. They stood like that for several minutes and just as Miranda was wondering what on earth was going on, she heard the drone of an engine. Her eyes flicked to the mirror but there was nothing in sight. Neither could she see another car up ahead. She slid the window down further and turned off the air conditioning so that she could hear better. The drone was getting louder. Suddenly a light plane flew overhead, so low that she ducked automatically. As it flew towards the two men, Miranda watched in amazement as the plane door opened and a large package was thrown out. It landed about fifty yards from the two waiting men, bounced a few times, and then was still. Simon and the other man hurried over to it and carried it back to Simon’s car.
Almost as quickly as it had appeared, the plane had gone. Miranda turned the car around and headed back to the hotel. This assignment was turning out to be more difficult than anyone had thought. It looked like she was going to have to get a little closer to Simon Buller.
+ + +
Miranda sipped her latte and watched the reception clerks. When the efficient tall blonde girl took a call she hurried over to the desk. A younger girl looked slightly alarmed and was clearly in training. Miranda smiled at her.
“I wonder if you could help me?” Miranda asked, leaning forward confidentially. The young clerk automatically leaned forward too.
“ I seem to have misplaced my door key card. Room 107. Can you issue another?”
The girl immediately looked relieved. This was clearly something she knew how to do. She checked the computer, asked for proof of identity, and gleefully produced a duplicate card.
“Thank you so much,” said Miranda as she turned and went back to her coffee. The tall clerk finished her call and continued going through paperwork with the trainee. Miranda finished her drink and sat back and waited.
People came and went, some pulling cases, some being followed by uniformed porters pushing trolleys stuffed with cases and bags. After about half an hour Miranda saw the two female clerks collect some papers and move to a room behind them. At the same time a male clerk moved over to the desk and answered a call. Miranda saw her chance, ran her fingers through her hair to ruffle it, and hurried over to the desk, the spare door key card to her own room in her hand. She waited impatiently whilst the clerk dealt with the call. She began shuffling from one foot to the other, caught the clerk’s eye, and raised her own to the ceiling. He understood she was flustered and in a hurry and nodded at her. As soon as he finished the call he looked at her expectantly.
“Can I help?” he asked politely.
Miranda handed him the key card.
“It’s my door key,” she said, “it doesn’t work, and I can’t find my husband anywhere.”
He nodded, took the card, and put it into a machine.
“Room number?”
“203,” she said calmly.
He checked the computer, typed the number into the card machine and handed the card with a smile.
“Thank you so much,” she said smiling.
“No problem, Mrs. Buller.”
She turned and walked to the lifts, heading for the second floor and Simon’s room.
CHAPTER TEN
The card worked perfectly, as she knew it would, and the door slid open silently. She entered cautiously, but she knew he had not yet returned as she had been sitting in reception since her return to the hotel.
The room was as they had left it. She quickly scanned the room looking for the best place he might have hidden any papers. She hurried to the room safe and found it locked. It was secured by individual passwords so she knew there was no point in asking at reception. They all needed a six digit number. His suit was hanging in the wardrobe and she checked the pockets. Empty.
She checked beneath the pillows on the bed, the bedside locker, inside the pages of a book, and even got on her knees and looked beneath the bed. She slid her hands down the sides of the chairs, felt around the cushions, checked behind the pictures on the walls, and even checked inside the toes of his shoes that were on the floor by the bed.
Finally she looked in
the bathroom. Nothing except his toiletries and some medication. Thoughtfully she picked up the bottle of tablets. They were prescription drugs and bore his name and date of birth, and the name of the drug and dosage. Enalapril; a blood pressure drug. Clearly he was not as cool and relaxed as he pretended to be. Just as she was putting the bottle back she had an idea. His date of birth – 05/12/84. Six digits.
She glanced at her watch. Two hours had passed since they had left the room. He could be back at any time. Just as she turned and was about to leave the bathroom she heard a click and the door to the room began to open. She quickly slid behind the door and glanced at the wall mirror where she had a clear view of the door. She felt the sweat begin to form at the base of her neck as Simon walked in, carrying the briefcase.
She knew she was holding her breath, but she couldn’t help it. If he entered the bathroom he would see her. He disappeared from view and she edged silently forward until she could see him place the briefcase under the bed. He sat down heavily and placed his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead and scraping his fingers through his hair.
She suddenly realized that if she could see him in the mirror, then he could probably see her, so she slowly pushed the door until it was only open about six inches. His head had still been in his hands so hopefully he had not noticed. Quickly she took out her mobile and began to text the information she had to the secure line the team had set up in George Town. She told them of the meeting, the drop, and her current predicament. She then pressed send and made sure the phone was on silent mode. Then she slipped it back into her pocket.
She went to the window. His room was on the second floor so there was no escape that way. She knew there was a balcony from the suite. She might be able to climb out from there if he happened to fall asleep. As her mind was racing his mobile phone rang. There was a pause and then he answered.
“Yep?”
Another pause.
“I was about to call you, I’ve only just got back. The drop went well, it’s all here.”
Silence.
“Yes, I’ll be there as arranged.”
She heard the phone click shut.
“You can come out of the bathroom now,” he called.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Miranda sat sheepishly in the chair by the balcony as he sat on the edge of the bed and looked thoughtful.
“I saw you as soon as I came in the door,” he stated.
She nodded but said nothing, trying desperately to think of a plausible excuse for her presence in his room.
“Plus when the desk clerk told me my … ‘wife’… was already here, it kind of gave me a clue.”
Miranda shrugged.
“What can I say?” she said.
“So come on, spill the beans,” he prompted, “and I want the truth, not some feeble excuse or made up story.”
He stood suddenly and began pacing around the room.
“ For a start,” he said, “I know you’re not in cosmetics because there is no Cray Cosmetics.”
He waved his phone in the air.
“Wonderful things these new phones, internet access is so easy.”
She looked startled.
“You checked up on me?”
He smiled.
“Lady, I check up on everybody. Now tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
She sighed.
“Okay. My name really is Lucy Cray, but you’re right, I don’t own a cosmetics company.”
“Then what do you do?” he asked suspiciously.
She paused for a moment, her mind silently racing.
“I’m a thief,” she declared, “a professional thief.”
“But why are you here?”
Her eyes went to the briefcase just visible under the bed. His eyes followed hers.
“The briefcase,” she said, “I wanted to find out what was in the briefcase.”
“You’re one nosey little lady, aren’t you?”
“I have to be to make a living at what I do.”
He glanced at his watch, moved over to her and put out his hands. She reached out for them and he pulled her up.
“I actually believe you,” he said, leading her towards the door, “ but we need to have a discussion and now is not a good time. Go back to your room and get some rest. Come back in a couple of hours and we’ll talk some more. I might even show you what’s in the case.”
He opened the door and gently pushed her into the corridor. Then he held out his hand and reluctantly she gave him the key card.
“Be back here at 8pm,” he said quietly as he closed the door.
+ + +
She had two hours at the most. She hurried down to the first floor and went to the room next door to his. Room 201. She knocked loudly. It was the time of day when most visitors were back from the beach and resting in their rooms before dinner. She hoped and prayed someone would answer. She tried to be patient but couldn’t help herself. She knocked again.
The door opened and two girls peered out. Both aged about eighteen, tanned and tired from the day’s sunbathing.
“I’m really sorry to disturb you,” Miranda gushed, “but my boyfriend’s room is next door and I’ve locked myself out. He’s gone out for the evening. Could I go out on to your balcony and see if I can get across?”
One of the girls looked puzzled.
“Why don’t you just go and ask reception for another key?” she asked.
Miranda looked embarrassed.
“Well,, I would,” she began, “but you see they don’t know I’m here. He’s on a business trip and I…sort of…. came along unofficially.”
The girls looked at each other and giggled.
“Of course, of course. Come and take a look, but I think it will be too far.”
Miranda tried to look casual, walked through their room and over to the balcony, and assessed the length of the gap. She knew she could make it easily, but for the sake of appearances she had to put on an act. She hesitated, climbed on to the side railing, and then jumped back down.
“It is a long way,” she said in a tight voice that she hoped sounded frightened.
“I think it’s too far,” said one girl and the other nodded in agreement. Miranda climbed up on to the railing, took a deep breath, and launched herself across the one metre gap, landing squarely on the balcony of room 203. She punched the air, gave the girls a thumbs up, and hurried inside.
She went straight to the safe and entered the numbers of his birth date, 05 12 84. The safe clicked open. She shook her head. What an amateur. The least he could have done was mixed up the numbers a bit. Inside the safe was his wallet, passport, a bunch of papers, some dollars, and a mobile phone. She turned the phone on and quickly blue-toothed the information on to her own mobile. Then she scanned the papers – just a bunch of real estate information – looked through his wallet, and checked his passport. There was nothing else of interest so she closed the safe and locked it.
As she started to leave she noticed the briefcase was still under the bed. She had assumed he would have taken it with him to the meeting. Her watch confirmed she still had plenty of time. She dragged it out, surprised at how light it was, and put it onto the bed. She sighed when she saw it was locked by code. If it had been a normal lock she had ways of breaking that, but a code took time. This was a four digit code and could have been anything. Probably the number of his house or something stupid. Or the year of his birth, she thought. She put in 1984 and couldn’t believe it when the lock clicked open. What an idiot, she thought.
She lifted the case and was surprised to find it filled with documents and certificates. A quick scan through revealed they all related to property and company acquisitions. No drugs. She took out her mobile, reported the situation to her team, and asked for instructions.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Miranda waited in her room until ten minutes to eight o’clock. She felt refreshed after a cool shower and a change of clothes. The simple white dress she had chosen showed o
ff the light tan she had got from the sunshine earlier in the day.
She began to run through things in her mind as she walked to his room. It didn’t look as if they were going to be able to make an arrest this time. The drugs had clearly already been handed on after the drop. She would have to answer to the fact that she didn’t follow the trail of the drugs. It had been reasonable to assume he would take them back to the hotel first, and there was a risk she would have been seen in such an exposed area. We’re all wiser with hindsight, she thought.
The real estate stuff didn’t make sense. The team seemed to think it was to do with money laundering. Get cash for the drugs and then put it in a Cayman bank and use it to buy property on the island and build a portfolio big enough to create a pension fund fit for a king.
In order to build a case they would need the bank account number, but Cayman Islands banks were notorious for their anonymity and non-disclosure, and getting any type of warrant would alert Simon to the investigation.
She was being called off the case for the time being. The drugs trail had gone cold and the money laundering issue was not this assignment. She’d argued that she was in an ideal situation to follow it up, but the powers that be sitting at their desks in Washington had declined. They were running a trace on all small plane movement over the island and were hoping to find a lead. She was to go home and await further instructions.
But Miranda was reluctant to leave when she had already wormed her way into Simon Buller’s life. He had to know something, and she had found that men usually let something slip eventually. Something to do with vanity, she guessed. Failing that, often they talked in their sleep.
She reached Room 203 and immediately noticed the door was ajar. She pushed it gently, and edged forward.
“Simon?” she called.
She heard movement a half second before the arm went around her neck and her arms were tugged behind her back and her wrists handcuffed. She had no time to react as the tape was slapped across her mouth. A knee in her back brought her to her knees. Her eyes moved to the mirror on the wall where she could see inside the bathroom where Simon’s body lay. She smelled the chloroform before the cloth covered her nose, and then blackness descended.
