The Somali Deception Episode I (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) (4 page)

“You sure?
 
A lot of workers move in and out of that
place.”

“I am sure.
 
I was told he does not work there,” Pepe
threw an eye to Cameron.
 
“He lives
there.”

Cameron arched a brow, “He lives
at The May Fair?”

Pepe nodded, “He used to be a
fisherman.
 
We are not all what we
were.”

The driver glanced into the
rearview mirror, “Excuse me gentleman.
 
We will be at The May Fair Hotel shortly.”

Pepe gazed far out into the grey
day.
 
“This area of the city is
nice.
 
What is that large building
in the center of the park over there?
 
It is very familiar.
 
Is that
a museum?”

“In a manner of speaking sir,”
said the driver.
 
“That would be
Buckingham Palace, home to her majesty the Queen.
 
The May Fair Hotel is around the next
corner.”

Pepe tilted his head forward for
a better view, “Very nice, eh Cameron?”

“The May Fair Hotel is a five
star hotel, one of the finest in the world,” said Cameron.
 
“It appears our friend is living rather
upscale.”

“My contact did mention that the
man we are meeting with is a bit of an entrepreneur,” said Pepe.

* * * * *

A porter opened the rear door of
the Bentley and Cameron began to exit from the car.

“Sir,” said the driver.
 
He was looking in the rearview mirror
again, this time directly at Pepe.
 
Cameron elbowed Pepe’s upper arm.

“Oh, Escuse’ moi,” said
Pepe.
 
He then put his hand into his
jacket.

“Oh, no sir,” said the driver.
 
“That is not necessary.”
 
Pepe stopped reaching for a tip and
waited.
 
From over the top of the
seat, the driver presented Pepe with what appeared to be a small black key fob.

“Please take this,” said the
driver.
 
He tapped the flat panel
screen on his console.
 
“I will know
when you are approaching the lobby and are ready to be taken back to the
airport.
 
You can always tap and
hold the button as well.”

“Tap and hold?”

“Yes sir,” said the driver.
 
“Tap and hold.”

“Alright then,” said Pepe.
 
“We will only be a short while.”

The driver nodded.
 
Pepe was nodded back, uncertain what to
say next.

“Let’s go,” said Cameron.
 
He shifted out of the Bentley toward the
waiting doorman.

“Right,” said Pepe, and then he
scooted out behind his friend.

The few short steps from the
Bentley to the lobby were a contrast of worlds.
 
Cameron and Pepe entered the lobby below
a ruby-laden Baccarat chandelier and surrounding them were eclectic Russian,
Thai, and Vietnamese objects d’art.
 
The finest London had to offer.
 
Cameron immediately approached the Clef d’Or concierge, the two crossed
golden keys on the man’s lapel shimmering in the lobby light.

The concierge clasped his hands
together when he saw Cameron.
 
“We
are graced by the Dragon Chef.
 
Mister Kincaid we did not know you were arriving today,” said the
concierge.

“My visit was not announced,”
said Cameron.

“We have missed you since your
visit with our last Chef.
 
I will
call the restaurant at once and let them know you are here.
 
Our new Chef is out yet I believe she
will be back from the market shortly.”

Cameron lifted his hands, “I
would rather you did not.
 
Though I
would love to hold court with the Queen of Eastern European Cuisine, I am
actually here on different business.”

The concierge let his face go
blank.
 
“Discretion is my business.”

“Thank you.
 
My friend and I are here to see someone
who is living at The May Fair.”

“I see.
 
A private audience with the Dragon Chef
and,” the concierge lifted his gaze to Pepe.

“My sommelier,” said Cameron.

The concierge drew his brows
together, “And sommelier.
 
Of
course, what is food without wine, and who is it that we are going to see?”

Pepe leaned into the concierge
and whispered into his ear.
 
The
concierge’s eyes grew wide.
 
Cameron
took note.

“Discretion,” said Cameron
softly.

The concierge composed
himself.
 
He reached below his
counter to prepare a magnetic keycard.
 
“The guest you wish to see is staying in one of our signature suites,
the Amber.
 
The suite is on the
fourth floor, this key will take you there, and I will ring them of your
arrival.”

“Thank you,” said Cameron.
 
“We are expected under the name of --,”

“
D’artagnan
,”
said Pepe.

The concierge swallowed hard, “
D’artagnan
, yes of course,” he recovered a cordial
smile.
 
“Discretion.”

Cameron did not directly look
back at the concierge though through his trained attention to peripheral detail
he noticed the concierge’s friendly and gentile gaze shift to a leer as the two
made their way to the lift.

“Who is this guy we’re going to
see?” asked Cameron under his breath.
 
“What is his name?”

Pepe also had metered the
concierge’s response, “I do not know who this guy is.
 
The name I was given was Smith, Ibrahim
Smith.
 
The concierge though, he was
very disturbed.”

Cameron curled his lip, “Of
course he would be a Smith.”

* * *
* *

The May Fair Hotel, London,
Mayfair

Cameron and Pepe entered the
lift and then inserted the keycard into the slot next to the button designating
the fourth floor.
 
The cabin rapidly
ascended to the luxury level.
 
Immediately they saw which door led to the Amber suite.
 
Halfway down the corridor a massive
bodyguard stood sentinel outside of a doorway, his eyes glazed and fixed on the
wall to his front.
 
Cameron and Pepe
approached the door.
 
The large man,
a giant, did not shift his gaze or girth.
 
The door opened without Cameron or Pepe having to announce their
presence.
 
Shadowing the inner frame
of the door was another titan as large and solid as the sentinel, though this
second guard was animate.
 
He
gestured the two men into the suite where, by the door, they saw a chair and a
table topped with a monitor displaying the hallway.
 
Behind them, they heard the door close
and then the clicks of several locks engaging on top and bottom.
 
The titan then strode past them.
 
“This way,” he said, and led them into
the heart of the beige and brown apartment sized suite.

As the name of the room
entailed, Amber was the predominant theme.
 
The objects d’art numerous in the room were all made of Amber as were
the many lamps.
 
The centerpiece of
the room was a large L-shaped sofa upholstered with amber hued
crushed-velvet.
 
In the center of
the sofa,
so as to
treat the room as his dominion, sat
a well-groomed dark African man.
 
The man was not young though he appeared in fine health.
 
The man’s suit was impeccable, and
certainly, Savile Row tailored.
 
The
man, undoubtedly Mister Smith was watching a football match on the 42-inch Bang
& Olufsen plasma television centered on the wall.
 
Mister Smith was indifferent to Cameron
and Pepe entering the room.
 
Pepe
and Cameron stood silently and watched the match from the side of the
sofa.
 
One of the players kicked a
far pass and a raucous noise shot from the stadium crowd through the many
surround-sound speakers hidden throughout the suite.
 
Mister Smith flashed a glance at the
large bodyguard still standing to the side of the two and then wagged a finger
at the screen.
 
The bodyguard held
up the television remote.

“Just the volume,” said Mister
Smith, his voice deep and absolute.
 
The volume went down.
 
The
man still made no eye contact with Cameron or Pepe.
 
“Please, sit.
 
I apologize.
 
Like most men, sport takes me to my
youth.”

“I understand,” said Pepe.
 
He and Cameron sat on a small matching
sofa perpendicular to Mister Smith.

“Our friend in Montreal believes
I may be able to help you,” said Mister Smith.

Pepe nodded, “I would like
that.
 
He said that you know
Somalia, that you and he were fishermen.”

Mister Smith chuckled.
 
“Yes, that is true.
 
All of us on the coast were fishermen
once, when there were fish.
 
Now I
am a diplomat.”

Pepe scanned the suite, “Our
friend also said you were an entrepreneur.
 
I see diplomacy has perks.”

“Yes, perks.
 
Can I get you anything?”
 
Mister Smith raised his hand again to
the bodyguard.

“No thank you.
 
We are really on a tight schedule,” said
Cameron.
 
“I am sure you
understand.”

Mister Smith let his hand
suspend for a long few seconds and then reached for a rock glass on the dark
wooden table before him.
 
He lifted
the glass, relished a sip of the clear liquid inside, and then continued to
speak, “Yes you have a plane to catch.
 
Listen, I am sorry I do not have any news for you.”

Pepe dropped his head, “I see.”

“I have made inquiries though,
and I am sure I will have a name for you shortly.
 
Give your number to my man.
 
I could not hold this position without
having a pulse on who is responsible for such actions.”

“Thank you for your time,” said
Pepe, rising with Cameron from the small sofa.

“Do you need a driver or a pilot
back to Heathrow?” asked Mister Smith
 
“It is the least I can do.
 
For now.”

“No we have a car waiting,” said
Cameron.

Mister Smith again wagged his
finger toward the screen.
 
The suite
filled again with the sound of the football match.
 
The bodyguard raised his arm toward a
sidebar behind Cameron and Pepe.
 
On
the
end
Pepe found May Fair Hotel stationary and
pens.
 
He wrote down a number where
a message could be left then turned to tell Mister Smith.
 
Mister Smith was once again indifferent
to their presence.
 
The titan held
his hand out and Pepe relinquished the number to him.

Cameron waited until the two
were in the lift before he spoke.
 
“Did you recognize him?”

“Even after all of these years
his face has not changed,” said Pepe.

“I was thinking the same,” said
Cameron.
 
“He calls himself a
diplomat now.”

Pepe pulled the key fob from his
pocket that the driver had given him and then pressed the button.
 
“He can call himself a diplomat.
 
The man is a warlord.”

* * *
* *

The May Fair Hotel, London,
Mayfair

The lift descended past the
lobby down to a sublevel.

“I thought you tapped the
button,” said Pepe.

“I did,” said Cameron.
 
“We probably have to go to the bottom
and work our way back up.”

Cameron heard a slight grunt
from Pepe.
 
The meeting with Mister
Smith had not been fruitful.
 
A ping
rang from the digital panel above and the cabin doors opened to two dark
African men, one attired in a brown suit the other blue, both suits cheap.
 
Though they were in a subterranean level
the man in the blue suit was wearing dark sunglasses.