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

Cameron’s past visits to Ibiza
had not been as a chef.
 
His time on
the island had been spent as an agent of the Legion, posing as a civilian.
 
His missions were of the same nature as
those in Gstaad.
 
Though not as
exclusive as the Swiss enclave, Ibiza was simply another playground for
celebrity, wealth, and the unscrupulous.

Tiers of holiday villas appeared
to pop out of the ocean side hills surrounding the town of Ibiza, in the same
fashion as the chalets that filled the mountainsides of the Bernese
Oberland.
 
On Ibiza, the facades
peering down to the sea were all glass, rather than carved wood, yet they
created the same illusion of multi-dwellings peppering the island heights.
 
The glass facades, the same as the
wooden, were actually multi-levels of single homes, stealthily attached within
the sparse forest and hillside.
 
Hidden
as well from the beautiful bay below were the sun decks, infinity pools, and
the rear garages that housed high-end sports cars of all makes.

The wealthy occupants residing
in the hills far above the crystal blue ocean, predominantly young foreigners,
collectively slept until noon, napped late in the day, and then clubbed all
night, making the sunrise their second sunset, what those of their ilk tagged
as a ‘disco sunrise’.
 
The
authorities highly tolerant, blasé attitude toward the illicit behavior of the
hill dwellers, and Ibiza hippie kids that slept on the beach, had earned the
small Spanish island the well-deserved moniker, the ‘Gomorrah of the Med’.

With the huge help of Annalisa’s
congenial demeanor and feminine wilds, Stratos had worked to calm the
intentions of Cameron and Pepe.
 
Requisitioning them a car from his fleet was part of the effort to build
trust.
 
Stratos had Annalisa call
the staff ahead of the group’s arrival to determine if Nikos was at the
compound.
 
Apparently, he was not.
 
So, when Cameron drove the Aston Martin
into the parking bay, their expectation was that Nikos was already out for the
evening.
 
The playboy was surely at
a café, preparing to watch the sunset, and would soon be partaking one of the
islands famed mega-clubs.
 
Nikos’
absence suited Cameron fine.
 
Without games or confrontation, the search for Christine would be
easier.

The Stratos Ibiza compound was
architecturally similar to the chalet in Gstaad at a smaller scale.
 
When Annalisa led Cameron and Pepe into
the principal dwelling, the main difference from the Gstaad decor was that the
walls were ivory as opposed to the crimson paper they had seen during their
small tour of the chalet.
 
The walls
were lined with photographs, as the chalet had been, however there were no
signs of the antiqued Victorian motif.
 
The décor of the Ibiza villa was youthful, modern, and topical.
 
The central room opened to a high
ceiling and the rooms of the next level shared the glass walled cerulean blue
ocean view from the interior balcony.
 
A tall bright tapestry hung on one side of the room and a large Britto
multicolored pop canvas spanned the height of the other.
 
Large fronds shot out of planters near
the edge of the room and large puffy brilliant colored pillows covered the
three white sofas and floor.

“Feel free to check every part
of the house,” said Stratos.
 
“Annalisa
has shut down security and will open any door that remains locked.
 
I want this to be settled once and for
all.”

Cameron detected the temper of
the Greek man was sneaking in.
 
He
deduced that Stratos was sure the villa was empty.
 
Stratos certainly would have had
Annalisa ask the staff.
 
“We’ll be
quick,” said Cameron, and to keep Stratos’ temper from flaring added, “We
appreciate the indulgence.”

Already walking toward the white
bar on the side of the room, his lip curled, his head nodding, Stratos turned
his head back toward the two men.
 
Precisely at that moment, Annalisa entered the room from behind
them.
 
She had excused herself to
‘freshen up’ on their arrival, and was changed into a revealing full bikini
top, and a flowing white wrap around her waist.
 
When Cameron had first met her at the
chalet he was taken by her stunning beauty, yet her well-endowed proportions
had been hidden beneath the slacks and wool sweater.

As if she were a hostess
greeting the two man at a spa resort Annalisa raised her hand toward the
staircase.
 
“Gentlemen if you can
please follow me we can begin the tour.”

The tour, Annalisa had said, and
her description could not have been more precise.
 
The two did follow, through every
luxurious upstairs room, each with fine furnishings and an oceanic view.
 
They followed through the glass walled
suites to the sides of the central room, each with hot tubs and other
amenities.
 
Along her tour, Annalisa
described the photos on the walls of the hallway and the special aspects of each
room, as she had done at the chalet.
 
They returned to the lower level and then toured every room there, and
then went, through a subterranean passage, to the other villas.
 
They toured the fully industrial kitchen
equipped to cater hundreds, the large courtyard containing two infinity pools
and three spa bathhouses, and then the staff villa, with a private pool and
bathhouse that alone could compete with any resort.

For Cameron and Pepe’s
satisfaction Annalisa took the time to openly speak with each staff member they
came across.
 
For each maid and
gardener she made an introduction and asked if they had seen Mister Nikos and
when they each replied yes, with an over warmed pleasing smile that barely
masked their individual disgust for the young master, she would ask if he had
brought any guest to the villa, to which each of them replied no, or they did
not know, or referred another staff member better fitted for ratting out the
boss.

When they reached the wine
cellar Annalisa excused herself to get a key from the chef explaining, “Some of
the staff cannot resist temptation.”

Alone, Pepe muttered to Cameron,
“She knows we are not going to find a sign of Christine here.”

Cameron whispered back, careful
not to move his lips, due to the camera he was sure had them in focus.
 
“I came to that conclusion the moment we
arrived.”

“They are nervous though,” said
Pepe.

“Yeah, something is up, she may
not be here at the villa, yet they certainly don’t trust Nikos.”

“I picked up on that as well.”

Christine of course was not in
the wine cellar, nor was she in the tree hidden security barracks, the movie
theater, on the tennis court, or lastly in the private rooms of Nikos and his
father.
 
These rooms were true
examples of the extreme wealth of the Stratos clan.
 
Annalisa was insistent that to visit the
inner sanctum of Demetrius Stratos was a privilege granted to very few.
 
Cameron imagined that to be true.
 
There were plenty of other rooms to
entertain any trysts the older bachelor may decide to partake, where the
voluptuous Annalisa could assist him in other entertaining matters besides
business.
 
The study alone, the only
darkened room in the compound, showed signs of wealth in every deep detail,
from the soft leather paneled walls to the rare Brazilian hardwood desk.

Yet, in all of these rooms there
was no sign of Pepe’s sister.
 
Not
even in Nikos’ private wing.
 
Cameron and Pepe were a bit perturbed for being granted access to the rooms
of highest suspicion last.
 
Yet, as
Annalisa led them through each immaculate room, they saw no signs of foul
play.
 
Neither of the two suspected
any evidence had been hidden or washed away as they were being distracted with
a tour of the rest of the compound.
 
These were the last rooms to visit because they were not on the tour
map, not part of Annalisa’s rote breakdown of each room and element.

In Nikos’ study however is where
they found their single clue.
 
Nikos’ study was much simpler than his fathers, the walls the same ivory
white as every other room, the desk a small wooden table, the shelves vacant of
any collection of books.
 
Of
interest though was the picture-covered wall.
 
Like his father and grandfathers
thousand photos covering every bit of hall space in the chalet and villa, and
most likely every other estate and home the family owned, these photos were of
Nikos with an assortment of people.
 
Yet the people pictured in these photos were no dignitaries or titans of
business, all of these pictures were of Nikos and his friends.
 
There was a picture that they had seen
before, the one with Alastair by his side, a small brass tab on the frame said
‘Kenya’.
 
What drew Cameron and
Pepe’s interest was another photo.
 
A picture of Nikos and another man, arm in arm, a half naked woman held
by the waist on either side, surrounded by the colorful party array of a
rave.
 
Etched in the small brass
plaque tacked to that frame were the words ‘Ibiza, Stratosphere.’

Cameron and Pepe looked at each
other knowingly.
 
The Stratosphere
was a club of repute where famous DJ’s flew in to host regular parties.
 
The name had not clicked before.

Pepe tapped the bottom of the
picture.
 
“This is a great
picture.
 
Where was this taken?”

“Oh, that is Mister Stratos,”
Annalisa was referring to Nikos, how confusing she must be to the staff, “at
Stratosphere, a fabulous club that he co-owns.
 
Very fun, you should try to visit --,”
she caught herself and stopped.

Pepe appeared jovial,
“Stratosphere, a great name for a club.
 
A nice play on words.”
 
He
lifted his hands, molding some invisible clay.
 
“A nice play on names.”
 
Then his tone shifted, “Is that where
Nikos will be tonight?”

Annalisa’ jaw tightened and her
head shifted to the side to help fortify her resolve.
 
She obviously realized she had said too
much and that there was no backing away.

This was the time for Cameron to
turn on his charm.
 
Subtly he smiled
and then with a low confident tone he asked Annalisa, “This club, Stratosphere,
we are going to find him there aren’t we?”

Annalisa’s eye darted from one
side to another, searching for anyone that may be watching, or perhaps come to
save her from betraying her employers.
 
Then with obvious reluctance she matched her eyes to Pepe and then to
Cameron, and nodded her head, an affirmative yes.

* * *
* *

Ibiza

The taillights of the Aston
Martin Rapide in front of them glowed unevenly against the late tangerine sky.

“Your boss doesn’t know one of
the LEDs is out on the right side,” said Cameron.
 
“I bet he won’t be pleased.”

Annalisa sighed, “I’ll have the
garage fix the light in the morning.”

Pepe shuffled uncomfortably in
the backseat.
 
“How much farther do
we have?”

“The club is off the main road
between Ibiza Town and San Antonio,” said Annalisa, “in walking distance to San
Rafael.”

“Near Amnesia?” asked Cameron.
 
Cameron had one hand on the wheel and
the other arm resting on the open window.
 
The warm air of the island breezed into the car and washed over them.

“Stratosphere is between Amnesia
and Privilege, Ibiza’s other two famous nightclubs,” said Annalisa.
 
A subtle undertone to her voice told
Cameron that Annalisa was still tense.
 
Cameron had sized up Annalisa.
 
That she had not meant to tell them that the location in the picture was
Stratosphere or that Nikos would probably be found there was obvious, a slip
that had her deeply concerned.
 
Cameron also understood that describing the world around her comforted
the beautiful Annalisa.
 
He had met
many people before that relished in dissociative context.
 
Stratos had given Pepe and Cameron
access to Annalisa and if Cameron wanted to turn her to his advantage he first
needed to calm her.
 
To get her
talking before they reached the club.
 
The club excited Annalisa and lowered her guard.
 
She had mentioned Stratosphere and then
had she slipped.
 
Stratosphere was a
perfect topic for discussion.
 
“Stratosphere is pretty famous,” said Cameron.
 
“I never put the two together, Stratos,
Stratosphere.
 
I can’t say I’m
surprised yet I’m curious.
 
How did
Nikos end up with his own club?”