Lost Identity Page 21

  ‘So,’ said Ethan, ‘everything OK? I was a bit worried when you took so long.’

  ‘Yes – all OK now, but I had a couple of issues to deal with.’

  ‘Issues?’

  ‘I had a damned security guard come snooping around, wanting to look under the bathtub.’

  Ethan’s forehead creased in a frown. ‘He must have known something.’

  ‘Don’t worry – I took care of him.’

  Ethan didn’t bother to ask her to elaborate. It had been an inconvenient glitch, but it had been dealt with.

  ‘You seemed to take quite a while to come back in, even after you sent me the signal.’

  ‘I just had a little delay while the moron on the door checked the laptop.’

  ‘He checked it? I hope he didn’t—’

  ‘Relax – when have I ever failed to distract a man’s attention when the situation demanded it?’ She tilted her head and gave a wicked smile.

  Her finely-tuned antennae picked up the momentary flare of desire in his eyes: even a professional like Ethan wasn’t entirely immune to her charms. This was hardly germane to the task in hand, but reassuring to know nevertheless. It reinforced her conviction that, whatever kind of corner she was in, provided her adversaries were male, she could, most likely, use her well-honed feminine wiles to escape.

  ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘it’s just as well that you didn’t take much longer – I had just about exhausted my medical expertise, and if we’d had to chat much longer, there was every chance that Mandelson would have rumbled me. Truth be told, your first “husband” knew rather more about this stuff than I do.’

  ‘I know – he did actually train to be a doctor before realising he could earn a hell of a lot more in this line of work.’ She placed a forefinger on her chin, her expression quizzical. ‘Kind of ironic really – swapping a career saving lives for one being paid to take them.’

  ‘I guess … anyway, did you get the files OK?’

  ‘Yes. I have the memory stick here in my handbag, and the bomb is set to detonate at eight forty.’

  Ethan checked his watch: 7.25 p.m. ‘OK, let’s just linger until everyone is asked to sit down for the presentations and slip away then. That should give us plenty of time to—’

  Natasha let out a scream, her mouth flying open and her hands spread wide, as she looked down in horror at the deep red stain spreading down the front of her dress.

  Chapter 33

  ‘Don’t you think your colleague should have been back by now?’ said Stephen.

  ‘Please be quiet.’ replied Schultz. ‘Robert will need a little time to check out your story, which—’

  ‘We don’t have the luxury of time,’ interrupted Stephen. ‘That bomb could go off at any moment.’

  ‘Enough!’ snapped Schultz. ‘If you think I am going to call off the most important event this hotel has hosted in years – on the basis of a frankly preposterous story which you have spun – then you are very much mistaken.’

  ‘He’s telling the truth,’ insisted Carla. ‘I know that calling off the reception is a big deal, but being responsible for the deaths of many innocent people – including one of the country’s pre-eminent scientists and its most well-loved philanthropist – is surely an even bigger one.’

  ‘Shut up!’ yelled Schultz. ‘We will wait for Robert’s return.’ He pulled off his jacket revealing, to Stephen’s alarm, a handgun in a shoulder holster. Large, damp patches stained his shirt, emanating from his underarm area. He ripped off his tie and flung it on the table.

  Carla tried one more time. ‘But can’t you see that—’

  ‘No! I will not hear any more of this nonsense. We will wait.’

  Carla threw Stephen a look of desperation. He shook his head – it was obvious that Schultz was severely rattled but, equally, it was clear that he wouldn’t be persuaded by their increasingly desperate pleas. They would have to find an alternative strategy.

  They settled back into a tense and uneasy silence. Minutes passed – Stephen had no idea how many. All he knew was that they had to find some way to break this edgy stalemate. He trawled the depths of his brain, searching for a solution, but none was forthcoming.

  In his peripheral vision, he detected a subtle change in Carla’s demeanour. She was clearly trying to attract his attention – giving small jerks of her head and casting her eyes towards something behind him. Anxious not to alert the security chief’s attention, he yawned, using the diversion to turn his head, ever so slowly, to try to ascertain what Carla was trying to show him.

  At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He turned towards her once more, narrowing his eyes in a puzzled frown and giving a slight shake of his head. She glanced at Schultz, obviously concerned that he might pick up on their non-verbal communication. She needn’t have worried: he was gazing at his feet, his face grimly set, as he drummed his fingertips on the table. She switched her attention back to Stephen, widening her eyes as she nodded, once again, towards the wall behind him.

  Checking, once more, that Schultz was still distracted, he followed her gaze. This time he saw it.

  Maybe, just maybe, this would give them a chance.

  ***

  The man who had bumped into Natasha, spilling red wine down the front of her dress, had evidently been taking full advantage of the free drinks on offer.

  ‘Oh my God!’ he said, swaying a little unsteadily. ‘Whassappened? Did I do that?’

  Natasha glared at him in disgust.

  A female voice intervened; the accent sounded New York. ‘Oh Christ, Charles, look what you’ve done to this lady’s beautiful dress.’

  Natasha looked up; she had noticed the woman earlier; with her angular cheekbones, finely shaped nose, and emerald green eyes, she was one of the very few women in the room who came close to rivalling Natasha’s own beauty. The way her long, dark, glossy hair lay against her brilliant white evening gown made her look even more striking. She had obviously not consumed as much alcohol as her other half.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she continued, turning to face Natasha. ‘My husband is such an idiot when he’s had a few drinks.’

  His hand flew to his mouth. ‘Oh, yes … really shorry. Er … can I do anything to—’

  His wife shot him a look which could have silenced a seasoned politician in full flow. ‘The best thing you could do to help is go up to our room and sober up.’

  ‘But I can’t just—’

  ‘Go on, get out of here while I try to help this poor lady.’

  He slunk off.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. ‘Here, come with me to the ladies’ room and let’s try to sponge that stain off. It’s a good thing your dress is red, and not white like mine.’

  Natasha exchanged an anxious glance with Ethan who signalled, with his eyes, that she should get rid of this woman so that they could stay on mission without distraction.

  ‘I don’t think we really have time to—’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said the woman, glancing at her watch. ‘The presentations aren’t due to start for another half an hour, and they’ll probably start late anyway.’ She emphasised the point by gently taking Natasha’s arm.

  She considered her options. The incident had already attracted the attention of several other nearby guests and, if she continued to resist this interfering bitch’s entreaties, it was likely that the exchange would attract even more attention. And attention from other guests was the last thing they needed. It was true that they still had at least half an hour before the presentations were due to start, and quite a bit longer still before the bomb would detonate. Maybe it would be best to go with this woman to the ladies’ room and just try to get rid of her as soon as possible. If the worst came to the worst, she had the stiletto concealed in her evening bag. The weapon was small, but Natasha knew exactly where to insert it to bring about near-instantaneous death.

  ‘OK,’ she said, smiling, ‘let’s go.’

  When they reached the ladies�
�� room, there was no-one else in there.

  ‘Now then,’ said the woman, ‘I think just plain, cold water will be best.’ She grabbed a fluffy, white hand towel from the stack on the shelf above the washbasins and soaked it under the cold tap. ‘What’s your name, by the way?’

  ‘Emma.’

  ‘Oh, nice name – I’m Sophie. Say, I love your accent – you English?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, really? Which part?’

  ‘London,’ she said, figuring that would avoid more pointless, timewasting chat trying to explain where some less-well-known town or city was located.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to visit London,’ said Sophie. ‘My husband’s been there, and he says there’s so much to see: Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the—’

  ‘Yes … look, I’d love to chat, but we really should get back in there as soon as possible.’

  ‘Oh, right … yes, of course. Now then, can you hold your arms up out of the way?’ Natasha laid her bag down on the counter and spread her hands as the other woman began dabbing at the stain on her dress. ‘You here for the conference in your own right, or as a “plus one”?’

  ‘My husband’s a research scientist,’ was her cryptic reply.

  ‘Mine’s an embarrassment,’ she laughed, dabbing away with a lot less urgency than Natasha would have liked, ‘but then you know that’ – Natasha gave a weak smile – ‘but he’s really not like that when he’s sober. Actually,’ she continued, ‘I’m the medical researcher in our family. He’s an accountant.’

  For fuck’s sake, thought Natasha, I don’t need your damned life history here. Just get on with it will you? ‘Great,’ she said. ‘Look, can we try and hurry up a bit – I really should be getting back soon.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ she said. ‘I think we’ve probably got it as good as we’re going to now, anyway.’ She held up the wet towel, much of which had now turned a deep pink colour. ‘See how much we’ve managed to get out.’

  Natasha looked down at her dress; to her eyes, now that it was soaked with water, it looked even worse than before. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that looks much better. Now can we just—?’

  ‘Let’s blot up the water with some dry towels,’ said the woman, grabbing a fresh one from the pile, and pressing it against the wet patch on Natasha’s dress.

  ‘Thank you – I’m sure that’ll be fine now.’

  ‘You got kids?’ persisted the woman, as she continued dabbing away.

  ‘No – no time for kids in our busy lives,’ replied Natasha, her tone casual.

  ‘Oh, too bad,’ said the other woman as she continued fussing and dabbing.

  OK, I don’t have time for this crap, thought Natasha. She glanced towards the door; still no-one else had come in. If she was going to do it, she needed to do it now.

  She turned to see where she had placed her handbag; it was within easy reach. It would be only be a matter of seconds to get the stiletto, drag this troublesome bitch into one of the cubicles and finish her off. She wouldn’t want the body discovered too soon, though. She’d have to lock the cubicle from the inside and somehow get out while leaving the door locked. As was common for public toilets in the USA, there was a very large gap between the bottom of the cubicle door and the floor. Given her slender figure, she judged that she would probably be able to slither underneath. If that didn’t work, she’d have to scramble over the top of the door. But given the level of fitness and strength which she always worked hard to maintain, that should not be a problem. If she pulled her dress up right around her waist – to free her legs from the constraint of the slim-fitting garment – scaling the door should not present too much difficulty.

  What was a problem, though, was that it would be impossible to do the deed without splattering her already-ruined dress with copious amounts of blood. Her best bet, she reasoned, would be to rush back to her room, using one of the clean towels to conceal the blood, and change into a clean dress, before re-entering the reception to catch up with Ethan before they would both slip away.

  Natasha shifted her stance slightly, positioning herself ready to lunge for the stiletto.

  ‘There,’ said the woman, ‘I think that’ll do it.’ She stood back, looking Natasha up and down. ‘By the time that’s dried off a bit more it shouldn’t notice too badly.’

  Is that it? thought Natasha, allowing herself to relax a little. If only you knew just how close you came. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Now I really need to get back to my husband.’

  The other woman’s eyes continued to pass up and down Natasha’s body. ‘Great figure, by the way. You work out? Diet? I always struggle with my weight.’

  This, Natasha thought, was hard to believe, as the other woman’s figure was easily a match for her own. But now, the meddling bitch had signed her own death warrant; there was simply no time for any more of this shit.

  ‘Oh, well, a bit of both, actually,’ said Natasha, her tone casual. She tensed, ready to strike.

  Chapter 34

  The sign below the red button mounted on the wall read ‘Emergency Evacuation Signal’. Alongside it was a microphone mounted in a cradle. If he could just get past Schultz, maybe he could raise the alarm himself. Before he could do that, though, there was the small matter of the handgun holstered just below the security chief’s left arm.

  How much time did he have left? Unfortunately, this was one aspect of the assassination plan, of which he, himself, had previously been an integral part, which just would not come to him, no matter how much he tried to trawl the fragmented memories which had returned to him. Had there even been a set timetable, or had this part been left flexible, according to the circumstances on the night? He just didn’t know. The only conclusion he could reach was that he should act just as fast as humanly possible.

  He needed to create a distraction of some sort …

  ***

  ‘Well, I’d love to chat some more,’ said the woman, ‘but I think I’d better go and check on my husband before the presentations start.’

  She flung the soiled towels into the waste bin and, to Natasha’s surprise, leaned forward and kissed her on both cheeks. Considering that she had just been on the very brink of killing this woman, Natasha was completely disoriented by this unexpected gesture.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice calm and level, while the adrenaline was still pumping hard and her heart racing, ‘good idea.’

  The woman gave a little wiggle of her fingers which passed as a wave. ‘Well, maybe we can chat some more after the presentations are finished.’

  No fucking chance, thought Natasha. ‘Oh, that would be lovely,’ she said, forcing a smile.

  When the woman left, Natasha let out a huge exhalation of breath, leaning forward with both hands on the counter facing the mirror. As her heartbeat began to settle, she stared at her own image, willing herself to look calm and composed. Was she ready to re-enter the reception? Not really: her cheeks were a little flushed and the dress looked hardly any better than before that wretched woman had attacked it with wet towels

  She checked her watch: 7.50 p.m. There simply wasn’t time to go and change now, so she settled for just giving the dress another few dabs with a dry towel; that would have to do.

  Just as she made ready to leave the room and re-enter the reception, the door opened and a rather large, silver-haired woman, probably in her late sixties, came in. As she made eye contact with Natasha she smiled but, as she glanced down and registered the state of the dress, the smile changed to a frown.

  ‘Oh, are you alright my dear? Whatever happened to your beautiful dress?’

  ‘Oh, just a little accident with some red wine. It’ll be fine when it dries out a bit.’

  ‘I’d offer you one of my evening gowns, but … well, it’s been many years since I had a figure like yours.’ She emphasised the point by running a hand over her generous stomach, giving a little giggle.

  By this time, every scrap of inane conversation was costing precious
seconds. She had to go now.

  ‘No really,’ said Natasha, grabbing her evening bag from where it lay on the counter, ‘I’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.’ She virtually barged past the woman in her haste to get to the door.

  ‘Well really …’ she heard an indignant voice say, as the door swung shut behind her.

  She paused for a few seconds as she entered the lobby, taking a deep breath before exhaling, slowly and steadily, as she endeavoured to compose herself for the final stages of the mission. She forced herself not to rush as she traversed the lobby. Instead she adopted her customary elegant and unhurried walk, searching left and right with her eyes to see whether the people around her appeared to be paying any attention to the state of her dress. She attracted a tentative smile from a tall, middle-aged man – but she was used to that kind of male attention all the time. Reassuringly, no-one seemed to be staring at the dress. Maybe it didn’t really look as bad as she had thought, especially as it was now starting to dry out.

  As she approached the bag-check area, the security guy smiled. ‘Sorry to trouble you ma’am, but I have to take a look in your bag again …rules you see.’

  ‘Of course, she said,’ flipping the bag open. ‘As you can see it’s—’

  Her words froze in her mouth as a dead weight sank in the pit of her stomach.

  It wasn’t her handbag.

  ***

  As Stephen locked eyes with Carla, she somehow understood, without any exchange of words, exactly what he was thinking. She gave an almost-imperceptible nod of acknowledgement. After weighing up her options for a minute or two, she made her play.

  ‘It’s so hot in here,’ she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, ‘I’m really feeling quite faint.’ She looked at Schultz. ‘Can’t you turn the temperature down a few degrees?’