Pretenses (21 page)

I reached for my credentials to show the bitch I could go anywhere I wanted. I could go behind that desk, throw her up against the wall, and frisk her in front of everybody, just to humiliate her the same way she was trying to humiliate me. Then I realized that I'd thrown everything, including my credentials, out of the train window. I looked at the clerk again. She curled her lips and shook her head.

“Look, Ho,” I began. “I'm in a real bad mood! Just do your job and see if the registration is there.”

The clerk laughed under her breath, which really irritated me. After hitting a few buttons on the computer terminal, she changed her attitude.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” the clerk said. “Adrienne Bellamy made the reservations. Everything's taken care of.” She pulled out a computer card and a key. “The card is for the suite and this key is for the elevator. It will take you to the penthouse.”

I rolled my eyes at her. What really angered me was that I was the same person she had disrespected not two minutes ago. Nothing about me had changed but suddenly I was getting the royal treatment. I felt like reporting her to the manager, but the truth was, I was just stressed by everything that was going on in my life.

“Where are the pay phones?” I asked her. If Adrienne Bellamy had paid for everything, the phone in my room was probably bugged. I needed to call Sterling Wise and find out what I could. I also needed to call the Manhattan field office to let them know where I was.

“The pay phones are over near the restrooms.” She frowned and pointed her finger over my shoulder.

She was probably wondering why I didn't go to my suite and call from there. But I wasn't going to explain myself to this heifer. “Do you have a Susan Lucci or a Debbie Morgan registered here?”

She hit a few buttons on the keyboard. “No, I'm sorry, we don't.”

“What's the cost of my room?” I asked, curious to know how much rich people paid for what amounted to a bed and breakfast.

“Fifteen-hundred dollars a night.”

The surprise on my face must have been obvious because she laughed. I could see why she had such a pompous attitude. She must have thought I was one of New York's many vagrants who had wandered in looking for a handout.

I went to the pay phone, studying everyone around me. Coco Nimburu could be any one of them. She was in the hotel. I knew it. It was how she operated. I would be getting a call from her. I was sure of it.

My first call on the pay phone was to the bureau's Manhattan office. I let them know where I was and told them to give me plenty of room. They promised to send me a package with my credentials and a communications device by special messenger. Then I had them connect me to the Renegade Hotel and Casino in the Caymans. Before long, Sterling was on the phone.

“Attorney Wise,” he said.

“Sterling. It's Agent Perry. I need to speak with you. I know Adrienne Bellamy was your client. I'm not asking for any privileged attorney-client information. I just need to know what to expect. She has my husband and daughter.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, Agent Perry. I don't know if I can help or not. But what you should expect is a bribe of some sort. She flaunts her wealth and offers you whatever it is she thinks you want. It's very seductive, but don't give into it. If you do, it will only come back to haunt you later. Tell me, what have you found out so far?”

“I know she's black pretending to be white.”

“Then you have the upper hand. With that information, she'll tell you everything else. But be careful. She's dangerous as hell, even though she doesn't appear to be. What she reveals will be the truth, but she will use it against you later. She can't afford to have people know who she really is. I can't stress that point enough. A lot of people have died because they knew what you now know. Be careful.”

“I will,” I said.

T
HE PENTHOUSE
was extravagant, to say the least. Opulence was woven into the décor with its marble pillars and floor. The three-bedroom suite had every imaginable amenity: a stocked bar and refrigerator, a bathrobe and slippers, a fax machine, a large-screen TV with VCR and DVD, and a state-of-the-art stereo system that Keyth would kill for. Expensive Persian rugs were strategically placed throughout the sumptuous penthouse. It even had a kitchen with china and silverware. The lavish suite was seductive, just as Sterling had warned me.

In the dining room, a floor-to-ceiling picture window provided a breathtaking view. I went out on the terrace and looked down at Central Park, which looked like an endless forest. Manhattan was beautiful from up here. I felt hungry again and decided to order room service.

Picking up the menu, I looked at the prices. They were ridiculous, but what the hell. I wasn't paying for it. The lobster from Maine looked good, so I ordered it. The telephone in my suite rang, and I knew it was Coco. When I reached the telephone, I saw the message light flashing.

“Hello, Coco,” I said.

“Agent Perry, this is Adrienne Bellamy. I'm en route from Morocco. I trust everything in the suite is to your liking?”

“Everything is fine,” I told her, a little surprised that she had called. “I'm concerned about my husband and daughter. I haven't heard from them.”

“Have you checked your messages?”

“No. I wasn't aware that I had messages until a moment ago.”

“Well, listen to them. I'm sure they'll put you at ease,” she said, her voice full of confidence. “Now, you and I have something to discuss. There are some things you need to understand. Before you jump to conclusions, hear my side of the story; then decide what to do.”

“Director St. Clair already knows who you are and what you did,” I told her. “There's no point in continuing this vendetta.”

“Just hear me out; that's all I ask,” she said convincingly. “Let me handle Director St. Clair. I think what I have to say will be of great interest to you. You don't have the whole picture. I can fill in some gaps for you. When you've seen the complete picture, then you'll be in a position to judge. Think about it. That's all I ask.”

“Okay,” I said. “But I really don't see how anything you have to say could justify killing FBI agents, your sister, NSA Director Pockets, my father, and so many others. Is being black that terrible?”

“Be patient. I'll explain everything tonight.”

A
DRIENNE
B
ELLAMY
told me to be patient, as if I had any other choice. She was holding all the cards. I was just waiting for her to deal. I pushed the message button on the phone and heard Savannah's voice.

“Hi, Mommy! Guess where we are? We're in Disney World! It's hot down here, too. But me and Daddy are having so much fun. Daddy said we can come home soon. We won't be in any more danger. Well, see you soon, Mommy!”

I was hoping a message from Keyth was next, but there was nothing from him. He's just having the time of his life, I thought. He was probably having sex with Coco every hour. My anger was starting to simmer again. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering if our marriage could survive this.

I loved Keyth, but the images of him and Coco kept invading my mind. I'm nice-looking, but I'm very small. Never had a voluptuous body or anything like that, been thin all my life. After having Savannah, I lost the weight quickly, in the breasts, too. Now that Keyth has had the needles and Coco, I didn't know how to compete with that.

“R
OOM
S
ERVICE
!” I heard the waiter say after knocking. At least the food was there. That would make me feel better. After eating, I watched television for a couple of hours. I still hadn't heard from Coco. I decided to go down to Central Park and walk off the food I'd just devoured. Walking through the park, I thought about what Coco had quoted from the film
Enter the Dragon
. “You have offended my family. And you have offended a Shaolin Temple,” Bruce Lee had said in the film. Coco had also mentioned that she and I were the same. Somehow, yin and yang played a role in her philosophical sophistry.

I sat down on a park bench and watched the endless parade of tourists snapping pictures and pointing at historical sites. About ten feet away from me, a woman and a child were playing with a Frisbee. A moment or two later, the yellow toy floated to me, and I caught it. A little girl with blonde hair ran over to retrieve her toy. I smiled, thinking of my own daughter, who wasn't aware that she was being held against her will. The little blonde girl smiled at me bashfully. Children are so precious when they're that young, I thought. What happens to them to turn them into the Coco Nimburus and Adrienne Bellamys of the world?

“Hi!” She smiled. “May I have my Frisbee, please?”

Her manner of speaking led me to believe she was from a well-to-do family who were probably sending her to one of the excellent private schools in the Manhattan area.

“Sure, honey,” I said, handing it to her.

“That's a Kung Fu uniform,” she said with wonder in her innocent bright blue eyes.

“Yes, it is,” I told her. “How did you know?”

“Cartoons.”

I saw her mother coming to get her child. She was blonde also and reminded me of former WWF wrestler, Sable. Two tough-looking men, who may have been bodyguards, accompanied her. I wondered why she needed bodyguards.

“You look sad,” the child said to me.

“Sharon,” her mother called out, “Don't bother her, honey. Come on back over here.”

“She's no bother,” I said. “She's adorable.”

“Thank you. That's kind of you to say,” the mother said and gasped. Her eyes looked vacant and then she fell forward. A shuriken was stuck in the back of her head. The suddenness of her death was shocking. Coco had struck again and had already vanished.

T
HE VICTIM
was Chase Davenport, Sterling Wise's girlfriend. Agent Cooper, one of her bodyguards, told me that she had insisted on coming to the park. She had complained endlessly about getting out of her apartment. He was overwhelmed with guilt. A woman he was charged with protecting had been killed right in front of her daughter. Seeing her mother killed would probably haunt the little girl the rest of her life.

After four hours with New York's finest, I had one of the bureau techs patch the call with the Renegade Hotel and Casino in the Caymans so I could inform Sterling of Chase Davenport's murder. He told me that they had met at Georgetown Law School fifteen years ago. They had carried on a lustful affair while she was engaged to marry the son of one of Manhattan's leading families.

The relationship continued after Chase married and had lasted longer than most marriages. Sterling was deeply distressed when I told him about her death. He had lost two friends because of Adrienne Bellamy. Whatever her secret was, it couldn't have been worth all this. Nothing was that important.

I was drained and needed to lie down. The senseless killing of a defenseless mother in front of her daughter had siphoned off what little strength I had left. As I approached the elevator, the arrogant clerk who had checked me in handed me a briefcase she had received from a courier.

“No one can go up to the penthouse without being announced. Even if it's the FBI,” she said in her haughty tone.

An assortment of invectives came to mind, but I didn't use any of them. I thanked her and went up to the penthouse. On the way up, I opened the briefcase and saw the electronic communications equipment, which consisted of a phone and an earpiece that operated as a microphone and a hearing device. The elevator doors opened, and I walked into my high-rise dwelling for the night.

The message on the telephone light was flashing. I hoped it was my husband or daughter, but the way things were going, I was sure it would be more bad news. I almost didn't push the button, but I did. Coco Nimburu had left me another message.

“What's the matter, Phoenix?” Coco said, speaking English for the first time. I assumed there was no reason to hide who she was and what she was doing. “You looked so sad on that park bench, like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She laughed, and it infuriated me. However, she became serious, saying, “I could have killed you all. I wouldn't have killed Davenport if you had agreed to grant my request. Her death is on your head, not mine. I was perfectly content with stopping the killings, but, again, you needed incentive. Who's next? You never know who I'm going to get next, but you know I will go on killing and killing until someone worthy kills me. You can put an end to all of it tonight. Or I can go on killing for a price, and indiscriminately. Get some rest! You're going to need it!”

Still conflicted about killing her, I went to the bedroom and fell face forward on the bed. Having been stripped of all sense of pride as a federal agent, I wept. I wept for myself and for the little girl whom I had just met. Then it occurred to me what Coco was trying to tell me.

When our morality is tested to its limit, we adjust our morality to justify our actions. Bruce Lee had to kill his nemesis in the movie, not simply because he wanted to, but because it was necessary. His archenemy would have gone on killing and peddling dope, becoming more and more corrupt, devastating countless families. I was going to have to kill Coco Nimburu. It was the only way to stop the carnage.

I
WAS
AWAKENED
by the loud ringing of my telephone. I looked at the clock. It was 10
P.M.
Saliva had found its way out of my mouth and onto the pillow. I was in a fog, my mind still coming out of the deep slumber. In a raspy voice, I mumbled, “Hello.”

“Be downstairs in ten minutes,” Coco commanded. “Your driver is waiting for you.” Then she hung up.