Due Process (7 page)

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 off 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.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Miranda awoke to complete blackness.  She was no longer tied or gagged, but she struggled to breathe.  She sat up slowly, nausea rising up and hovering in her stomach and bile gurgling in her throat. Then her head hit something solid and she ducked quickly.  Reaching out her hands she began to feel around her and soon ascertained that the walls were made from a rough wood. She was in some type of box.  The air was thick and heavy, and her clothes were clinging to her body like sticky tape.  The ground was damp and gritty, like soil.  She felt the panic starting to build as she realized she was underground.

She still wore the white dress, which she quickly remembered had no pockets. As she sat her shoulders slumped and her legs began to shake.  She had no fear of the spiders and insects that crept across her feet and toes, but she was terrified of suffocating.  Her breathing was becoming more laboured and she struggled to calm her heart that was pounding so fast it sounded like a dentist’s drill in her ears.

The panic soon took over and  she began beating and pounding on the wooden roof, hot tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Please. Someone help me,” she sobbed.

The wood was harsh and she felt the needle-sharp shards shredding her palms. She began gasping for air.

Just as she thought she would pass out through lack of oxygen there was a noise above her and a piercing white light caused her to shield her eyes. Strong black hands grabbed her and lifted her swiftly into the brightness.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she began, rubbing her eyes and trying to see where she was and who had saved her.  At first all she could see was a shadow. But gradually as her eyes adjusted she could see that she was in a small room.  Thick curtains covered the tiny window and cloaked the room in a dull light.  Two men stood tall and alert by the doorway, watching her every move.  The man who had saved her towered above her, dreadlocks disappearing behind his massive shoulders, his eyes glinting against his coal-black skin.

She saw the hole in the ground behind her, a cavernous hole shored up with rough hewn planks of wood.

“Why…?” she began, but the huge black man slapped her across the face so hard she felt her teeth rattle.

“I’ll ask the questions, honey,” he said, grabbing a rickety chair and pushing her onto it.  He squatted down so that his eyes were level with hers.

“Now start talking,” he hissed.

“Where’s Simon?” she asked, running her tongue around her teeth to see if any had fallen out.

“Now listen, sweet girl, I will only ask once.  Let me start you off. Your name is not Lucy Cray nor do you own a cosmetics company.  You are Miranda Bell.  I know where you live and what you do.  I know how old you are, what school you went to, where you were born, and what happened to your parents when you were ten years old. I know your grandmother brought you up, and I know where she lives, too.”

He took one of his dreadlocks and began to caress her cheek with it, and then stroked it across her neck and down to the top of her dress.

“What I don’t know,” he continued,  “is how much you know.” He smiled then, showing his discoloured teeth that glistened with his spittle.

She shook her head.

“I don’t…” she began, and then screamed as he lifted her from the chair and threw her back into the hole.

“Let’s see if you can remember after a couple of hours back in there,” he shouted.

The lid fell with a sickening thud.

+   +   +

Miranda didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. She had fallen head first into the hole and remembered nothing after the lid had fallen.  A sticky substance on the side of her face told her she must have hit her head and passed out.   Her whole body ached and she felt bruised and battered.  Her mouth was sore where the beast had hit her, and her ears were ringing and her head thumping.

She tried to make sense of what was happening. She had no idea who the men above her were, or what had happened to Simon.  They seemed to know all about her, but why they should want to was beyond her.  This was her first assignment with the drugs team, so she was an unknown.  Then the answer came to her.  This drugs gang was superior.  They knew all about the team and its members.  Probably had their identities checked regularly. So they weren’t taken by surprise.  But her appearance was out of the normal, which meant something was going on.   Something they didn’t know about.

So they must be the suppliers, she thought. She felt for her watch and was relieved to feel it still on her arm. Hopefully the tracker on the base of the watch was still working. She had no way of checking with no light, so she just had to hope and believe that the team were on their way.