Waves of Murder (35 page)

How wrong he was, the women in Dubai were mostly covered in religious black garb. He booked in to the ‘Burj-al-.Arab Hotel’, it seemed to be the most luxurious hotel he had ever seen. His luggage was taken to his single suite, which was a double de-luxe in Europe. Being on the 20th floor he could even see the Royal Palace about a mile away, it was a magnificent edifice with minarets rising majestically above the rest of the city. He unpacked, showered and decided to go down to the reception area just to look around. He asked the girl at the tourist desk if the hotel had a bar, “Tourists only,” she said with a beautiful smile. He went back up to his suite and found his passport, ‘damn’ he said loudly, ‘it’s a Saudi passport.’ Well, there might be another way around this, he said to himself. He rang for room service, it took just 2 minutes before there was a knock on the door. He said, enter, in Arabic. The boy came in and bowed. “Does this suite have a mini bar?” he asked, holding up a $50 bill. The waiter took a key from his pocket and walked over to a panel in the wall, he inserted the key and pulled out a fixture of shelves containing a host of spirits, bottled beers, wines and champagnes. The bottom shelf held glasses and an ice box.

He gave the money to the boy, who then gave him the key and an envelope containing another key, “Your car has been delivered, sir,” he said.

“My car?”

“Yes sir, it is in the basement garage.” The boy then bowed and left.

Jon poured himself a very large single malt whiskey and almost downed it in one. He then went down to the basement garage, so many super cars, the best marques in the world, Bugatti, McLaren, Ferrari, Maseratti, Rolls Royce, Bentley, Lamborghini, he pressed the tiny button on the ignition key so that he could see the flash of his immobiliser light. There it was, way down on the right hand side, he almost ran to it. He got in and then realised it had suddenly become a left-hand drive car. On the seat was a red envelope, he opened it, it was a name, Baroness Nina Mescotti. Who was Baroness Nina Mescotti, he thought. Only one way to find out, he said to himself. He went to reception and said to the young girl “I’m meeting Baroness Mescotti, has she arrived yet?”

“No, she is due in at 7pm,” she replied.

“The thing is, the meeting was arranged over the phone,” he confessed, “and I don’t know what she looks like.”

“Oh, you can’t miss her, she arrives with an entourage of at least six aides and a mountain of luggage, just be here at 7pm and you will meet her. She is a very, very beautiful and rich woman. They say that two of her entourage are millionaire ex husbands.”

At exactly 7 o’clock a Rolls Royce limousine pulled up at the front of the hotel, followed by an estate car. Porters started to unload both the boot of the Rolls and the estate car, cases, trunks and hanging dress covers. A chair was put about 6ft from the reception desk, and the Baroness made her grand entrance. Looking straight ahead, not looking left or right, she sat down on the chair provided, while her entourage saw to everything. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman Suliman (Jon) had ever seen, a goddess. Obviously of Mediterranean descent, Italian perhaps. He sat to the left of the reception desk with a newspaper. He especially wore one of the new silk Armani suits, cream with a burgundy silk shirt and brown lattice shoes, but no socks as was the Muslim way. She started to look around while waiting for the booking of the whole second floor to be completed. Her eyes stopped for a few seconds on him, he smiled and went back to his newspaper. The Baroness and her followers disappeared, he continued to sit, just thinking and people-watching, when suddenly a middle-aged well dressed man came over to him and said, “ Baroness Mescotti would like to invite you to her drinks party in her suites on the second floor, at eight. Shall I tell her that you will be there?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jon replied, “it will be my pleasure. The man bowed, took one step back and then walked to the lift.

At 8.05pm he pressed the lift button to the second floor, he had changed into a black suit and white silk shirt, the lift door opened and standing there was the man who had invited him. He smiled and ushered Jon into the main suite, she was sitting on a purple velvet chair. When the Baroness saw Jon she stood and walked towards him holding out her hand, “Welcome,” she said, “how nice of you to accept my invitation at such short notice,” she said with the most fascinating smile.

“It’s my privileged pleasure,” he said as he kissed her hand very lightly. As they spoke, more guests were arriving, and a waiter started to mingle with a tray of champagne. Jon had done his best to keep his eyes off of her fabulous necklace, it was the finest he had ever seen, large diamonds and rubies set in platinum, he was completely enthralled. He didn’t even notice the rings and the bracelets, they were all magnificent, about $2 million worth. Her dress of purple and white silk was a beautiful cover to her very gorgeous body, although she wouldn’t see 40 again, she was very beautiful, and he wanted her and her jewellery. Finally there were about 20 guests, mainly middle-aged, but obviously wealthy people, one or two young ones made up the number but they left at about nine, leaving the older ones to finish the canapes and chrystal champagne. Jon just sat watching and the Baroness was watching him. She came over and sat next to him, she asked “What is your name?”

“I’m Suliman Mouhammed Hussain,” he replied.

“And I am Nina Mescotti,” she said, “where are you from?”

“Saudi,” he answered, “Riyadh, actually.”

“Are you a Prince, are you very rich?” she asked, smiling cheekily.

“Yes,” he replied.

She laughed, “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m very naughty.”

“Yes, I’m a Saudi Prince,” he lied.

“Oh, how nice, my first boyfriend was a Saudi Prince, but he only wanted me to join his large harem,” she laughed, “do you have a harem?” she questioned.

“No, I like to have one beautiful woman on my arm,” he said.

“That’s nice, very nice, would you like to have me on your arm?” she asked with a cheeky smile.

“Oh yes,” he said, “it would be a pleasure that I could only dream of,” he said, kissing her hand.

“Come,” she said, “let’s drive into the desert and make love under the beautiful moon and stars.” She phoned someone called Guido and said, “I am alone tonight, I will want to be undisturbed until 9am.” She hung up, her orders were understood, they had been heard many times before when she had taken a new lover. They stood at the hotel entrance waiting for the Mercedes to be brought round for them. When the Baroness saw it she said, “It’s too small, take it away and bring me my Rolls Royce,” she demanded. Five minutes later the Rolls was in attendance, “There you see, it’s got a lot of room, especially in the back,” she laughed cheekily. They drove for about half an hour into the desert with the Baroness sitting in the back. With audio talk through, they were able to hold a sexy conversation, she suddenly said, “STOP.” He pulled off the road and drove behind an old monumental ruin. He got out of the car and opened the rear door, what he saw took his breath away, she was sitting completely naked except for her jewellery, and a beautiful smile. He climbed in and before he knew what had happened she had undressed him and was caressing his erection. Their lovemaking knew no boundaries, it lasted until 4am when they both sank back against the luxurious upholstery, gasping for air. “You are fantastic,” she said, “you must have left many broken hearts along the way,” she added.

“You could say that,” he replied, thinking, and a few broken necks! This opportunity was perfect, but the car and the timing was wrong. The windows were steamed up and the word ‘soon’ was written on the driver’s partition glass, it disappeared in about 10 seconds, only he saw it. They arrived back at the hotel and the car was taken away for valeting and re-parking. He returned to his suite and the Baroness returned to hers with a satisfied smile. He slept until midday, having had a recurring dream of the Baroness’s diamonds, he had to have them, but how? he thought. Perhaps another drive into the desert and only he would come back. He went down to the ground floor reception area and almost went into shock. Baroness Mescotti’s luggage was being loaded into the estate wagon and he just caught a glimpse of her as the Rolls sped away. He had missed his chance to get half a million dollars worth of diamonds, women like her move on quickly to their next adventure, he had already passed from her mind, luckily for her and her jewellery!

A waiter approached him with a package, “The Baroness Mescotti wished that you would receive this.”

“Thank you,” he said. He walked over to a corner table and opened the parcel, it contained a diamond encrusted Rolex and a note that read ‘ I hope we meet again, thank you, you were fabulous!’ He sniffed the note which was impregnated with possibly the most expensive perfume. He looked at the exquisite time-piece, about $50,000 at least, he thought. Well, at least I got something, it might just cover my hotel bill.

Two days later, at midday, he presented himself to check out and asked for the bill, “It’s been paid, sir,” the receptionist said, “Baroness Mescotti settled it before she left, in fact there is an over payment of $1500.”

“Spread it amongst the staff, including yourself,” he said.

“Thank you very much,” the receptionist said.

He ordered his car to be brought from the car park, in minutes it arrived and his luggage was put in the boot. “I’ve left your gratuity at the desk,” he told the boy.

“Thank you sir,” he said, smiling.

He drove his beloved Merc into the desert towards Abu Dhabi, a journey of about 150 miles or two hours in his super car. The Emirates were very peaceful and calm, the capital being very modern and westernised, and it was a port of call for cruise liners that were known for their rich cruisers, American, Russian and European especially Germans. Yes, he thought, blonde blue eyed Aryan women with lots of cash and lots of jewellery. He drove into the centre of the city, he found a beautiful edifice, the ‘Emirate Palace Hotel’, all stainless steel and tinted glass. He stopped at the cab rank and asked the first driver, “Is this the best hotel in the city?”

“This is the best hotel in the world!” the driver laughed.

“Thank you,” he said, and drove to the main entrance, up the slight ramp. A young man came to greet him and ask him if he was to be a guest. “Yes,” said Jon. He handed him the key and the luggage was taken to reception and the car taken to the car park. At the desk he asked for a single suite, not too high, overlooking the pool, at the same time showing a wad of American dollars.

“Suite 333 is available, that will be $1500 per night, how many nights will you be staying?” the girl asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “let’s say 7 nights,” he said.

“That will be $10,500,” she said, “I’m afraid it’s in advance unless you leave your credit card,” she added.

“I don’t have credit cards,” he said, “I always pay cash,” and gave her eleven $1000 bills. “Put the change on credit for my in-house spends,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling.

Wow! he thought, as he entered the suite, if this is a single, the doubles must be amazing, definitely the best that he’d seen and the most expensive, but worth it. He looked down from the balcony to the pool, there were people swimming but no one sun bathing, all the sunbeds were vacant, it must have been 100f out there. He took a shower and whilst admiring himself in the full length mirrored wall the word ‘soon’ appeared. His blood ran cold, yet there was an intense heat inside him that took his breath and gave him palpitations. He lay on the enormous bed trying to breathe. Sinking into a troubled slumber, he began to dream terrible dreams of hell and purgatory. He woke in a cold sweat and took another shower but this time very cold. Shivering, he went on to the balcony to lay in the hot sun with just a towel covering his lower body. He lay there for about 20 minutes and suddenly heard “Hello.” Opening his eyes at the sound of the soft female voice, he saw a beautiful blonde woman aged about 35, wearing a blue bikini top and sarong. She was standing on the neighbouring balcony, “It’s very hot,” she said with a western European accent, possibly German or Dutch.

“Yes,” he said, “I was just testing the sun, I think even for me it is too much.”

“My name is Gudren, how do you do,” she said, she made a hand shaking motion, he did the same, “it’s too far to reach!” she laughed.

“My name is Suliman, but my friends call me Solly, please do,” he said with a smile, “how about we meet for drinks in the main bar at 7 o’clock,” he suggested.

“Vunderbar,” she replied, with a beautiful white smile.

She’s definitely German, he thought, laughing at himself. As arranged, they met in the bar at seven, she looked fabulous in a long cream dress that clung to her and showed every contour of her fabulous figure, her long legs, her slender waist and proud breasts. They kissed cheeks, “I always like to start the evening with champagne!” she said.

“Of course,” he answered, and ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon as they sat at a table near a panoramic window that over-looked the well sculptured gardens. The waiter poured the champagne into their glasses after popping the cork with a professional flurry.

“Cheers!” she said, “here’s to us!”

“Cheers!” Solly said, wondering what she meant by ‘us’. She is being very forward and fast, he thought, but then forgot the thought.

“So, you must tell me about yourself,” she said.

“Well,” he said, “I was born in Riyahd, in Saudi, the son of a brother of the King, oh yes, I am a genuine royal Prince, but I prefer not to advertise it! I was sent to England when I was 12 years old to be educated at Eton which I hated, every damn minute of it! But at the age of 16 I came back home and became a precocious horrible young man, until one day , when I was 20, I decided I wanted to see more of the world. Money was no object and I went to America, New York to be precise, where I had the time of my life. I stayed for ten years, living in Manhattan,” he lied, “I am now 38, and still single, the family are begging me to take a wife, but I am not ready.”