Lost Identity Read online

  A list of one hundred and twenty-seven files appeared. She plugged in a USB flash drive, highlighted all of them, and clicked on ‘Copy’.

  Copying 127 files – time remaining 1 min 45 seconds.

  As she waited for the copy process to complete, she checked the time: 7.10 p.m. The presentations were due to start at eight: so far, things were nicely on schedule.

  When the copy process was successfully completed, she sent a text message to Lara, who had made an excuse to stay late at the lab that evening.

  ‘I have the files – delete backups now.’

  In spite of Professor Mandelson’s fiercely protective attitude towards his files, the IT department at the University had insisted they must be backed up on the main system there, encrypted with security measures which were rather more sophisticated than the professor’s passwords. Lara, whose IT skills were considerable, had tried repeatedly, but failed, to find a way to access the contents of these files on the main system. She had, however, found a way to delete them when the time was right. That time was now.

  Natasha waited, heart racing, for a response to her text message. Just two minutes later, it came.

  ‘Done.’

  Now it was time to press ahead with the next phase of the plan.

  ***

  ‘Impossible,’ said Schultz. ‘There cannot be a bomb. The entire room was swept for explosives and weapons this very morning, and I’ve had guards on all the doors since then. No-one could possibly have got into the room and planted a bomb during that time.’

  ‘It’s not in the function room,’ said Stephen. His memory was flooding back now.

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Schultz.

  ‘Do you have a set of floor plans for the hotel?’

  ‘Well, yes … of course.’

  ‘Get them.’

  ‘They are on the computer system.’

  ‘Can you bring them up on that machine?’ said Stephen, indicating a large-screen computer on a desk in the corner of the room.

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  ‘Please, just bear with me … we don’t have much time.’

  Schultz shook his head in puzzlement, but relented, following Stephen over to the machine.

  ‘Call up the ground floor layout,’ said Stephen. Schultz sat down in front of the desk and, after about twenty seconds of moving and clicking the mouse, he brought up the floor plan.

  ‘Now …’ mused Stephen, studying the plan for a few moments before extending a forefinger towards the screen, ‘is that the function room where the reception is being held?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So,’ said Stephen, pointing at a specific location within the function room, ‘the top table where Professor Mandelson, Bob Gench and the other VIPs will be for the presentations would be about … there.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so, but what is the—?’

  Stephen didn’t let him finish. ‘OK, now can you bring up the plan for the floor above?’

  Schultz sighed, raising his eyebrows but, a few moments later, the plan of the floor above was there, in a separate window on the screen.

  ‘Can you superimpose the two?’ said Stephen, urging the security chief on.

  ‘I … er … yes, I think so.’

  Schultz clicked and tapped away for a few moments until he had succeeded in overlaying one plan upon the other. ‘So what exactly are you driving at?’

  Stephen pointed at the guest room directly above the location of the top table in the function room. ‘Which room is that – the one right there?’

  Schultz squinted at the screen for a few moments before looking up and pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose a little. ‘It’s the Miami Suite … why?’

  ‘Now check where the man claiming to be Stephen Lewis is staying.’

  Schultz moved over to the other computer in the room and called up a guest list. After a few seconds he turned and looked up at Stephen; for the first time Stephen thought he could detect fear in the eyes which peered through the thick lenses of those round glasses. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because that’s where I was supposed to plant the bomb … and where my replacement will now have done so.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Schultz.

  ‘The bomb is in the Miami Suite. It’s hidden underneath the bathtub. It’s a special type of bomb, designed to direct the main force of the blast downwards. If it detonates, it will bring the ceiling down on everyone at the top table, and probably many others seated nearby.’

  ‘That’s … no, surely—’

  ‘It could even bring down that entire side of the hotel,’ added Stephen, anxious to capitalise on the security chief’s obvious uncertainty.

  A myriad beads of perspiration sprung forth on Schultz’s forehead and all over his bald pate. His eyes darted this way and that as he grappled with the fear and indecision which had evidently gripped him.

  ‘You have to act NOW,’ insisted Stephen.

  Stephen’s urgent tone seemed finally to galvanise Schultz into action. ‘Robert,’ he snapped at the security guard who had been silently overseeing the whole exchange, ‘get up to the Miami Suite right now, and check whether there is any truth in what this man is telling us.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he replied and, in a moment, he was gone.

  ***

  She decided to set the bomb to explode at 8.40 p.m. That would ensure that the main targets were in place, directly below the bomb, and allow enough time for the two of them to slip away before it detonated. A few taps and swipes on the screen of her smartphone, and it was done. Now all she needed was to—

  The doorbell rang.

  Shit! Who the fuck could this be? She really did not need any complications at this critical stage of the mission.

  ‘I’m really sorry to disturb you, ma’am – Hotel Security.’

  She had already recovered her composure and immediately turned on the wide-eyed charm. ‘Oh, goodness … well what can I do for you … Robert?’ She figured that using his first name – read from his name badge – would help relax the situation.

  ‘I’m afraid that I need to carry out a quick check on your room, if that’s OK.’

  ‘Right now?’ she said. ‘Only I’m just getting ready for the reception downstairs and I haven’t quite finished doing my makeup.’

  His eyes performed an involuntary scan up and down her whole body. It was quite evident that he considered her makeup – and, indeed, everything else – looked just fine.

  ‘I’m really sorry – orders, you see,’ he said.

  Any attempt to refuse him entry would surely look suspicious; she smiled and stepped to one side.

  ‘Then you’d better come in.’

  ‘I need to check the bathroom, ma’am.’

  Her heart skipped a beat, but her outward demeanour didn’t falter. This development might, however, require some rapid modification to the plan.

  When he moved through to the bathroom, he immediately made for the bathtub, bending down to examine the panel at its side. It was secured in place with eight screws. ‘Hmm – I’m going to need to go get a screwdriver ma’am. I need to get this panel off.’

  ‘Oh, well actually, my husband always travels with a small toolkit. He’s such a Do-It-Yourself nut that he just can’t bear to be without it, even when we’re travelling. Let me see,’ she said, bending down alongside the security guard, leaning in closely so that he could smell her perfume. ‘You just need something to undo those screws?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘just a regular cross-head screwdriver.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he has one of those … let me go and see.’

  As she stood up, she allowed her breast to brush, ever so lightly, against his arm. He gave a nervous smile.

  She went back into the bedroom and opened the door to the closet, punching in the four-digit code to the safe which was inside. It took her but a few seconds to withdraw the Glock 9mm pistol and screw the silencer in place. The screwdriver which the security
guard had requested lay on a shelf above the safe; she picked it up.

  Moving back into the bathroom she held the gun at her side, concealing it with her body while she extended her other hand, offering the screwdriver.

  ‘Will this do?’ she said.

  ‘Perfect,’ replied the guard, smiling as he took the tool from her. He turned back towards the bath panel and set about loosening the first screw.

  Sorry Robert, she mouthed, silently, as she raised the pistol and levelled it at the back of his head.

  Chapter 31

  The delay caused by the unexpected intervention of the security guard was a complication she could well have done without. Every second that she, and Mandelson’s laptop, were out of the function room increased the probability of their plan being discovered. She just had to hope that Ethan would be able to hold the professor’s attention long enough for her to return to the room and replace the laptop in its case without being noticed.

  As she stepped into the lobby, she stopped for a moment to take her phone from her handbag and send a text message. She waited for around 15 seconds and then sent it again. She knew that Ethan would have his phone on silent in his pocket, but would be easily able to detect the vibration as the two messages were received. This was the signal to alert him that she was about to come back in.

  The bag-check guy seemed more interested in examining Natasha’s cleavage than the contents of the handbag, which received only the most cursory of inspections. ‘Hey, didn’t you already come in a while ago?’ he said, doing his best, but failing, to disguise where he was looking.

  ‘Well, yes I did. I’m surprised you noticed.’ She leaned forward to afford him a slightly better view.

  ‘Oh, ma’am,’ he said, ‘… I always notice a classy lady like you.’

  She tilted her head and gave a coy smile. ‘Well that’s so kind of you to say so.’

  Having gone through the motions of inspecting her evening bag, he turned his attention to the bag containing the laptop. He clearly wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, but he wasn’t completely clueless. As he unzipped the bag and withdrew the machine, his face creased in a puzzled frown; she could almost hear the cogs whirring.

  ‘Um …’ he began, laying a hand on the laptop ‘You didn’t have this with you earlier, did you?’

  ‘No … it’s my husband’s. He needs it for his presentation this evening, but he didn’t want to be carrying it around all evening so he left it in our room. I just went back to get it for him.’ She was counting on the likelihood that the men on the door would have no clue as to who was giving presentations and who was not.

  ‘Oh … got you,’ he affirmed.

  He flipped up the lid of the laptop and pressed the power button.

  Shit! She hadn’t expected him to actually power the machine up. When he saw Mandelson’s photograph on the welcome screen, the game would be well and truly up, for he looked nothing like the man she had come in with earlier – the man she called her husband. She began frantically weighing up her options. Frankly, none of them looked good.

  She had already noted that both men on the door sported the tell-tale bulge, under their jackets, of a handgun in a shoulder holster, and the only weapon she had on her was a small stiletto, concealed in a slim compartment which ran along the bottom of her evening bag, masquerading as part of the hinge between the two halves of the bag. Any confrontation with two armed heavies was never going to end well. Maybe she should just abort the mission and run. Surely they wouldn’t shoot an unarmed woman running away from them? But the retribution from her paymasters for the failure of the mission would be severe – probably worse than being shot dead there and then. Right now, though, making a run for it seemed the only credible option.

  While the guard’s attention was, for a few moments, on the laptop rather than her body, she discreetly lifted her right foot behind her, reaching down to slip off her high-heeled shoe. He didn’t seem to notice – she swiftly repeated the manoeuvre with the other shoe. She tensed, ready to run.

  The screen lit up, and the professor’s smiling face appeared. This was the moment …

  ***

  ‘Can’t you see you’re wasting time?’ pleaded Stephen. ‘You need to get everyone out of the hotel.’

  ‘Seriously?’ hissed Schultz. ‘This reception has taken weeks to organise. It is being attended by many of the most brilliant minds in the medical scientific community – not to mention the wealthiest philanthropist in the entire country. Do you honestly think I am going to call the whole thing off and evacuate the hotel, on the say-so of a man who doesn’t even know his own name?’

  ‘Please,’ pleaded Stephen, ‘you have to believe me … I know it all sounds incredible, but it’s true. Over the last couple of days we’ve seen innocent bystanders murdered by these people, just because they happened to get in the way.’

  Schultz put his head back and gazed at the ceiling, his cheeks distended as he blew air through pursed lips. ‘If I do this, and it turns out to be a false alarm, the reputation of the hotel will be ruined … and my career will be finished.’

  ‘But what if you don’t do it … and it’s not a false alarm?’ said Stephen, desperately trying to goad the man into action. ‘Can you imagine how that would look?’

  Perspiration was streaming down the security chief’s face now. He loosened his tie and undid his top shirt button. ‘I’m sorry but … a few days ago you didn’t even know who you were, and now … you expect me to believe that you’re a paid assassin? But that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart? That your wife – who now isn’t your wife – is also an assassin? Put yourself in my position, Doctor … whatever your name is. You have had a severe head injury – I don’t believe even you know what is fact and what is fantasy, so how do you expect me to?’

  Stephen hung his head. How could he convince this man that he was telling the truth?

  Carla intervened. She stepped right up to Schultz, looking him squarely in the eye. ‘Look, Mr Schultz, I know that Stephen has suffered memory loss and confusion, but I haven’t. Everything he’s telling you now is true. These people have chased us, attacked us, and tried to kill us. And it’s not just us – as Stephen has told you, we have seen innocent people murdered by these bastards. If you don’t act now, many more will die.’

  Schultz took a step backward, evidently intimidated by Carla’s invasion of his personal space and the fierce determination in her eyes. ‘H-how do I know you’re not just saying what he wants you to say?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake,’ she screamed, ‘why the fuck would I do that? My best friend just got murdered – for no reason other than that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ She clenched her fists in frustration. ‘Unless you do something right now … you will be responsible for many more deaths.’

  Schultz pressed his fingers against his temples, shaking his head as he grappled with the overload of information which was assailing him. Was he about to relent?

  After a few seconds, he stood up straight and panned his gaze from Stephen to Carla in turn. ‘We will wait for Robert to report back.’ His voice held a chilling air of finality.

  Chapter 32

  Natasha needn’t have worried: the security guard evidently did not recognise the image on the screen as the keynote speaker – nor did he question that it was anyone other than her husband. He closed the laptop down and slipped it back into its case.

  ‘Thank you ma’am – sorry to have troubled you, but we have to check everything really carefully, you see.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ she cooed, gazing at him, smiling invitingly, even as her own racing heartbeat began to slow a little.

  She was expecting him to comment on the fact that she was suddenly around four inches shorter, and was desperately trying to fabricate a plausible reason to have stepped out of her shoes at that particular moment. However, he didn’t seem even to notice. Perhaps the fact that she measured five feet nine inches, even in her bare feet, helped. S
he breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped her feet back into her shoes, slung the laptop bag over her shoulder, and made for the entrance to the room.

  It was critical, now, that Professor Mandelson did not see her enter the room. Although she had sent her partner the signal to distract him while she entered, she was concerned that the delay at the entrance while the laptop was checked might have upset the timing. She entered the room tentatively, her eyes searching for the two men.

  All was well: Ethan had managed to continue to keep Mandelson in a position such that his back was towards the door. As he looked over the professor’s shoulder and made eye contact with Natasha, he gave an almost-imperceptible nod. She moved swiftly towards the coat rack, stealing another glance towards where the two men were chatting, before slipping the laptop back into Professor Mandelson’s bag. She hung Ethan’s – now empty – bag on the rack and covered it with her wrap.

  It had been a tricky few moments, but Natasha had dealt with it with typical professionalism. By the time she approached Professor Mandelson and Ethan, she was fully back in control and oozing charm once more.

  ‘How do you girls manage to spend so long in the ladies’ room?’ said Ethan, his tone light and jovial.

  ‘Oh, I got chatting with a charming lady from Seattle named Jolene. She’s …’ – Natasha glanced around the room, her eyes apparently searching for the fictitious Jolene – ‘oh, I can’t actually see her just now.’

  ‘Anyway,’ continued Ethan, turning to Professor Mandelson, ‘it’ll soon be time for the speeches and presentations, so you should probably go and get ready now.’

  ‘Yes … I should,’ he replied. ‘Well, delighted to meet you Emma. Perhaps we can chat a little more after the reception.’

  ‘I’d love that,’ she purred, tilting her head a little and flashing a radiant smile. Actually, she thought, as she watched the unsuspecting professor head off to collect his laptop, there won’t be any ‘after the reception’ for you.