However, Drake had other things on his mind than living it up on his companion’s dollar. Leaving Anya to change in the room, he had quickly donned his own suit and excused himself, making his way downstairs.
The hotel bar was about half full at that time of night. Typical of an expensive hotel near an international airport, most of the patrons were businessmen in their forties and fifties, blowing off steam after a long day of air travel.
The place was dimly illuminated with spot lighting, and there was enough ambient noise and general activity for Drake to slip in unnoticed. He took a corner booth out of habit, both to scope out the other drinkers without attracting attention, and to prevent anyone watching him without his knowledge.
There wasn’t much subtlety to what he was planning. Essentially his goal was to find someone who looked broadly like him, follow him outside and mug him, steal his room card and use it to get access to his passport. Of course, there was always the problem of what to do
with
the unfortunate businessman afterwards, but he’d discovered there was more than enough room in the trunk of the Taurus to hide an unconscious man. They wouldn’t be needing the car now anyway.
He had spotted one man amongst a group of drinkers who he considered to be a passable likeness of himself. Fortyish, dark hair, tall and in good shape. He was also knocking back the beers like there was no tomorrow, which was fine with Drake. He would be easier to subdue.
Preoccupied as he was with his potential target, he didn’t notice the attractive blonde approaching until she sidled into the booth beside him.
‘I trust this seat isn’t taken,’ Anya asked.
Drake glanced at his companion, ready to admonish her for sneaking up on him. But before he could get a word out, he stopped abruptly, startled by the change that had come over her.
She had discarded her old clothes, donning a black pencil skirt cut above the knee, revealing her long shapely legs, the elegance of which were further enhanced by a pair of high-heeled shoes. She had made up her face as well, applying lipstick, foundation and mascara in a subtle, understated way that highlighted her already attractive features. This combined with a suit jacket and a white shirt open enough to reveal a glimpse of her cleavage, created an outfit that was both sophisticated and subtly inviting.
The impression certainly wasn’t lost on him.
‘You look … different,’ he managed.
She flashed a wry smile. ‘If that is how you compliment a woman, I’m not surprised you’re single.’
‘I usually rely on my break-dancing skills,’ he returned. ‘Seriously though, what’s with the get-up? I hope you’re not planning a night out on the town.’
This prompted a raised eyebrow. ‘Hardly. I came to get you your passport,’ she explained. ‘And judging by the way you were glancing around the bar, you had a similar idea to mine, I think.’
‘Great minds, and all that …’
‘I suggest you forget what you were thinking and leave this to me.’ Her tone told him it wasn’t a suggestion.
‘Bad idea,’ he whispered. ‘Last time you had dealings with a man who wasn’t me, it didn’t exactly go well.’
He saw a momentary flicker of anger in those cool eyes. ‘I said I wouldn’t lose control again. I meant it. Anyway, I have done this before. You haven’t, and now is no time to learn.’
Her gaze shifted from Drake to the other inhabitants of the bar.
Drake’s intended target showed no signs of leaving the bar until it ran dry, and would likely be too difficult to separate from his drinking buddies in any case. Anya ignored him, instead searching for a more accessible victim. It didn’t take her long.
‘There,’ she said, nodding towards the bar with its mirrored backdrop and seemingly endless rows of spirits. ‘Third seat from the end.’
Craning his neck around for a quick look, Drake spotted a man in a dark suit sitting alone, nursing a vodka with ice. He was facing away from them, but the mirrored bar allowed them a decent look.
Average build, early forties, with short dark hair, glasses and a face that was neither handsome nor ugly, he looked thoroughly nondescript. He also looked as if he’d put away a few of those vodkas judging by his unfocused eyes.
Still, he seemed a rough physical match for Drake.
‘Perfect,’ Anya decided. ‘He’s the right age, he’s wealthy, he’s alone and approachable. And he is British.’
Drake frowned. ‘And how can you tell all that?’
‘His suit comes from Savile Row, and he is making no effort to talk to anyone. British men are no good at small talk,’ she added with a significant look at Drake. ‘He has been drinking spirits for a while, so he isn’t planning to meet anyone, especially not a woman. And I see the mark of a wedding ring on his hand. Either he is divorced, or he took it off tonight. Either way, he is the one. Once he invites me back to his room, I’ll take his passport and meet you back at our suite.’
Drake regarded her with a raised eyebrow. ‘What if he blows you off?’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘For a man, you have very little understanding of the male mind. Not many men would refuse to sleep with a beautiful woman with no strings attached.’
‘Your modesty continues to impress me.’
‘I saw the way you looked at me earlier,’ she whispered in his ear, her breath warm against his cheek as she stood up. ‘Go back to the room and wait for me there.’
Saying nothing more, she turned and sauntered over to the bar, finding a seat close to the target. Straight away she caught his eye, though the man tried to be unobtrusive about it. He kept his gaze averted, as if worried he would scare her off.
Drake watched Anya order a drink. Vodka on the rocks – clever girl. She looked relaxed, elegant, composed as she sipped her drink. She was an attractive woman in a bar filled with men. It was too easy.
Five minutes or so went by, during which a waitress came over to ask if Drake wanted a drink. He ordered a whisky and soda.
The man had kept to himself, minding his own business, but casting the occasional furtive glance Anya’s way to check if anyone had joined her. He was attracted to her. Good.
She played it cool, ignoring his first tentative attempts. To turn and look at him too soon might frighten him off, or worse, give the impression that she was a hooker trawling for a rich businessman.
When the target finally plucked up the courage to look at her properly, she smiled at him, her pale blue eyes smouldering in the dim light. Drake saw him smile back, tentative at first. He wasn’t used to approaching women, flirting with them, showing interest in subtle ways.
She was speaking now, holding up her drink, using it to start a conversation. Drake couldn’t hear what was being said over the general hubbub, but he could tell from the man’s body language that he was receptive.
Five minutes later, and she had switched chairs to sit beside him, and the trap was sprung. He was all over her, laughing and joking, his confidence riding high now that her interest was firmly established.
He’d seen enough. Draining the last of his drink, he stood up and quietly left the bar.
Chapter 47
AS THE ELEVATOR
made its unhurried ascent to the third floor, Lewis Henderson smiled at the woman beside him, hardly believing his luck. She was beautiful: tall, blonde, slender, with a sultry, intimate voice and an enticingly exotic accent that he could listen to all night long.
He’d bumped into her down at the bar, found they shared a preference for the same brand of vodka, and the conversation had blossomed from there. She’d explained she was in Miami for some financial conference, and that her flight had been delayed until tomorrow. So here she was, alone and bored.
It was he who had suggested they return to his room for a nightcap. Normally he never would have been so brazen, but the vodka was thick in his blood and his confidence was soaring.
He felt her hand, soft and warm, gently stroking his own. The barest touch was maddeningly arousing, and already he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.
‘I hope it’s not far,’ she whispered, her voice deep and purring. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing your room, and your bed.’
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Taking her hand, he turned left and strode down the corridor, eager to be alone with her. He wanted to see that glorious
body
naked, wanted to run his fingers through that thick blonde hair, wanted to hear that seductive voice moaning in his ear.
Reaching room 312, he fished out his keycard and fumbled to swipe it through the reader, silently cursing himself for being so clumsy.
At last the door beeped and unlocked. He pushed it open and hurried in, with his new companion just behind.
No sooner had the door clicked shut than he felt her mouth on his, her body pressed up against him, hard and insistent. The kiss was so strong it left him breathless.
His hands encircled her narrow waist, then moved up until he felt the soft warmth of her breasts. He was more aroused than he’d ever thought possible. He felt like a teenager again, eager but apprehensive.
She kissed him again, slowly pushing him towards the bed. A playful shove to the chest sent him falling backwards onto the soft mattress.
‘Don’t move,’ she whispered, reaching into her handbag.
‘What have you got there?’ he asked, wondering if this was some sort of sex game; handcuffs or a blindfold or something like that.
He hadn’t dabbled much in that sort of thing. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, but his previous partners had always been so conventional, so ordinary, so unwilling to try anything new or creative that he’d never felt comfortable suggesting it. After a while he’d given up thinking about it.
But this woman was something else. She was special, adventurous, exciting and unafraid to exert her authority. She was everything he’d ever looked for, and she had
awoken
something in him: a desire to break free of the safe, dull monotony of his life, to seek adventure and excitement.
She smiled seductively. ‘Something just for you.’
Then, in a flash, everything changed. Suddenly she pulled a weapon out of the bag and aimed it at him. He saw the dull black gun metal gleaming in the wan light.
For a moment he laughed. This had to be some kind of game, surely?
‘Shut up,’ she hissed, all trace of her former attraction and desire gone. ‘Roll over on your stomach. Do it now!’
The look in her eyes erased any doubts he might have entertained. There was a cold, calculating, menacing look in them now. She was like a predator poised to strike.
In an instant, all the life drained out of him. He felt sick, terrified.
You stupid fool! his mind screamed at him. How could you be taken in so easily? She brought you up here to rob you! Then she’s going to kill you!
‘P-please, don’t kill me,’ he stammered, trembling visibly now. He didn’t care that she saw it. He was terrified. With every ounce of his being, he wished to return to the safe, comfortable life he’d spurned only moments before. ‘Please. I made a mistake. Just take what you want. Don’t kill me.’
‘Are you married, Lewis?’ she asked.
His eyes went blank for a moment. ‘What?’
‘It’s a simple question. Are you married?’ she repeated. ‘I see the mark of a ring on your hand. Do you have a wife at home? Don’t lie to me.’
He could feel tears threatening. Sniffing and unwilling to meet her gaze, he nodded.
‘Does she love you?’
He nodded again, fighting hard not to break down.
‘You think she’d be upset if she found out you’d been murdered in a hotel room by a Russian hooker?’
His lower lip was trembling and tears were running down his cheeks as he spoke. ‘I d-don’t want t-to die.’
‘I didn’t ask if you wanted to die, Lewis. I asked if you thought your wife would be upset to know you’d been murdered in your hotel room by a Russian hooker? Well, would she?’
‘Y-yes!’ he hissed, hating her for making him say it, and hating himself even more for being so weak. ‘Yes, she’d be upset!’
She sighed. ‘Then you won’t invite women back to your room in future, will you?’
Wild, frantic hope surged through him. ‘No. No, I won’t! I promise!’
‘Good.’ The look in her eyes hadn’t changed, but he did detect something in her voice. A slight softening, a brief moment of understanding. ‘Lie face down on the bed and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to tie you up, then I’m going to leave. You’ll never see me again. You can go back to your life and pretend none of this ever happened. Understand?’
He nodded.
Three minutes later, she had him gagged and secured on the floor beside the toilet, bound securely with a roll of heavy duty duct tape she’d brought along for the task. Available in any hardware store in the country, it was as good as a pair of handcuffs and far more versatile. No human was strong enough to break it; she knew that much.
Anya was no stranger to securing prisoners, and had made sure Henderson couldn’t go anywhere or make enough noise to arouse suspicion, practically mummifying him in the stuff.
He was in for a long night, and probably a long day tomorrow before the hotel staff found him, but he would live. His pride and dignity were another matter, though she had no concern for either.
She had already helped herself to his glasses, wallet and the valuable credit cards and identity documents within, but a quick search of his room failed to yield his passport. She did however find an electronic safe, similar to the one in their own room.
It required a four-digit PIN to open. Checking his driver’s licence, she found his date of birth was 10/07/68.
She tried 1968. The safe’s indicator light flashed green, and there was an electronic hum as the bolt was withdrawn. She shook her head, dismayed at how naive and predictable people could be.
Tucking his passport into her jacket pocket, she paused in front of the mirror to check her appearance, then glanced into the bathroom.
‘Thanks for the help. Goodbye, Lewis,’ she said, then opened the door and placed the
Do Not Disturb
sign on it.