Chameleon - A City of London Thriller (27 page)

Dee and Katie
sat on the comfortable leather sofa in the office whilst JJ ordered
some drinks and sat on a chair opposite them. He stretched forward
and offered his hand to Dee.

“
Hello. My
young friends call me JJ but my real name is Jeff. And you
are?”

“
I’m Dee
Hammond.”

“
Mrs Dee
Hammond,” Katie noted pointedly before looking at him with a fake
scowl. “He’s a wicked ladies man, you need to watch
him.”

“
I’m taking
care of Katie’s close protection for her stay in
London.”

“
Mmmm,” the
author hummed. “Perhaps you’d better give me a card. I may need
some close protection myself soon when I announce that this current
book is the last Clara Campbell novel. Actually, you are so pretty
you could double as my escort for the evening signings as
well.”

“
You see,
less than a minute and he’s at it already,” Katie interrupted,
sighing.

JJ smiled and
explained that he was happily married and that he generally
eschewed the limelight. He was a genial, slightly overweight man,
in his mid forties, Dee guessed, but his humour was infectious and
soon all three were laughing. It didn’t take long for Dee to see
that Katie saw JJ as her mentor. He had known her since she was a
nervous twelve year old, when he would make her laugh with his
silly stories and his rants about everything from stalking fans to
ingratiating politicians.

All too soon
for Katie her mobile rang and Dee looked at her watch. They had to
go; another appointment loomed large on the horizon. As they left,
Katie kissed the author goodbye and set off towards the lift. Dee
shook JJ’s hand and was about to leave when the jollity slipped
from his manner and he spoke quietly but earnestly.

“
Dee, I love
that girl like a daughter. Please take care of her. There are some
real crazies out there, and last year Rod Donkin made a lunge for
her at the Fashion Awards, and although the police brushed it off
as a drunken lark it looked to me as if his intentions were
menacing.”

“
Rod Donkin,
from Big Brother?”

“
Yes, that’s
the one. Alleged minor celebrity and stalker of famous young girls.
If you need confirmation of the risk he poses, ask that country
singer about his daughter’s encounter with Donkin, and she was only
fifteen at the time.”

“
OK, thanks
for the heads up. I’ll be especially vigilant, and if I get her
back to the States safely do I get a signed book?” Dee asked
lifting the mood. JJ smiled and bid her a fond goodbye whilst
offering his help, should she ever find that she needed an
overweight, balding author with horn rimmed glasses.

Chapter
36

The Frank
Sinatra Suite, The Savoy, London. Wednesday, 5pm.

The remnants
of their room service meal stood under giant chromium domes on a
hotel trolley waiting to be collected, so when the door bell rang
Dee presumed it was room service coming to collect the food from
the pricey art deco suite.

“
Who is it?”
she asked.

“
It is
Dominic, Ma’am. I have your guest Ms Li Li Sung with
me.”

Dee checked
the small TV monitor in the concealed recess by the door, and when
she was satisfied that the visitors were as announced, she opened
the door.

Dominic held
open the door as Li Li Sung entered the suite followed by a bell
hop who wheeled in a trolley with four dress hangers suspended from
a brass rail. The dustcovers protecting and concealing the dresses
bore the distinctive oriental logo of Li Li Sung Design.

The small
mixed-race designer headed straight for Dee Hammond, seemingly
ignoring the famous starlet whose room this was, hugging her
warmly. There was obviously no air kissing in this
relationship.

“
Dee, my
darling woman, you look so well, and you haven’t put on a single
pound. That will help.” Li Li Sung turned to Katie Norman and
presumptuously addressed her.

“
Katie
Norman, I know that you already have a dress. Personally you are
wasted on Jacamo’s design; he has no sense for the burgeoning
woman. He is such a good friend but he needs more to work with you
in the area of décolletage.” The designer pulled up the shoulders
of Katie’s blouse and tilted her head. She then placed the palms of
her hands on the sides of the starlet’s chest and pushed in gently.
Katie blushed.

“
Katie
Norman, I will make your next dress. You need a woman’s touch, more
shoulder, less cleavage, something that flatters your girlish
figure. As for the breasts, don’t worry. I will make them as
tantalising and edible as fresh pomegranates. I myself am not
belaboured by mammalian excess and so I know how to exaggerate
their impressiveness.”

Katie Norman
and Dee both laughed out loud as a blushing Dominic and the bell
hop made a hurried exit from the suite, wheeling away the remnants
of the Gordon Ramsay creation that had been served up by the chefs
at the Savoy Grill on the ground floor.

Li Li looked
puzzled at their obvious discomfiture but turned her attention to
the dresses hanging on the rail. Dee spoke for the first time since
the designer entered the room.

“
Katie, as
you will have guessed this is Li Li Sung; she is my Chinese-Korean
dress designing friend.”

“
I do not
know why I continue to be your friend. I designed your wedding
dress and now these evening dresses, and not a penny do I see. You
are a cheap woman.”

Katie laughed
again before Dee explained that Li Li charged more for a dress than
the close protection operative earned in a month, but they shared a
very rich friend who considered herself forever in Dee’s debt. As
she unzipped the second dust cover, Li Li spoke again, this time in
Katie’s direction.

“
I have fun
at her expense, of course, I do like dressing ordinary working
women and it is a challenge to hide her big gun in one of my form
fitting creations.”

Katie looked
at Dee, who shook her head and grimaced as if to confirm that she
never carried a gun, let alone concealed any kind of weapon in the
second skin that Li Li Sung called a dress.

***

Over the next
hour the three women joked and laughed as Dee tried on all four
dresses, promenaded around the suite, posed in front of Frank
Sinatra memorabilia and had digital photographs taken of each
episode.

Eventually, as
they all sat in front of Li Li’s laptop, Dee decided on the full
length black evening dress in chiffon with satin panels breaking
out from the split. As usual the built up straps and the under bust
detailing were woven with gold thread embroidered into the shapes
of Chinese symbols. The dress was archetypal Li Li Sung;
understated, elegant and reasonably modest.

After a few
small adjustments, the dress was fitted and the result was
spectacular. Dee stared at the other two women in the room as they
looked at her in awe.

“
What?” she
asked, wholly unaware of the impact she would have on the press
when she walked up the red carpet with Katie.

“
Do you think
they will even notice I’m there?” Katie asked Li Li, who shook her
head.

“
They will be
too busy saying, look there is a plain Englishwoman made beautiful
by that fabulous Li Li Sung design.”

All three
laughed as the Las Vegas themed clock on the wall, between a
picture of Frank Sinatra with Marilyn Monroe and one of him with
Ronald Reagan, showed that Dee and Katie had one hour to get ready
before the limo showed up. Li Li hugged both girls and left the
suite, moaning that all she had to look forward to was a takeaway
meal and Emmerdale on the TV. Dee doubted that Li Li had ever
allowed either into her tastefully decorated apartment.

Upon Li Li’s
departure, two make up girls spent a few awestruck minutes admiring
the suite before applying little or no obvious make-up to either
face, with the exception of the dramatic eye make-up which
highlighted two pairs of the prettiest eyes in London that night.
The hair stylist had one final tweak at each client and then Dee
and Katie were ready to face the paparazzi.

Chapter
3
7

Terminal 2,
Jose Marti Airport, Boyeros. Cuba. Wednesday Afternoon.

The Aero
Puerto Internacional, Havana, was named after Jose Marti, the poet
and political activist who is still regarded as a Cuban hero
despite being killed fighting the Spanish in Cuba in 1895. Gillian
liked to pick up a little local knowledge; it helped her to
understand the culture of the people she would be relying upon and
it kept taxi drivers on their toes.

It had already
been a long day. Whilst it was still early afternoon in Havana, it
was early evening back in the UK. The charter terminal was
relatively modern, having been opened in 1988, and the architecture
was a little bland. The design produced a profusion of white
surfaces with occasional red detailing, red being the colour of
revolution, she imagined. The architectural style was modernist but
it still appeared dated. Gil suspected that it was probably some
architect’s 1980s vision of what buildings would look like in the
next century. If so, they were wrong.

The charter
flight from Newcastle had passed quickly, even though Gillian
seldom slept on aeroplanes, even in the premium seating. She had
passed the time sipping cold drinks and watching three movies, all
the time waiting for the flight to be over so that she could get to
her hotel and relax.

As she stood
in the passport line she noticed a handsome man wearing an olive
coloured uniform scanning the recent arrivals. He caught her eye
and she instantly knew he was looking for her. He walked purposely
towards her.

Extending his
hand, he introduced himself.

“
Miss Gillian
Davis, I am Alejandro Rebelda. I am pleased to tell you that you
have special clearance. Please follow me.”

Gillian took
his hand and smiled warmly. There was nothing to be gained by
objecting to her special treatment.

“
If we don’t
see you again, pet, we’ll send in the SAS,” John, her aeroplane
companion joked, to a good deal of Geordie laughter. Senor Rebelda
smiled, taking the jest in good humour.

“
Please, all
of you enjoy your stay; you will find Cuban hospitality the warmest
in the world.” He paused and then played to his immediate
audience.

“
Ho’way the
lads and up the Toon!” he shouted, in a Hispanic version of a
Geordie accent, to a rowdy chorus of applause.

“
I studied
for my Business Degree at Northumbria University,” he confided in a
whisper to Gillian. “But don’t tell anyone. I am supposed to be a
revolutionary.”

He laughed at
his own joke and Gillian joined in.

***

“
So, Miss
Gillian Davis, you have pulled someone’s whiskers in
Whitehall.”

Alejandro was
around thirty years old and quite attractive. He was typically
Hispanic in appearance, and his olive complexion was flawless
except for a shadow of designer stubble. His long dark hair had a
natural shine that made it appear almost blue. His brown eyes
looked more amused than intense, and Gillian knew that his
intention was to get her to relax, but she would remain vigilant,
as ever.

“
I have a
fax, supposedly from the British Home Office, not the police, and
so I must imagine that it is from MI5 or MI6. They cover their
tracks badly.” He lifted a sheet of paper with Gillian’s photo
reproduced very poorly in the top corner.

“
It reads;
‘Please apprehend and deport to the UK at your earliest convenience
the suspect named above. She is required for questioning.’ Well, I
am thinking to myself, what questioning could be more important
than a holiday in Cuba? Surely they can wait two weeks?”

Gillian
smiled.

“
Alejandro -
may I call you Alejandro, Senor Rebelda?” He nodded his approval.
“I am sure that you know, or will find out, that I was once
employed by the British Home Office, and that they are not happy
about their ex employees enjoying the revolutionary sun. But I
assure you that I have no intention of causing you or your country
any harm.”

“
I never
doubted it for a moment.” Alejandro Rebelda turned to his computer
screen. “Look, there is no record of Gillian Davis arriving in
Cuba. How strange. I had better report this to the British Home
Office. It is a mystery, yes?”

Gillian smiled
and nodded.

“
I appreciate
your help. Now, I fully understand that these administrative
activities are expensive and so if there is any way I can reduce
the burden on the Cuban tax payer....”

Rebelda held
up the palm of his hand in the internationally recognised signal
for ‘stop’.

“
Please, Miss
Gillian, offending your British Home Office and having them thank
me through gritted teeth, is more than payment enough for my day’s
work. Please, go and enjoy the sun.”

They both
stood up as Gillian held out her hand. This time Alejandro kissed
it. “You are a beautiful woman. Surely there must be Cuban blood
coursing through your veins.”