Secrets of the Dead (12 page)

As difficult as it was to allow the Serbian woman to turn away and pick up the load of sheets she’d dropped earlier, Eve knew she’d already stayed longer than she should.

But it was hard to walk toward that staircase and make her ascent, knowing Brina wasn’t free to do the same.

At the top Eve laid her ear against the door, one hand on the knob, but of course could hear nothing from the outside. Dragging in a breath, she eased open the door until she could put an eye to the crack she’d created. Her view was limited but no one appeared to be around. She hurried out the door and down the hallway. As she turned the corner she heard voices so she dug in her purse and pulled out her cell, holding it to her ear as she slowed to a stroll.

“I know, can you believe it? I took a wrong turn and ended up in a housekeeping closet,” she exclaimed as she walked behind two men who were speaking in low tones. “I just can’t get my bearings in a hotel.” With a jolt she recognized one of them as the bearded man who’d forced her and Declan into the car at gunpoint a day earlier. “I went to get snacks and ended up lost.” She pretended to prattle on as she passed the two. “I’m hopeless, I know. Okay. See you soon.”

Eve was hyperaware of the fact that the men’s conversation had stopped as she walked by. She halted before the ground floor elevators and stabbed blindly at the up button. She felt like a penetrating laser was stabbing in her back and she knew precisely the cause. The second man—the one talking to her abductor—was Lafka Malsovic.

A hot ball of anger settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d heard about his past from Raiker. Knew what he was suspected of. But speaking with Brina had brought the man’s violence to vivid Technicolor. And with every fiber of her being she resolved that the man would pay for even more than his attempted kidnap of Royce Raiker.

He’d pay for ruining the lives of every woman he’d brought here.

_______

Zupan was speaking
again, but Malsovic wasn’t listening. He stared after the woman who’d walked into the elevators. “That female,” he interrupted the other man in broken Slovenian. “Have you seen her before?”

The other man turned around. “The blonde who went by? Of course. That is the bitch who was with Gallagher. The one with the knife who caused Shuang to nearly kill me.”

“You failed your task,” Malsovic said flatly, finally bringing his focus back to Zupan. “You let a mere woman outwit you.” Seeing the other man’s thunderous expression, he recalled the reason he’d had for speaking with him to begin with. He might need the man later, and it paid to have allies. “But Shuang was too hard on you. I told her so later.” He’d done nothing of the kind, but Zupan didn’t know that. “You did not deserve such a beating. Especially at the hands of a woman.”

Agreement was written on the other man’s face, but he wouldn’t dare speak of it aloud. Malsovic was in business with Shuang. Everyone knew that. And no one could be sure how deep his loyalties ran. Malsovic was careful to keep it so.

He took a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and shoved it at Zupan. “Take this for your suffering. It is too little, but all I have right now.”

His largesse clearly took the man by surprise, but he reached for the bills and shoved them in his pocket. “Thank you, Lafka.”

When Malsovic clapped him on the shoulder, Zupan winced. “Your time will come soon. Until then, stay away from Shuang if you can.” It was the first he’d seen the man up and around since his beating two days ago. Zupan was weak and not always smart, but he had computer skills that had come in handy once already. It never paid to forget that loyalty could be bought.

“Take care, my friend.” Finished with the man he headed toward the lower floor to the laundry room to check on the disobedient Brina. Shuang had told him about the woman’s slowness today, which he cared nothing about. But the fact that she’d been asking about Dajana was of far greater concern. It was his task to make sure the woman knew to keep her mouth closed about Dajana’s fate, or risk sharing it.

But Brina was not on his mind as he made his way down the hallway. It was on the woman with the bright hair. The one he would be charged with disposing of when Shuang was done with Gallagher.

He had no problem killing women, but he did have a problem with waste. Reaching the entrance to the laundry room, he opened the door, immediately heard the hum of machines coming from below. And killing the small blonde
would
be wasteful. He began to descend the stairs. She looked younger than their research had reported, and that could be exploited. Women were a commodity to be sold and traded, and in many countries a blue-eyed blonde would fetch a handsome price. Especially one who appeared so young and fresh.

He wasn’t sure yet what that meant for him, but knew he’d have to give it thought. Just as he’d been giving thought on exactly how he could double-cross Xie Shuang.

_______

The hours passed
with excruciating slowness. The men had fallen ravenously on the snacks Eve had brought back and handed out with accompanying empty-headed chatter about how long it had taken her to find the floors with vending machines, and how she’d visited them all to get the best selection. Then she settled into a chair, earphones in place. But she wasn’t thinking about the music.

Shuang was on the seventh floor. Malsovic on the eighth. It didn’t require much thought to be certain that the receiver Raiker had given them should go in the woman’s offices. According to Brina, Malsovic worked for Xie. Any meetings between the two of them would be most likely to take place in her territory.

And Eve was keenly interested in just what the two might have to say to each other. She debated the point mentally, her gaze going to Declan. His sleeves were rolled up showing strong forearms as he explained the security at Raiker’s checkpoints. She knew what his reaction would be if she planted the device without discussing the location first with him. But she also didn’t want to risk a conversation about it here, even in a language the other men surely weren’t familiar with.

They both had jobs to do, she thought mutinously. And Declan Gallagher was going to have to get used to the fact that they had an equal say in how those jobs would be done.

She made herself wait for an hour before rising and wandering over to him. “I’m going to find a bathroom.”

He looked at her, and then at the adjoining door. “There’s one right over there.”

It was incredibly difficult to summon a vacant smile. “Oh, darling, you realize I’m not going potty with a room full of men next door. Don’t you know me better than that by now?”

His enigmatic gray gaze seemed to bore straight into her mind and pluck out her intention. “I do, indeed.” She heard the warning layering the tone. “Be careful. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“I can’t make any promises.
Cóig deug. Seachd.
” The words trailed behind her on a laugh, but once she had the door closed behind her the smile faded from her lips. Their time was running out for the day. The thought propelled her to the stairway exit and up the flights of stairs to the fifteenth floor. There were enough people in the hallway to keep her ducked inside the stairway doorway for several minutes, which gave her some much-needed time to catch her breath. She’d told Declan the floors she’d be visiting, if not the reason. Hopefully he’d be able to work his magic with the cameras.

It was check-in time, which explained the luggage carts and people looking for their rooms. Minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness before Eve decided that she didn’t have the luxury of time. Drawing in a deep breath she pushed the door open and—with a glance at the signs on the wall—headed for 1501, the pass card in her hand.

No one seemed to pay her any mind as she slid her card into the door and pushed it open to step inside. A quick glance showed it was empty and for a moment Eve slumped against the door, all the strength streaming out of her.

Then she took a cursory walk through the room and into the next one, through an open adjoining door. Each was the size of a regular hotel room but was devoid of all furniture except for rows of metal bunks beds. Counting them Eve noted there were eight bunk beds per room, with only inches separating each set from the next. That meant thirty-two beds. Beneath each bottom bed were two pillowcases. Checking those closest to her, she found in each an extra uniform and a few personal items.

The paltry stash was as chilling as the room itself. The cold utilitarian bunks, all as precisely made as those in military barracks. There was a metal sheet of bars bolted to each window frame. The rooms were a prison.

It was exactly what Brina had described, but somehow worse. Eve wondered if it were only her imagination that the space resonated with despair.

The thought had her setting her jaw. Taking her phone out she took pictures of both rooms. Returning her cell to her purse she went to the door and opened it a crack, looking out carefully before strolling down the hall to the stairway. She descended to the seventh floor, her stomach a tight tangle of nerves and entered the hallway. An elderly couple was closing the door of a room behind them halfway down the hall. The woman carried a large oversized tapestry purse that had perhaps been in fashion when Truman was president, and the man’s only remaining hair was a walrus style mustache. Still there was something endearing about the way he patted the woman’s free hand where it was tucked into the crook of his elbow as they tottered toward the elevator.

Eve waited until the open elevator swallowed them before walking swiftly to the room in the now deserted hall and letting herself inside.

The phone was sitting on the desk and she beelined for it. Lifted the receiver and studied the message on how to make a room-to-room call. And then dialed 701.

The thudding in her chest seemed to echo in the empty room. The call jangled once. Twice. And then…

“Yes.”

“In the kitchen.” Eve used a breathless whisper, English with a Korean accent. “They said not to bother you, but you should come. Hurry!” Then she dropped the phone back in the cradle. Blew out a shuddering breath and strode to the door to press an eye against the peephole.

There was no telling if her farce would work, but Eve had a second plan ready in case it didn’t. She waited, scarcely daring to breathe as the moments ticked by. After what seemed an interminable time, the door to the room four down from this one opened. An irritated Xie Shuang marched out, her pace swift. Her back ramrod straight. Eschewing the elevators, she moved instead in the direction of the stairway exit. By the time Eve pulled the door open to make certain, the woman was out of sight.

She lost no time. Speeding out of the room she had her key out and was inside 701 in seconds, her heart heaving as though she’d sprinted a marathon. A quick glance showed the space was used primarily as an office. A rollaway bed was shoved into the corner under the window. Two armchairs faced the desk. Skirting both, Eve dropped to her knees to examine the face of the desk.

It was a cheaply made piece. Particle board stained and polished to look like oak. The middle was covered with a panel in front that stopped four inches shy of the floor. Crawling to look at it from the front, Eve found the two pedestals held three drawers each, with a wide center drawer. At the bottom of the pedestals the edges bore decorative cutouts a couple inches from the floor that Eve was able to slip her fingers into.

A sense of desperation filled her, although logically she knew it had only been a couple minutes since she’d entered the room. Her imagination was busy painting all sorts of scenarios that would have Shuang returning unexpectedly. Meeting someone on the stairs and abruptly changing priorities. Using her cell to call the kitchen and discovering there was no emergency. Forgetting something in her room…

Elbowing the doubts aside, she set her purse on the floor and dug in the zipped pocket for the plastic box holding the receiver. Her hands fumbled a bit when she took it out. Nerves were ridiculous. It wasn’t as if she’d never bugged a room before. Turning the small device over in her hands to examine it, she discovered a round disk on one side. Scraping at it with her thumbnail, she peeled off the metal colored paper to expose an adhesive area. Wedging her hand under the right pedestal, she blindly affixed the transmitter to one interior side where it’d be undetected.

Unless, she thought, wincing as she scraped the back of her hand on the edge drawing it out from beneath the desk, it happened to loosen and fall to the floor. Because it was useless to worry about what-ifs, she heaved herself to her feet and strode quickly toward the door. Stopped for a moment before retracing her steps. The desktop was tidy, with a laptop computer, its lid closed, a pen and a box of Kleenex. Eve tried each of the drawers and found them locked. Snatching a tissue, she wrapped it around the pen and tucked it into a pocket in her purse before heading toward the door. She would have been in the room for under five minutes. Mentally congratulating herself, she reached for the knob just as a loud knock sounded on the other side of it.

Her hand froze in mid-air. She risked a glance at the peephole and a jagged blade of fear pierced her. Malsovic.

Whirling, her gaze skated around the area, looking for a hiding place in case she needed it. Surely he wouldn’t come in. The knock sounded again, louder, and Eve wasted no more time. She chose the closet, feeling slightly foolish as she slid the door back as quietly as she could to step inside and close it again. He would likely go away once it became apparent Shuang wasn’t here, but his presence was slowing her escape. Eve couldn’t be sure how long she had before the woman returned.

Under no circumstances did she want to be here when she came back.

The thought froze in her mind as a knock sounded a third time, followed by the sound of a lock releasing. Eve shrank back in the corner of the closet, her purse clutched to her chest, wishing frantically for her weapon. But since she’d given up the knife she had nothing more lethal than the pen she’d just stolen off Shuang’s desktop.