she crossed to the door and peered through the peephole. She was only slightly reassured by the sight of the smiling young face on the other side.
Taking a calming breath, she opened the door.
“Hold on a second, there!”
A portly man in a maintenance uniform rushed forward before the bellman could step inside.
“Don’t unload the lady’s bags until I have a look. We’ve been having problems with the commode in this room for days. I suspect we’re going to need to move her to another room.”
“Should I take her things back downstairs?”
“Give me a minute first.”
The maintenance man apologized profusely on behalf of the hotel, surveyed her bathroom, tsked once or twice and asked permission to use her telephone.
Sky waited, oddly comforted by the presence of the two men.
He hung up and turned around, shaking his head. “Nobody ever listens. We’re going to be moving Ms. Diamond to another room. Take her stuff back downstairs until they reassign her. I’m real sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Diamond. I told them there was a problem in here, but someone didn’t relay the information to reservations. We’ll have you resituated immediately.”
Sky sighed. There wasn’t much point in berating either of these two men. And if they switched her room, the man from the plane would no longer know her room number.
The crowd had thinned substantially by the time they got to the main lobby, but luggage was stacked on carts all over. Hers rejoined the others sitting to one side while she waited for the hotel to process a new room.
Sky clutched her briefcase, her gaze constantly roving over the crowd. There was no sign of the man from the plane. In minutes she’d been upgraded, at no additional cost, to a far more luxurious suite on the floor above the original one, with profuse apologies ringing in her ears.
Still, Sky didn’t relax until the bellman stacked her bags inside, set the computer case on the desk, and departed with a smile and a good tip. With a profound sigh of relief, she settled into the spacious new accommodations. She’d requested privacy this time so her dilemma had been solved. The man with the menacing eyes would have no way of tracking her down.
She’d be leaving the hotel before most people were up and about in the morning. Since she planned to have dinner in her room, odds were, she would never see the stranger again.
* * *
IT WAS THE stupid little things that could ruin a perfect reputation after years of work. A guilty conscience made a man foolish.
The man sometimes known as Norman Smith had been so certain that airport security guard was stalking him that he’d switched the computer case with the blonde’s. And all for nothing. The weaselly bastard had been going after a mundane pickpocket, not him.
He needed better control. Much better control. Maybe he was getting too old for this business. Maybe it was time to think about retiring. He had a tidy sum resting in an offshore bank. Not enough to buy him an island perhaps, but there was a location in Hawaii that looked promising, plenty of space and white sandy beaches. He could share an island paradise like that.
Maybe after he completed this assignment, he’d hop a plane to the Islands and have another look around. He could rent a place for a year or so to see how he liked living there. He could still do the odd job or two—unless he was suddenly going to start jumping every time someone looked at him funny.
Business had been brisk of late and he’d grown unaccountably tense. The last two jobs hadn’t gone well. In fact, the last hit had nearly gotten him caught despite all his careful planning. He definitely needed a vacation. Today was a prime example. He shouldn’t have let himself be sidetracked by that blonde. Normally he had better control.
But God, she was something. She carried herself like a movie star. He’d always been drawn to the classy type. They didn’t usually come with such a cold put-down, either.
Anger churned in his gut. Who did she think she was? He could buy and sell her a million times over.
The thought made him smile. The smile turned into a chuckle. Then he scowled, emerging from the stairwell where he’d donned the stolen, protective camouflage. He started down the hall, his senses alert while his mind probed her reaction to him at the airport.
Cold, snobbish piece of tail. She’d looked at him like he was dirt. Well, he’d teach her some manners. Too bad it was the last lesson she’d ever learn.
He chuckled again, then he quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard him. No, he was still alone in the hallway. The maintenance uniform was a loose fit on his lean frame, but it would serve the purpose. She would see only the uniform and let him in.
He nodded to a couple leaving their room and they nodded back. Emboldened, he lengthened his stride. No one would question his right to be walking around in this outfit. Hadn’t he learned it was all a matter of acting as if you belonged? People always saw what they expected.
He started paying attention to the room numbers: 1213, 1215, 1217. Perfect. He knocked once and called out.
“Maintenance.”
Nothing happened. There was no stir of sound from inside. She’d probably gone out to eat. Or maybe she’d fallen asleep on the bed. That would be even better. He pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves. Removing a set of tools from his pocket, he set to work on the lock.
Inside the darkened room a minute later, he hit the light switch. His gaze swept the place. Instead of the jumble of luggage he’d expected to see, the room was completely empty.
Gone. She was gone!
Fear and fury mingled. Where had she gone? She’d been here when he’d called her room a short while ago.
There was only one reason for her to take off like that. She must have opened the computer case!
Fury all but choked him. Damn her! She’d taken off with his money. She must have thought she’d struck it rich. He’d teach her. He’d teach her good. Snooty Ms. Diamond would pay and pay for this inconvenience. Because that was all he would let it be. He’d get the money back and the C4 explosive as well.
He cursed viciously. Stupid! One stupid moment of panic and his reputation hung in the balance. His fingerprints were all over that case. If she’d taken it to the police—
He calmed his momentary panic. Even if she had, they couldn’t touch him. They wouldn’t have a name to go with those prints, nor would they know where to look. And his career wasn’t ruined yet. Fortunately, he’d removed the client’s instructions in the rest room when he’d picked up the case from the unseen courier.
He patted his hip pocket, satisfied by the crinkle of paper. Unfortunately, now he would have to purchase or steal some explosives himself. Risky. He could make a couple of bombs from scratch of course, but they wouldn’t be as professional as the C4. And this job needed to go right. He pounded his fist in his hand. He had some time. Maybe he could find the bitch and get his case back again. Damn her!
He lifted the lamp from the dresser, yanking the cord from the
