man.”
Chapter Ten
Down the beach from the Hotel Galvez, a wooden pier stretched three hundred feet into the Gulf, carrying an assortment of T-shirt stands and shell shops, the kind of seaside junk stores Chris had seen a lot of in the last six years. The last building on the pier was a snack stand. Chris and Julissa were sitting backwards on their barstools, facing the ocean. Chris had an iced tea and Julissa was drinking a Coke. They hadn’t said anything for about an hour, but that seemed okay.
At five minutes till noon, they paid their tab and walked back along the pier and out to the sidewalk. It was easily a hundred degrees outside. They crossed Seawall Boulevard at the light, then walked through the gardens and into the lobby of the Hotel Galvez. Chris checked them in, retrieved their bags, and took key cards from the desk clerk for five rooms—one room for each of them, plus something that had been advertised as a corporate board room. He thought it was high time to take this thing from an amateur pursuit to a full-blown corporate endeavor. He had some hard evidence, he had some partners. There was a hint of a trail. Mike Nakamura called when he finished paying for the rooms.
“This is Chris.”
“I just got to the hotel. I’m in the parking lot.”
“Good. Julissa and I are already here. So we’re just waiting on Westfield.”
“Julissa?”
“I’ll introduce her when you get upstairs. You bring all the files?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet us in—” he shuffled through the key cards until he found the one for the board room, “—1020. We’re on our way up now.”
They rode the elevator to the tenth floor and Chris opened the double doors to the boardroom. It had a twenty-foot conference table surrounded with leather swivel chairs. Two sets of glass doors led to a curved balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. There was a dry-erase board, a cork bulletin board. A projection screen could retract from the ceiling. The projector sat in the middle of the table, cables waiting for a laptop.
“This’ll work.” Julissa said.
“Yeah.” There was a knock on the door. “Here’s Mike.”
Mike came in with Aaron Westfield behind him.
“Saw him in the lobby and recognized him from the pictures,” Mike said, indicating Westfield with his thumb.
Then he saw Julissa and froze. Westfield was in the process of taking off his tie and unbuttoning his collar, but stopped when he looked past Chris and saw her.
“Guys, this is Julissa Clayborn. Allison Clayborn’s sister. She saw me break into the apartment two nights ago, then saw Westfield take me. She followed us around all night.”
“Then you split up, so I could only follow one of you,” Julissa said. “From what I’d seen, Chris was less dangerous, so I followed him.”
“And interviewed me at gunpoint.”
“He’s told you what we’re doing?” Westfield asked.
“Yeah. And I’m in.”
Westfield gave a slight nod.
Julissa came around Chris and shook Westfield’s hand, then Mike’s.
“If anyone’s hungry, let’s order lunch now. Then maybe I can get us started while we’re waiting,” Chris said. They ordered sandwiches and cold drinks from the room service menu, then gathered at the table. Chris went to the bulletin board and pinned up the map he’d bought earlier that morning. He stood at the head of the table with his hands on the back of a chair.
“I want us to start thinking of this room as our headquarters,” Chris said. “I got it for two nights. If we haven’t moved on to someplace else in a couple days, and if everyone’s still on board, we can get it for as long as we need it. I asked you all to come because I think if we put together everything we know, and combine every talent we have, we have a better chance. Mike’s a former homicide detective and a P.I., Aaron was a Navy captain and was posted all over the Far East. Julissa’s a computer security expert at AMD and the NSA. I used to be a lawyer. All four
Chapter Ten
Down the beach from the Hotel Galvez, a wooden pier stretched three hundred feet into the Gulf, carrying an assortment of T-shirt stands and shell shops, the kind of seaside junk stores Chris had seen a lot of in the last six years. The last building on the pier was a snack stand. Chris and Julissa were sitting backwards on their barstools, facing the ocean. Chris had an iced tea and Julissa was drinking a Coke. They hadn’t said anything for about an hour, but that seemed okay.
At five minutes till noon, they paid their tab and walked back along the pier and out to the sidewalk. It was easily a hundred degrees outside. They crossed Seawall Boulevard at the light, then walked through the gardens and into the lobby of the Hotel Galvez. Chris checked them in, retrieved their bags, and took key cards from the desk clerk for five rooms—one room for each of them, plus something that had been advertised as a corporate board room. He thought it was high time to take this thing from an amateur pursuit to a full-blown corporate endeavor. He had some hard evidence, he had some partners. There was a hint of a trail. Mike Nakamura called when he finished paying for the rooms.
“This is Chris.”
“I just got to the hotel. I’m in the parking lot.”
“Good. Julissa and I are already here. So we’re just waiting on Westfield.”
“Julissa?”
“I’ll introduce her when you get upstairs. You bring all the files?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet us in—” he shuffled through the key cards until he found the one for the board room, “—1020. We’re on our way up now.”
They rode the elevator to the tenth floor and Chris opened the double doors to the boardroom. It had a twenty-foot conference table surrounded with leather swivel chairs. Two sets of glass doors led to a curved balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. There was a dry-erase board, a cork bulletin board. A projection screen could retract from the ceiling. The projector sat in the middle of the table, cables waiting for a laptop.
“This’ll work.” Julissa said.
“Yeah.” There was a knock on the door. “Here’s Mike.”
Mike came in with Aaron Westfield behind him.
“Saw him in the lobby and recognized him from the pictures,” Mike said, indicating Westfield with his thumb.
Then he saw Julissa and froze. Westfield was in the process of taking off his tie and unbuttoning his collar, but stopped when he looked past Chris and saw her.
“Guys, this is Julissa Clayborn. Allison Clayborn’s sister. She saw me break into the apartment two nights ago, then saw Westfield take me. She followed us around all night.”
“Then you split up, so I could only follow one of you,” Julissa said. “From what I’d seen, Chris was less dangerous, so I followed him.”
“And interviewed me at gunpoint.”
“He’s told you what we’re doing?” Westfield asked.
“Yeah. And I’m in.”
Westfield gave a slight nod.
Julissa came around Chris and shook Westfield’s hand, then Mike’s.
“If anyone’s hungry, let’s order lunch now. Then maybe I can get us started while we’re waiting,” Chris said. They ordered sandwiches and cold drinks from the room service menu, then gathered at the table. Chris went to the bulletin board and pinned up the map he’d bought earlier that morning. He stood at the head of the table with his hands on the back of a chair.
“I want us to start thinking of this room as our headquarters,” Chris said. “I got it for two nights. If we haven’t moved on to someplace else in a couple days, and if everyone’s still on board, we can get it for as long as we need it. I asked you all to come because I think if we put together everything we know, and combine every talent we have, we have a better chance. Mike’s a former homicide detective and a P.I., Aaron was a Navy captain and was posted all over the Far East. Julissa’s a computer security expert at AMD and the NSA. I used to be a lawyer. All four
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