Hidden Agemda (Kate Diamond Adventure) (5 page)

Max was working on getting Kate an invite as well as an alternate identity through his vast underground network. The cruise-ship-turned-research-vessel was already en route to a safe place where it could rendezvous with a helicopter carrying Kate’s backup team, which, against Kate’s wishes, included her parents.

Gideon had already loaded the ski-cycle on the helicopter and was sending a care package with the necessary gadgets and some self-heating clothing down to Kate.

Everything was running smoothly and Kate didn’t know whether to feel nervous or elated. This was the biggest job Max had ever asked her to do and she wanted to prove to him, the FBI, and maybe even herself, that she was good enough to pull it off.

Kate’s phone vibrated on the table signaling another text. Her throat tightened as she read it.
 

Sucking her bottom lip between her front teeth, she looked up at her father. “How long do you think it will take to pull this all together?”

Vic shrugged. “We’re all retired and looking for something to do so it shouldn’t take too long. Why?

“According to this text … I leave for Antarctica tomorrow.”

The ice hotel rose out of the snow covered ground like a gigantic igloo. The two story high front was constructed out of two-foot wide ice blocks that sparkled in the sun like oversized ice cubes. Above that, a roof of snow sloped down to form the sides of the hotel.

The double doors—made from real glass, not ice—opened and Kate did a double-take at her reflection as her white fur boots carried her inside. Her hair, now a sleek jet-black color, had been pulled into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. Her dark eyes peeked out from underneath an ermine fur hat, which matched the hood and cuffs of her snow-white jacket.
 

The hotel lobby had an inviting aqua glow, even if it was a bit cave-like. The cathedral-like walls sloped upwards to a peak at the top. Along the sides were rows of round ice columns. The lobby furniture was made from ice and there was even an ice chandelier hanging from the very center of the room.

Julian Crowder glided forward to meet her in a snowsuit that resembled a tuxedo. Kate almost laughed out loud. The outfit made him look like an overstuffed penguin instead of giving him the suave, sophisticated impression he was probably hoping for.

“Ahh … Miss Hunt. So lovely to make your acquaintance.” He took Kate’s outstretched hand, which was clad in white leather edged with ermine, but instead of shaking it, he bowed over it brushing his lips against the glove.
 

“What? No hot chocolate or whiskey to greet me after that horrendous journey?” Kate snapped, jerking her hand back. Normally she was never rude, but she was undercover, assuming the identity of Chyna Hunt, the reclusive granddaughter of the even more reclusive multi-billionaire Lucien Hunt. Chyna Hunt was also an avid wildlife photographer, but known to be a diva and Kate had to play the part … although she had to admit it wasn’t too hard to be rude to Crowder.

“But of course.” Crowder gestured to the ice sofa where one of the staff, clad in all black thermal wear, much like what Kate had on underneath her jacket, was placing a steaming cup of something. “Have a seat and Fritz will take your bags to your room.”

And search them thoroughly
, Kate thought, as she walked over to the ice sofa. The thought of them going through her bags didn’t faze her—a casual inspection would reveal nothing that would give her away.

The sofa’s seat was covered with a furry animal hide. Kate sat down, surprised at how comfortable it was. She found herself wondering if divots melted into the couch from the body heat as people sat there.
 

Picking up the steaming mug, she sniffed. The velvety smell of chocolate spiced her nose. Her taste buds detected a bit of cinnamon and brandy.
 

“Delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Crowder slipped onto the sofa across from her. “So, what piece is your grandfather interested in?”

Kate waved her hand in the air. “Oh, you know his tastes are varied. He’s simply instructed me to procure whatever I can at a good price.”

“And what might a
good price
be for each item?” Crowder asked.

Kate pasted a fake smile on her face and leaned toward him. “Well now, if I told you that it would spoil all the fun, wouldn’t it?”

Crowder chuckled leaning back in his seat, his hawk-like eyes drilling into Kate’s as she sipped from her teacup without dropping eye contact.
 

“Mr. Crowder?” Crowder looked in the direction of Fritz’s voice and raised his brow a fraction of an inch at Fritz.
 

“Ms. Hunt’s room is ready.” Fritz bowed and backed away.

Crowder stood. “Would you like to freshen up?”

“Absolutely, I’m exhausted after the arduous trek to this godforsaken place.” Kate took one last sip of hot chocolate, placed the teacup on the table and stood.

“This way,” Crowder said holding out his elbow, which Kate took reluctantly. “Take an hour or two to freshen up, then I will give you and some of the other guests a tour of the pieces we’ll have on auction.”

Crowder stopped in front of a wooden door, which was set in an ice frame and checked his watch. “Say, five p.m.?”

“That sounds fine,” Kate said. Turning to the door, she felt Crowder’s eyes drilling into the back of her neck. She turned back around. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I was just wondering if we’d met before … you seem familiar.” Crowder stared at her with furrowed brows.

“I don’t think so,” Kate said, the corners of her lips curling up in a mischievous smile. “I
do
have one of those familiar faces.”

Crowder nodded and pushed the door open for Kate who slipped inside, shut the door and locked it noisily behind her.

***

Kate collapsed against the door, a whoosh of air puffing out her cheeks. Pretending to be someone else could be a lot of fun, but it was also a lot of work, especially when one was operating on hardly any sleep.

Kate eyed the animal-skin covered bed, surprised at how comfortable it looked. She walked over and pressed on it expecting it to be as hard and cold as a block of ice. Instead, the bed yielded to the pressure of her hand. It was warm. Inspecting it closer, she saw there was a thick down mattress on top of the block of ice that worked as the box spring. The mattress was covered with a heated sleeping bag, which had the animal skins thrown on top.
 

Maybe sleeping here wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. But not right now—she had to check out the room first.
 

Looking around, she realized it was quite cozy. Not big, but big enough to house a bed, nightstand, table and chair—made out of ice, of course. The ceiling was domed giving it a comfortable, cave-like feeling. One wall had a fireplace carved into the snow with red lights at the base to imitate fire.
 

Kate unzipped her parka and pressed a button on the clasp of the string of white Akoya pearls that hung on her neck. The button was a homing beacon that would transmit the coordinates of her exact location to the ship, where they would overlay the coordinates onto the satellite photo of the ice hotel in order to determine where, exactly, her room was. This would help them come up with a getaway plan and make sure the getaway vehicle would be right where she needed it.

Next, she scanned the entire surface of the room for bugs, cameras—anything they might be using to spy on her or see what was going on in the room. She found nothing.

Turning her attention to her luggage, she unzipped her one suitcase, flipped the lid open and bent down eye level with the surface of the case. The monofilament fishing line she’d laid across had been disturbed, indicating that someone had opened the case. But she’d expected that and there was nothing inside that would give away her charade … not at first glance anyway.

Kate pulled a mirror out of the suitcase and studied her reflection, congratulating herself on her disguise. The black wig looked natural, as well it should since it was the best money could buy, made from real human hair. The blue eye shadow, heavily applied just the way the reclusive Chyna Hunt wore it, offset the contacts, which were dark as coal—both to match the color of Chyna’s eyes and also to enable Gideon to fit them with a special coating that allowed Kate better night vision.
 

Putting down the mirror, Kate fought off a tremor of nervousness. Crowder had thought she looked familiar. She didn’t think he’d figure out that she was the blonde at the hotel, but she’d be smart not to interact with him too much. She wondered if any of the other guests knew Chyna. She certainly hoped not, they’d be sure to see through her disguise. But Gideon’s research had indicated that none did and she trusted him implicitly.

Kate glanced again at the bed, her eyelids growing heavy. She wasn’t just acting when she’d told Crowder she’d had a tiring day. The travel itinerary to get to the ice hotel was exhausting. First, she flew in a private jet to a remote airport near Antarctica where she was ushered into a helicopter that flew her to a boat in the South Atlantic Ocean that sailed her to the edge of a glacier where she hopped on a shuttle boat that ferried her to the glacier where she met the snow bus that took her to the ice hotel. Crowder didn’t provide directions to the hotel itself—probably to keep the exact location secret—so guests were told to meet the helicopter at specific times. The private jet for the first leg of the trip had been supplied by Max to help keep up the charade as the wealthy heiress.

Kate stripped off her parka, removed the pearl necklace and matching earrings, and then wiggled into the sleeping bag, snuggling into the down mattress. She set her watch for four thirty—that would give her a couple of hours of much needed sleep before her next performance as Chyna Hunt.

The warmth enveloping her body had a relaxing effect. The snow dampened any sounds from the rest of the hotel. Kate burrowed into the down mattress, threw the animal fur blanket over herself and fell into a deep, restful sleep.

The beeping of the alarm on Kate’s watch interrupted her dream. The same dream she’d had over and over for the past year. The one where the director of the FBI was asking for her badge and gun.
 

Kate eagerly opened her eyes and shook off the last vestiges of sleep. She hated that dream.

Crawling out of the sleeping bag, she stood and stretched, then checked herself in the mirror. Wig still on straight, makeup not smudged. Perfect. She pulled out the self-heating gloves and socks that Gideon had sent and shook them up to activate, then slipped them on.
 

Slipping the pearls over her neck and threading the matching pearl stud earrings through her pierced ears, she grabbed a black fur cape and threw it over her shoulders. The cape, her black ribbed turtleneck and black thermal pants along with the heated gloves and socks should keep her plenty warm while still looking somewhat fashionable. She slipped on her fur-lined boots and headed out to the shared bathroom before meeting the others.

Kate emerged from the bathroom refreshed and ready for the night’s activities. The hotel was small with only one corridor, so she didn’t have to do any guesswork to figure out where she’d find the rest of the guests.
 

Seven people milled around in the icy lobby, six she’d never seen and Crowder. Kate didn’t know if the six had arrived while she’d been sleeping or had already been there relaxing in their rooms. The thick snow-packed walls of the hotel had acted as soundproofing and she’d heard nothing while she slept.
 

Kate plastered a disinterested smile on her face as she approached the group.
 

“Ahhh, Miss Hunt.” Crowder turned to her. “I trust you slept well?”

“Like a baby,” Kate said.

“Good. Then let me introduce you to everyone else.” Crowder tugged on her elbow, pulling her closer to the crowd. “Everyone, this is Chyna Hunt.”

Conversation stopped and everyone turned to Kate who tried to smile while remaining aloof. Not only was that what the real Chyna Hunt would have done, but she also didn’t want to encourage any friendships. The less she talked to anyone the better.

“Mr. and Mrs. Palmer Powell.” Crowder gestured toward an older couple who stood close together. The woman appraised Kate critically. The man didn’t seem interested in her at all. Kate smiled and nodded.

“Ms. Carmen DeLuca.” Crowder pulled Kate toward a thirty-five-ish woman with long caramel colored hair and eyes to match who was bundled in a pure white snowsuit. She narrowed her eyes at Kate, but stuck out her heavily gloved hand for a limp and noncommittal handshake.

Crowder turned to the next person in line. An elderly man, hunched over with a cane and clear plastic tubing running from an oxygen tank at his side to both nostrils. “Mr. Jon Nguyen.”

The old man let out a long, dry wheeze as he bowed his head at Kate who returned the greeting.

“And this is Mr. White.” Crowder nodded toward an incredibly tall albino who stared at Kate without making any move to greet her.

Kate suppressed a shiver and turned to the last man—average height, average hair, average eyes, the man was almost invisible and certainly very forgettable.
 

“This is Simon,” Crowder said.
 

As Kate shook Simon’s hand, she realized it was no mistake that he was so average looking. He was most likely a hired hand, sent to bid on behalf of a collector who wanted to remain anonymous.
 

Looking down the row of people, she realized any of them could be hired hands. Maybe none of them were the real collectors. For all she knew, all of the names were fake. She didn’t really care one way or the other, but she knew Crowder must know the real names or who was behind them. Surely, he would have checked them out before letting them attend.
 

They stood silent in the lobby for a few uncomfortable seconds, sizing each other up. Then Crowder broke the silence.