Lost Identity Page 12

  The painting was of an eagle, swooping majestically, talons outstretched. The sweep of the wings and the curve of its neck lent it a strikingly lifelike quality. And the eyes – gleaming with a golden-yellow glow – drew his gaze like a magnet. Stephen was not an art expert, but he could appreciate a striking picture when he saw one; the way that this creature came alive on the canvas quite literally took his breath away.

  ‘You painted that?’ said Stephen, swept away by the magnificent image he was looking at.

  She nodded. ‘Do you like it?’ she said, her eyes wide and enquiring.

  ‘It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  Her smile was radiant. ‘I’ve always loved painting, ever since I was a little girl – especially wildlife.’

  ‘Have you been to art school, or had some other sort of training?’

  She gave an ironic laugh. ‘My mother could never have afforded anything like that.’

  ‘So you’re self-taught?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Well, that’s just incredible.’

  ‘Do you really like it, or are you just being kind?’

  ‘No, honestly - I think it’s fantastic. I’m no expert but, in my opinion, you could paint professionally. You should get a proper art critic to assess your work. Maybe you could actually make painting a full-time career.’

  Her eyes took on a faraway look. ‘Oh my God – that would be a dream come true, but I can’t ever see it happening.’

  ‘Why not? You have the talent.’

  ‘You’re very kind to say so, but’ – she sighed deeply – ‘I just can’t see any way out of my current situation, never mind make a whole new life as an artist.’

  Stephen sensed she was on the brink of sharing much more information about herself; he gave her the opening to encourage her to do so.

  ‘So what exactly is your situation?’

  ‘OK,’ she said, sitting down on the bed, ‘you’ve told me your story, so I guess I should tell you mine.’

  She patted the bed alongside her, and Stephen sat down too. And then she began …

  ‘After my mother died, there was nothing for me in Mexico. I have no brothers, sisters, cousins … no-one. It’s hard for a girl on her own to make anything of her life there, so I decided to try to make a fresh start in the USA.’

  Stephen judged that it wasn’t the right time to ask about the circumstances of her mother’s death, or the whereabouts of her father; she would tell him in her own time if she wanted to.

  She continued, ‘As a single Mexican female with no connections here and no special skills, it would have been impossible for me to enter the States legally, but it’s not hard to get in undetected. Hundreds of thousands do it every year.

  ‘Once you’re in, of course, there’s a chance that they’ll find you out and deport you, but if you’ve got enough money you can get false papers. I know others who have lived here for years after doing that. They’ve got good lives now and aren’t likely to ever be found out.’

  ‘So is that your plan?’

  ‘Yeah, but I need about three thousand dollars to get the false papers. I came here with practically nothing, and the only job I could get was waitressing – which doesn’t exactly pay megabucks. By the time I’ve paid the rent on this dump’ – she indicated the patchy paintwork and shabby furnishings around them with a sweep of her hand – ‘and covered my basic living expenses, it don’t leave much over for saving.’

  She paused, a frown creasing her forehead. Stephen had the sense that she was uncertain how much more to share.

  ‘You said earlier that you had become involved with some bad people,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah … worse luck. About a year ago, this guy came into the diner and started sort of flirting with me. He was quite good-looking and kind of funny, so I didn’t mind. Anyway, he kept coming back and, one day, he asked me if I wanted to earn a bit of extra money. By now, I kind of trusted him, so I asked him what would be involved. He said that all I had to do was deliver a package to someone, and he’d pay me three hundred dollars. Christ – that was more than a full week’s wages at the diner. I knew it must be something shady, of course, but for that sort of money, I didn’t really care.

  ‘Anyway, there were no problems. I delivered the package and he paid me just like he said he would. A couple of weeks later, he asked me to deliver another package – again for three hundred dollars. I thought, “At this rate, I’ll be able to save up enough for my papers in no time”.

  ‘But after a while, I realised what I was delivering: it was drugs. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised … and in all honesty I wasn’t really. I just preferred not to know, particularly when I could see what drugs were doing to some of the kids around here.

  ‘Before long, I realised that the guy who was paying me was part of a vicious gang, responsible for a whole string of murders, as well as God knows how many more deaths due to drug addiction.

  ‘By now, I wanted out. I had saved around half of what I needed, and I didn’t want anything more to do with these people. But when I told them, they said I couldn’t get out. And that episode in the alley’ – she stifled a sob – ‘was their way of reminding me that I was their property now.’

  Tears had started to well from the corners of her eyes. Her voice tailed off as she reached for a tissue.

  ‘Oh, Christ, Carla,’ said Stephen, placing a protective arm around her shoulders, ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  She screwed up the tissue, dropping it on the table and forcing a small smile. ‘So I guess you could say we’re both in a bit of trouble here.’

  Stephen’s heart went out to this girl who, in spite of her own desperate situation, was willing to go out of her way to try to help him. Was there anything he could do to help her in return?

  It took him only a few seconds to decide. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t even consider doing what he was about to do … but these were hardly normal circumstances. He slipped his wedding ring off his finger and placed it on the table. ‘This is probably worth at least four thousand dollars. Take it.’

  Her head went back and her eyes widened. ‘Your wedding ring? I … I can’t take that. What about Emma?’

  ‘Look, you need the money and, right now, I don’t have any. If you sell this you’ll have enough to get your papers, and probably a bit left over. You can then skip to the other end of the country and disappear. I doubt those thugs would bother to try to track you down – they’ll just find some other unsuspecting person to do their dirty work for them.’

  ‘But … your wife …’

  ‘I know, but … look, in the end it’s just a ring. My priority is to rescue Emma from whatever it is that she … and I … have become involved in. Once we’re out of danger, we can renew our vows, get new rings … whatever. So, take it.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, taking the ring from the table, ‘but I won’t sell it unless I absolutely have to. Maybe, once this whole mess is sorted out, I’ll find some other way.’

  Maybe, thought Stephen but, at that moment, that light at the end of the tunnel seemed very distant indeed.

  ***

  They arrived at the Delano at 11.45 a.m. If Stephen’s recollection that lunch was booked for 1 p.m. was correct then they were very early, but Stephen was hoping that perhaps Emma might also arrive early. If so, there might be a chance to get her alone before the other ‘Stephen’ turned up.

  As they walked through the main doors, they were confronted by a huge foyer, predominantly white, which extended for the entire depth of the hotel. Two rows of pillars flanked a wide, central walkway leading to large, open doors at the back of the building. To either side of the central walkway were various items of somewhat unconventional furniture: a huge, button-backed couch; a double bed, on which a couple lounged, sipping champagne; and a chair whose feet actually wore high heels! Many more, equally unusual, pieces lined both sides of the wide central area. It was an eclectic mix with little to
suggest a common theme, other than all being rather eccentric. Huge, white voile curtains hung from ceiling to floor at regular intervals along the walkway, swaying gently in the breeze which wafted through the foyer due to the open doors at both ends.

  ‘Wow! Quite some place,’ said Stephen. ‘Have you been in here before?’

  Carla gave him a quizzical look. ‘You’ve seen my apartment. You think this sort of place is in my league?’

  He smiled. ‘I guess not. Let’s find the restaurant.’

  As they neared the back of the foyer, they could see that the back doors opened onto a garden and pool area. Through a small gap in the trees ahead, they could see the sparkling blue ocean beyond. And then they saw, to their left, the entrance to the restaurant.

  ‘Wait there for a minute,’ said Stephen, indicating a couch, nestling in an alcove to the right of the foyer. ‘I’ll go and take a look inside.’

  He sidled up to the restaurant entrance and stole a glance inside. There were only three couples seated there and, as expected, no sign of Emma yet.

  ‘Is it just one dining today, sir?’ The waiter had seemingly materialised from nowhere in the few seconds Stephen had taken to scan the room.

  ‘No … thank you. I only checked in today and I was just taking a look around.’

  ‘Well, welcome to the Delano, sir. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He beat a hasty retreat and went over to where Carla was waiting.

  ‘She’s hasn’t arrived yet. Let’s just wait right here – we can see anyone entering or leaving the restaurant, so if she arrives on her own, maybe I can intercept her.’

  ‘OK – sounds like a plan,’ said Carla.

  ‘Say, you want a drink?’ he said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out fifteen dollars and a few coins.

  ‘If that’s all you’ve got left, I think you’d better hang on to it. In any case, I don’t drink these days.’

  ‘Well, I could certainly use one – I’ve got a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies swirling round in my stomach.’

  ‘A kaleidoscope?’ she repeated, tilting her head and drawing her eyebrows together in a puzzled frown.

  ‘Well that’s what you call a bunch of butterflies isn’t it? You know … like a flock, or a shoal or something.’

  She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I’m afraid I really wouldn’t know.’

  Weird, thought Stephen. Most of my memory is shot to pieces, yet a bloody useless fact like that is still lodged in there somewhere.

  ‘Anyway, maybe I won’t have a drink either,’ he said. ‘I need to be stone-cold sober when I talk to Emma. And,’ he added, gazing at the meagre stash of money in his hand, ‘you’re probably right – as I’m down to my last fifteen dollars, I should probably save the money for something more important.’

  They settled back to wait, the nervous silence between them punctuated only by the exchange of the odd word or two, mostly commenting on the unusual surroundings or the diverse cast of characters drifting to and fro through the foyer. Every so often, a couple or a small group would stop at the entrance to the restaurant, causing Stephen to lean forward and check whether Emma was among them.

  At around 12.45 p.m. she arrived. Although she had her back to him, there was no mistaking the slim figure, elegant walk, and luxuriant mass of blonde hair draped down the back of her vibrant blue dress.

  ‘That’s her,’ said Stephen, making to rise to his feet.

  ‘Wait!’ cautioned Carla, placing a restraining hand on his arm. ‘There’s someone with her.’ The other person was hidden from Stephen’s view by one of the large pillars in the foyer, but Carla could see him. ‘Come over here,’ she whispered, pulling him towards her so that he could crane his neck for a better view.

  The man standing next to Emma, as they waited to be seated, wore a dark business suit. Stephen couldn’t see his face, but assumed it must be his nemesis, the bogus ‘Stephen’.

  But it wasn’t. When the man turned his head, a wave of nausea swept over Stephen. The thin, angular features; the dark piercing eyes; the dark, greasy, slicked-back hair. It was the man who had pursued him in the subway – the same man who had murdered Doctor Holt.

  Chapter 16

  Stephen’s heart sank. Now he knew for sure that Emma was in danger – she had just arrived in the company of a murderer. And yet, she showed no signs of distress as this man placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her gently through to the restaurant. Maybe she didn’t realise just what these people were capable of.

  ‘Is that the man who is impersonating you?’ breathed Carla, leaning towards him to whisper in his ear.

  ‘No – worse I’m afraid. That is the man who murdered Doctor Holt.’

  She gasped. ‘But I thought she was meant to meet you here, so … well, if anyone else was to show up you’d think it would be him … I mean the other you.’

  ‘I don’t get it either. I thought she’d be arriving alone to meet me … or him. But this … it means Emma really is in serious danger. How the hell am I going to get her away from him so that I can talk to her alone?’

  ‘Let’s just wait a bit. Maybe there’ll be a chance later.’

  ‘Or maybe I should just go right in there and drag her out … get her away from that monster. What could he do to stop me in a public setting like this?’

  ‘Stephen, no. You’ll just cause a horrible scene, and even if you don’t get carted off by Hotel Security you’ll have alerted those people to the fact that you’re watching them. Who knows what would happen then?’

  He blew out his cheeks, exhaling in a long, steady stream. ‘I guess you’re right.’

  ‘Let’s just wait and bide our time.’

  So they did and, ten minutes later, came the second surprise: the other Stephen arrived. He walked up to the restaurant entrance, spoke briefly to the waiter who greeted him, and pointed his finger towards somewhere inside the restaurant. The waiter nodded, exchanging a few words with him before ushering him inside.

  ‘Is that the imposter?’ whispered Carla.

  He nodded, sighing heavily. ‘So now she’s trapped in there with the two of them. How on earth am I going to get her on her own now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Carla, ‘but there’s nothing to be gained by barging in there. Let’s just continue to wait – maybe there’ll be a chance at some point.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he sighed but, in truth, he was feeling increasingly despondent.

  ‘Look, I have to go to the bathroom. You keep watching and waiting while I go and find the ladies’ room.’

  She was gone for just a few minutes.

  ‘Anything?’ she enquired, when she returned, sitting down alongside him once more.

  He shook his head, but at that precise moment, the dark-haired guy with whom Emma had arrived emerged from the restaurant entrance. He buttoned his jacket and began striding purposefully down the centre of the foyer. As he disappeared from sight, Stephen rose to his feet and risked a peep around the pillar which was obscuring his view. To his surprise, the man did not break stride, but walked all the way to the main entrance and stepped outside. Stephen continued to watch for a minute or two, but the man did not return.

  ‘He’s gone,’ murmured Stephen, as he sat back down.

  ‘But why?’ mused Carla. ‘He can only have been in there for about fifteen minutes – he wouldn’t even have had time to have a starter.’

  ‘And he’s left Emma with the other guy in there.’

  A chilling possibility struck him; as he looked into Carla’s eyes, she said, out loud, what he was already thinking.

  ‘Maybe they don’t want to allow her to be on her own. Maybe that guy’s job was just to guard her until your ... well, the other Stephen arrived.’

  ‘If so, it’s clear that they’re holding her against her will – forcing her to go along with whatever scheme they’re plotting. I have to get her out of there. Maybe I should call the police.’

  �
�Not yet,’ she urged. ‘Look, there’s still a chance you’ll be able to get her alone – a better chance now that the other guy’s gone. And even if you don’t, we could always follow them in my car when they leave and see where they end up. If you do decide to call the cops I need to be long gone before they arrive … and you need to promise that you won’t mention anything about me. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ he agreed, with a sigh.

  And so they resumed their vigil.

  The air was thick with a palpable tension; each minute that passed felt more like an hour. They barely spoke at all – they were just waiting for something, anything to happen.

  And finally, it did.

  Carla grabbed Stephen’s arm, gripping it firmly. ‘Look!’ she whispered.

  Emma had just stepped out of the restaurant and was walking across the foyer. Were they leaving already? Stephen waited to see if the man would follow her, but there was no sign of him.

  ‘She’s got her handbag, but she’s not wearing the wrap which she had around her shoulders,’ observed Carla.

  It dawned on Stephen what that meant. ‘So she’s not actually leaving the hotel, then.’

  They watched as she disappeared around a corner leading off the main foyer.

  ‘She’s heading for the ladies’ room,’ said Carla. ‘This could be your chance – you could catch her when she comes out.’

  Stephen was already on his feet. ‘OK, you wait here,’ he said, setting off after Emma.

  As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of her entering the ladies’ room. Given the gravity of the situation and the very short time that he probably had available to speak to her, he considered following her in, but quickly rejected the idea. If there were other women in there, they might freak out and alert the hotel authorities, and then the game would be well and truly up. No, better to wait and catch her when she came out. He took up position just around the corner and waited.

  After a few minutes, she emerged. As Stephen stepped towards her, her jaw dropped in astonishment. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she gasped.

  ‘Emma … thank God I’ve finally got you alone. Are you alright? What the hell is going on?’