Lost Identity Page 26

  Chapter 43

  Kelly Malone turned up for her late shift at 2 p.m. As she walked through the front entrance of the hospital, she gave her customary greeting to the girl on the reception desk.

  ‘Hi Suzie – how’s it going?’

  ‘Good … you?’

  ‘Yeah, OK, I guess.’

  ‘Hey,’ said the girl on the desk, a sparkle of mirth in her eyes, ‘you got a new guy after you?’

  She laughed. ‘Not that I know of. Why?’

  ‘You sure? You’re not two-timing Rick, are you?’

  Kelly tilted her head to one side, drawing her eyebrows together in a disbelieving frown. ‘Rick and I are rock solid … you know that. What are you on about, anyway?’

  ‘This guy came in earlier, asking after you. Big guy … quite a hunk actually, but probably a bit older than your usual type.’

  Kelly’s eyes widened and her mouth flew open. ‘What do you mean, “my usual type”? Cheeky bitch!’

  The banter between them was good-humoured; both knew each other well enough not to take offence at anything the other said.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Suzie, ‘he left something for you.’ She reached below the counter and retrieved a bulky, brown, padded envelope.

  ‘Weird … did he give his name?’

  ‘No … just said he was a friend. Oh, come on … the suspense is killing me. Just open it, will you?’

  Kelly ripped open the envelope. Her jaw dropped as she withdrew the contents: two wads of banknotes; the sleeve on each bore the handwritten label ‘$10,000’.

  ‘What the …?’ murmured Suzie.

  ‘I … I have no idea,’ whispered Kelly.

  ‘Wait … there’s a note,’ breathed Suzie, handing it to Kelly.

  She began to read, out loud.

  Kelly,

  I just wanted to thank you for everything you have done for me. I can’t begin to explain everything that’s happened but I know who I am now, and I have to go far from here to make a new life. I won’t ever see you again, but I’ll be eternally grateful for your care and your friendship. The first $10,000 is to help you and Rick get started in your new home. The second $10,000 is for Doctor Holt’s family, if indeed he has one – we never spoke about such things. If he doesn’t have next of kin, then the whole $20,000 is yours.

  Please don’t ever try to contact me. I can’t explain – it’s complicated – but I have to disappear completely.

  Thanks again.

  ‘Stephen’

  The two women looked at each other in wide-eyed disbelief.

  ‘Who the hell is this guy?’ breathed Suzie.

  ‘He’s … well, he was a patient of mine.’

  ‘But why the cloak and dagger stuff … was he involved in Doctor Holt’s murder?’

  ‘No, of course not … he was just …’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘And why does he sign his name in inverted commas?’

  Kelly sighed. ‘Like he says … “it’s complicated”.’

  ***

  Kyle Richards gazed at the sparkling stone which graced the ring in the small presentation box which he held open on his lap. It wasn’t a real diamond – he could never afford something like that. But Sylvia would have loved it; he could imagine how proudly she would have shown it to the other girls in the club and, of course, to her best friend, Carla. A tear welled forth and trickled down his cheek as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that Sylvia was gone, that all his dreams of building a new life with her as his wife were now in tatters.

  What made it even more agonising was that there was no reason, no possible explanation as to why his beautiful girlfriend had been so savagely gunned down. The police had no answers, either – they could establish no motive, and no-one had been arrested in connection with this senseless murder. He knew that Sylvia had become involved with some pretty undesirable people, but that was by accident, not design. He could not bring himself to believe that she had actually done anything to warrant such dire retribution.

  It had been his intention, when they got married, to take her away from Miami, and the whole shady gang scene – to start a new life far away. That dream was now in shreds; nothing could bring her back. But now, he craved answers – some explanation, some way to make sense of it all.

  His introspective reflection was interrupted by the strident trill of his doorbell. He let out a deep sigh, closed the ring box, and laid it on the table in front of him. Wiping the dampness away from his cheek with the back of his hand, he went to open the front door. He was confronted by a rather scruffy-looking young boy – probably no more than ten or eleven years old.

  ‘You Kyle Richards?’ asked the boy.

  ‘Yeah … and who would you be?’

  ‘Got a parcel for you,’ said the boy producing, from behind his back, a fat, brown, padded envelope.

  ‘What’s this all about? You ain’t UPS or DHL – who gave you—?’

  But the boy had dropped the envelope at Kyle’s feet and was now sprinting away as fast as his skinny legs would carry him. Kyle picked up the package, which bore his name, handwritten. The envelope felt firm and quite heavy but, as he probed it with his fingers, he could detect no hard edges: it felt as though it contained only papers. He shook his head in bewilderment, closed the door, and made his way back to the couch where he had been previously sitting.

  Tearing open the package he was astonished to find two wads of banknotes, each enclosed in a paper sleeve with the handwritten inscription ‘$10,000’.

  ‘What the heck—?’ he breathed out loud.

  He looked inside the envelope and saw a single sheet of paper, which he withdrew. It was a typed note … at the bottom was Carla’s signature.

  Kyle,

  I can’t tell you how devastated I am by what happened to Sylvia. I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now. The fact that Sylvia’s funeral has had to be delayed while the authorities carry out an autopsy must have made things even worse – if that is possible.

  For reasons which are too complicated to explain, I have to leave Miami for good. Before I go, though, I need to tell you something – I know what happened to her.

  You know full well that she – and I – got involved with some pretty bad people, but she never did anything to cross them and that’s not why she died. Sadly she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and became an innocent victim of something else entirely.

  I wish I could explain more, but really, I can’t. To do so might put other lives in danger, so all I can say is that she did nothing to deserve such a fate.

  I know money can’t begin to compensate for the loss of such a wonderful person, but I’d like you to be able to at least give her a fitting send-off, so use as much of the $20,000 as you need for this. Whatever is left over is for you to use as you wish.

  You’re probably wondering how I have come by that sort of money. I’m afraid that’s another part of a very complicated story which I just can’t tell you, except to say it wasn’t through my doing anything criminal.

  Sadly, I won’t be able to attend the funeral of my very best friend. In fact, I can’t ever come back to Miami, and you will never see me again. You know, though, that my thoughts and prayers will always be with you – and Sylvia.

  All my love, Carla x

  He re-read the note several times. In some ways it raised more questions than answers. He desperately wanted to see Carla, to talk to her, to understand. But he knew her well, for she and Sylvia had been like sisters. He knew that she wouldn’t take off like that, or leave such a cryptic explanation, unless she absolutely had to.

  At least he now knew for sure that Sylvia had done nothing to bring this terrible fate upon herself. That was some small comfort. But the fact that she had lost her life for absolutely no reason was just … such a waste … so utterly senseless. He didn’t know what to think – his emotions were in utter turmoil. He needed time to digest what he had learned … to try to make some sense of it all.
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  He put his head in his hands and began to weep.

  Chapter 44

  ‘James Connolly,’ said Carla as she gazed at Stephen’s new Canadian passport. ‘I like it.’

  ‘You think I look like a “James” then?’

  She tilted her head as she looked at him, appraisingly. ‘Yeah … and the new haircut suits you, too. Not sure about the beard though.’

  They were sitting in the departure lounge at Miami International Airport waiting to board an Air Canada flight to Toronto. They had laid low in Fort Lauderdale for a few weeks before attempting the potentially hazardous manoeuvre of exiting the USA. Stephen’s new ‘buzz cut’ and neatly trimmed beard had radically altered his appearance and, although he was a bundle of nerves as he passed through passport control, it had all gone without a hitch.

  Carla, too, had a new identity and a new look. Her hair was shorter, and coloured a medium blonde tone, with contrasting lowlights – perhaps a little unusual for a Latina, but by no means exceptional

  Stephen studied her new passport – also Canadian. ‘“Juanita Sanchez Ruiz”,’ he read out. ‘Pretty.’

  She smiled. ‘Thanks … actually, I kind of like it too.’

  Stephen – or James, as he kept reminding himself – placed his hand on top of hers. ‘Just one more hurdle – when we go through immigration in Toronto – and then we’re home and dry.’

  She nodded, absently, her eyes drifting off to some faraway place.

  ‘What will you do when we get there?’ he said, gently pulling her back to the here and now.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have any living family, and the few friends I have … or had … all live in Miami. Obviously, I can’t come back here.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I guess I’m starting from scratch.’

  The mention of her friends stirred in him a pang of remorse. He squeezed her hand gently. ‘I’m so sorry about your friend, Sylvia. Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do … no-one we can help?’

  ‘She had no living family either and, as far as I know, I was her only close girlfriend. I think helping Kyle with the funeral expenses was all we could really do … though it seems little enough.’ A tear welled over and began to trickle down her cheek. She grabbed a tissue from her handbag and wiped it away.

  He paused for a moment before whispering, ‘Too many innocent people died over this thing.’

  She nodded, ‘But at least Professor Mandelson survived, and his discovery will save many more lives.’

  They both sat in silence for a few seconds, reflecting on that thought.

  ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘we’ve done all we can now. It’s time for us to disappear. What about you? What will you do when we get to Canada?’

  He shrugged. ‘Everything I thought I knew about my previous life was a lie. It all seemed so real, though, especially Emma … she was …’ His voice tailed off as he fought to contain the emotion which threatened to burst forth. After a couple of seconds, he continued. ‘As for my actual previous life, I’m not sure I really want to learn more.’ He fell silent once more; she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. At length, he added, ‘As far as I know, I have no family or friends to consider, so I guess – like you – I’m starting from scratch.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, her eyes holding his now, ‘if we’re both starting from scratch, what about starting from scratch together? I mean … we could give that a try, couldn’t we? You know, sort of see how it goes?’

  Even her olive complexion could not hide the flush in her cheeks.

  ‘You know?’ he said. ‘I’d like that … I’d like that very much.’

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Stephen and Carla – or James and Juanita as they were now known – were settling into their new, and quieter, life in Toronto.

  Juanita was fulfilling her dream of becoming an artist. She wasn’t making huge amounts of money from it: most of her paintings – which, typically, took several weeks, or even months, to complete – sold for around two or three thousand dollars. But she was happy – really happy – to have left her former life behind and be making a living, however modest, from doing what she loved, and to be sharing her life with a man who, whatever his previous transgressions, was a caring and compassionate companion.

  Much of James’s memory had returned, particularly of his earlier career when he had trained to be a doctor, but some of the darker corners of his subsequent life as a paid assassin remained a closed book. It was probably better that way.

  He would have liked to rebuild a career as a doctor, but to do so would have involved training and qualifying anew, and there would be a significant risk of his true identity emerging. Instead, he took a job as a security guard with a company delivering cash payrolls in armoured trucks to various companies. These people didn’t ask too many questions about one’s former life and the pay wasn’t too bad.

  Strangely enough, he still had no recollection of his real name, but, in the end, did that really matter? He was just happy to be making an honest living and to be with the woman with whom he had now fallen deeply in love.

  ***

  It was Saturday evening. The two of them had settled down to watch TV with a home-delivered pizza and a bottle of Chardonnay. They planned to watch a pay-per-view movie, but decided first to catch up on the latest news.

  Most of the news was, as usual, pretty depressing: continuing unrest in the Middle East, another terrorist attack in Europe, hurricanes in the Caribbean, an earthquake in Mexico and—

  The next item made James freeze, the slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. As he absorbed the details of the story, he laid the food down: he no longer had any appetite.

  A junior reporter for the New York Times, Julia Turner – just twenty-four years old – had been found murdered in Central Park. Now, murders in New York City weren’t exactly unusual, but it was the manner of the killing which had caught his attention. While the police had, apparently, been pretty tight-lipped about the details, the TV station had learned from ‘its exclusive sources’ that the victim had been shot once in the chest and once through her ear.

  Now, it wouldn’t be especially unusual for a murderer who brought his victim down with a body shot to finish the job with a head shot … but through the ear?’ He knew of only one person whose M.O. matched that, and he was one of, if not the, most highly-paid and highly-feared professional assassins in the world. That person – a former associate of his – could command a fee running into tens of millions of dollars for a single hit. Why would anyone pay that sort of money to eliminate a rookie reporter? Unless of course that reporter was onto something big … very big.

  He looked across at Juanita, who showed no reaction at all to the story. Why should she? As he regarded her pretty profile he was suddenly wracked with indecision. Should he just push this news item to the back of his mind and continue to enjoy his comfortable new life in Canada, or should he try to find out what was behind this disturbing report?

  THE END.

  Author’s Note

  Most of the action in this book takes place in and around the closely-linked cities of Miami, Florida and nearby Miami Beach. Many of the locations which feature in the book are real: for example, Loews Hotel, the Delano Hotel, the Lago Mar Hotel, and the Miami Marriott Biscayne Bay Hotel. However, I have also created a number of fictitious establishments: The Palm Grove Hotel, Eduardo’s Restaurant, El Refugio Motel, La Mariposa restaurant, and the Marsden Medical School. I did so because the plot required some pretty unpleasant events to unfold in some of these locations – I had no wish to besmirch the reputations of genuine establishments!

  The medical phenomena described in the book may, or may not, be possible in real life. Who knows? As Doctor Holt says in the book, ‘… the human brain is an extremely complex organ, about which there is much we still don’t understand’.

  Ray Green

  Also by Ray Green

  Buyout – A Roy Groves Thriller (1)


  For five ordinary guys and one rather extraordinary woman, the only escape from the corporate rat-race is to buy the company they’re working for: take it all to a new level, save hundreds of jobs and make some serious money.

  But it quickly becomes clear that nothing is as easy as it seems. The bid is quickly undercut as twisted corporate politics and personal vendettas take over.

  When the buyout becomes all or nothing for the management buyout team, it all spins out of control: marriages fall apart, lurid secrets are discovered, life savings are spent on the stock market, illegal insider dealing becomes a matter of fact and blackmail, theft, betrayal and manipulation are the new rules of the game.

  A once-in-a-life-time opportunity turns into a lurid nightmare.

  BUYOUT is a gripping and compulsive page-turner about the power of money to unveil the deepest in human nature. It’s also a story about chasing one extraordinary dream. At an extraordinary price.

  Also by Ray Green

  Payback – A Roy Groves Thriller (2)

  Roy Groves is Operations Director of a successful company manufacturing dashboard instruments for luxury cars.

  A fatal motorway fire is traced back to a fault in the product supplied by Roy’s company. Was it a tragic accident or something more sinister? As Roy and his colleagues battle to establish the cause of the fire, and save the company from bankruptcy, they discover that they have been the victims of sabotage.