Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) (11 page)

“Okay, okay,” Johnson said. “We’ll go find Special Agent Harper, she’s running the show. We should be able to find one of her team around here somewhere.” 

Leopold looked around the hall, still a few dozen people wandering about the floor. “You’ve got two agents in here,” he said, pointing at a figure near the far wall. “One there, trying to look like he’s waiting for someone.” He pointed at another figure on the balcony. “And another up there, pretending to make a phone call.”

Johnson blinked. “Not bad. What gave them away?”

“Matching coats.”

She laughed. “Is that it?”

“I pay attention. Neither of them have moved a muscle since we got here, and most people don’t come to places like this alone. They’re also bone dry, so they’ve not been outside in a while, which makes me wonder why they haven’t ditched the jackets.” 

“Maybe you missed your calling, Mr. Blake. You’d make a pretty good detective.”

“Who says I’m not?” 

She smiled again. “Follow me. We’ll go find Harper. Before you blow everyone else’s cover.”

Chapter 16

TREVOR HEARD A scuffle coming from the hallway below and felt his heart rate jump. It had been nearly an hour since the two men and the housekeeper had dropped in for a sweep, and his nerves hadn’t yet fully recovered. Judging by their accents, the security detail had been American, the housekeeper sounded a little Hispanic, maybe, but he couldn’t place it. One of the men had stuck his head into the ducts. Must have been no more than a few feet away. Trevor had held his breath until his lungs burned.  

Now, with a little time to recover, Trevor was trying to get his head back in the game. Marbles still stuffed into his pockets, he struggled to get comfortable. The effect was intentional, but no less irritating. He resisted the urge to comfort eat, instead focusing on his plan of attack. 

Melendez would arrive later today. His security team had the whole floor locked down, but they wouldn’t be expecting any movement from within. With all eyes on the entrances, it wouldn’t take much of a distraction to buy Trevor enough time to slip down to floor level and make his way to Melendez’s room. With at least one of the bodyguards sure to be outside the door, Trevor knew he had to choose his moment wisely; he was confident of his own combat prowess, but engaging an unknown was always a risk. He would need the element of surprise to tip the scales in his favor. 

He played the scenario out in his head. First, he would wait until Melendez had retired for the night, allowing a couple of hours for him to enter REM sleep. Tonight was out of the question; there would be too many people watching. He would wait until after the conference was over to make his move. Unfastening the fake panels, he would open the hatchway a crack and wait for one of the security team, preferably the one who didn’t sound like a pro wrestler, to pass beneath. A quick drop to the soft carpet, and he would quickly neutralize the target with his KA-BAR tactical knife. Either a deep incision to the spine, or to the carotid arteries, whichever presented itself as the quickest method of dispatch. It would all be over in seconds. 

Worse case scenario, the first target would make a noise and alert the other guard. With less than fifty feet between the hatchway and the farthest room, it would be an easy shot with the suppressed pistol once Trevor rounded the corner. Total time, less than ten seconds. Too fast for anyone to call for backup. 

After that, Trevor would liberate Melendez’s room card from one of the bodyguards and pay the bastard a personal visit. He hadn’t yet decided how he would do it. He had considered a single bullet to the head, quick and clean, but ultimately decided it lacked poetry. Either the knife, or, if he was feeling pumped enough, his own two hands wrapped around Melendez’s throat. He figured he could always scrub away the DNA traces afterward.

The deed itself was the easy part. Trevor knew his own limits, and was confident he could pull it off. He’d handled far worse in the past, his own time with the Secret Service proving he was more than a match for most. His military days before that, he had built quite a reputation for efficiency, if not imagination. 

The trouble lay with egress, getting the hell out of Dodge when it was all over. He could pack up his kit in the rucksack, for sure, but he would waste valuable time collecting it. That had to be factored in. Cameras, too; there were CCTV units mounted throughout the hotel, although none installed on the VIP floor. He would have to slip back into his coveralls to avoid drawing suspicion, assuming a man dressed in a ski mask and black jumpsuit wasn’t a regular sight at the First Hill Suites. Trevor figured not. 

Thankfully, Gustafson’s elevator key card would grant him access to the parking lot without requiring passage through the public areas. That would allow him a direct route outside, where his pickup would be waiting. The fake card he had slipped onto Rick’s desk the day before should hold up long enough. By the time anyone figured out something had happened, Trevor would be long gone. 

The Feds might discover he was involved, but no matter. Trevor had passage booked out of the country, registered under one of many aliases, which should buy him a few months. By the time the Secret Service or the CIA got their asses in gear, Trevor would have already moved on. He figured six to eight months of lying low, swapping identities, and Interpol would lose him for good. It meant never stepping foot on US soil again, but, as far as Trevor was concerned, that was just a bonus. 

All he had to do was get through the next thirty-six hours.

Chapter 17

MARIEL WAS HUDDLED in an alleyway a couple of blocks from the hotel when Jonny arrived. She was taking shelter under a fire escape, sucking down on a Marlboro. She looked up as he approached and tossed the remnants of the cigarette onto the rain-soaked asphalt, grinding it out with the heel of her shoe. 

“What the hell you call about?” Jonny said, drawing up close. The rain hadn’t let up and droplets of cold water trickled down his face. The frigid temperature numbed the pain in his jaw a little. “I told you not to use your cell phone.” 

“Shit, what happened to you?” Mariel said, eying his swollen features. “You get into a fight with a lamppost?” 

“Mind your own business.”

She folded her arms. “Relax, will you? I was only gonna tell you to meet me on my afternoon break.” She checked her watch. “Which is now over, by the way. Where you been all afternoon?”

“I was busy.”
Trying to fix my face
, he thought. “What do you want?” 

“I met the Melendez security guys,” she said. “Like you said, they checked the rooms, they checked the hallway. Looks like they were more focused on figuring out the convention center.” 

“You going to have any problems?” Jonny absent-mindedly flexed his jaw muscles, the pain subsiding a little further. “They might check the bedclothes before lights out.” 

“Sure, they might. But they trust me so far; there’s no reason to suspect they’d change their minds. So long as I keep on using fresh toiletries and cleaning products, eyes are off me.”

“Good. Make sure you keep it that way.” He studied Mariel’s face, looking for any signs of nerves. She looked right back at him, her gaze hard and steady. Jonny remembered for a moment why he found her attractive, the girl from the Philippines who had shown up one night at his campus bar, back in his UCLA days, wide-eyed and full of secrets. Clearly not a student there, she hadn’t taken long to latch on to someone who knew his way around, knew how to keep her safe, keep her under the radar.

Her looks hadn’t faltered in the three years he’d known her, and he was still glad to have her on his arm. But she was a liability, independent-minded. Not long-term material, certainly not someone the Family would approve of. Not Japanese. Despite all that, she was fun, knew how to have a good time. But all that would come to an end, once she’d outlived her usefulness. That was the way of all things, and this too must pass. 

Jonny leaned in and brushed away a damp strand of hair from her face. “This will all be over soon,” he said. “Then it’s a better life. For both of us.”

She pulled away. “People shouldn’t have to die.” 

“It’s you or them. You know that better than anyone. This is the world we live in.” 

“It’s a shitty world.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” He pulled her closer, her warm breath against his cheek. There was the smell of cigarettes and perfume. Holding her tight, he kissed her. 

“What was that for?” she said, drawing back. 

“I can’t kiss you?” 

“You haven’t in weeks.”

“Maybe it’s nerves.” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” She turned to leave. “Listen, I’m due back on shift any minute. If I’m late, people ask questions.”

Jonny nodded. “Tomorrow night. Everybody’s guard will be down. Make the move then.” 

“I’ll see you after work.” Mariel walked away, back toward the main street and out of sight.

Watching her disappear around the corner, Jonny checked his watch. The target was due to arrive soon, and he wanted eyes on her. With a final glance at his cell phone, he headed back toward the hotel, hoping for a chance to find a good surveillance spot at the bar. 

And hell, maybe a few drinks might take the edge off.

Chapter 18

SECRET SERVICE TEAM Leader Joanne Harper was sitting hunched over a laptop when Leopold, Jerome, and Johnson arrived. Nestling in a small office on the third floor, Harper looked up from her screen as Leopold knocked on the door, quickly shutting the laptop lid. She was dressed in plain clothes, a smart suit and white shirt, a blue rain jacket slung over the back of her chair. Stacks of paper files littered the small desk in the center of the room, the walls adorned with schedule printouts and photocopied blueprints of the building. 

“You must be Melendez’s team,” Harper said. 

“For our sins,” Leopold said. “I understand you’re heading up the protection detail for the President this weekend.” He closed the door and walked toward the desk. Jerome and Johnson stood behind him.

She nodded. “I’ve been over your itinerary, Mr. Blake. I’m surprised Mr. Melendez has opted for outside help.”

“After Santiago, can you blame him?”

Harper narrowed her eyes. “That was an isolated incident.” She took a deep breath. “What do you want?”  

“Officer Johnson has kindly offered to escort us through the premises. We’d like your permission to sweep the areas Mr. Melendez will be using tomorrow. And copies of your risk assessment reports, if you’d be so kind.”

“You want my help? I thought Mr. Melendez would have everything under control.” 

Leopold smiled. “We’re just being thorough. Your remit does extend to Presidential candidates, does it not?”

“One of the many perks of the job,” Harper said. “Even if the candidate in question thinks he can do better without us.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Will that be all?”

Leopold took a step closer to the desk. “We’ll need to borrow a few of your agents. While the President is off site, I’m sure you can spare them. We’re a two-man team, so we need the extra eyes.”