Room 1515

by Bill Wetterman

  “The morning Nash went missing, one of our assault teams met a foul end tracking a suspected Herculean. I’m positive Hercules has him.”

  “Oh bloody hell.” Pendleton pounded the table. “How much damage will he do to our plans?”

  “Not much,” Reed said. “Of course he knows you back the Stromiehre bid, but you’ve made no secret of that. Now down to business. Here are our thoughts on neutralizing Monroe.”

  #

  Peacock heard the commotion in the hall as Pendleton and his men left. She was about to have her chef cook up something yummy for breakfast when her room phone rang. “Yes?”

  A man’s voice, and a very formal one at that, asked, “Is this Ms. Laverna Smythe?”

  “Don’t say your name, yet,” Rigel whispered.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Geoffrey Chessman, Madam, Secretary to Prime Minister Claymore. Madam Prime Minister wishes a word with you.”

  Peacock gulped. She’d checked the internet, all major social networks, and personal information tracking sites. Ursa’s people had done a good job with her background, but she’d never hobnobbed with a prime minister in her life.

  “This is Ms. Smythe. You may put her on.”

  She heard a shuffle of feet and then a voice, “How is the weather in Athens, Ms. Smythe?”

  “Call me Lovey, and the weather is perfect. It’s sunny, hovering at 27 degrees Celsius, and not a cloud in the sky.”

  “Ms. Smythe, I’ll be blunt. Arthur Pendleton is a rich man. I understand you thought he might be a grubber of sorts, to the contrary.” The Prime Minister waited a few moments. Peacock didn’t respond. “Don’t break his heart, dear. He’s special to me.”

  “We’ll start with dinner, hardly a heartbreaking event.” Peacock paused as well. “The invitation to call me, Lovey, still stands.”

  “What is your net worth, Ms. Smythe?”

  “7.2 billion, Madam Prime Minister, seventy percent invested in the E.U.”

  “Lovey it is then.”

  #

  Pendleton’s stomach knotted a bit at Reed’s discouraging words. All scenarios played out with Monroe being re-elected despite this new third party. If true, he’d be left with the sorry task of going the full Monty and assassinating Monroe. Murder wasn’t a pleasant thing—a last resort. “Can we concentrate on stacking the House and Senate to where they’ll override Monroe’s veto and neutralize him?”

  “That’s worth a try. But it’s Martin’s business, not mine.” Reed walked away from the presentation screen and sat at the other side of the conference table facing Pendleton.

  Pendleton didn’t want to get in a ruck with Reed about whose business neutering Monroe was. He needed Reed’s skills, but he had to consider all the options. “Here’s what we present to the W.F.C. next meeting.”

  “That’s in three weeks. Am I right?” Reed said.

  “Roger that.” Pendleton pursed his lips. “First plan of attack is to loose Mr. Martin on Capitol Hill armed with funds to buy votes for the Stromiehre bid. Then Europe needs to withdraw our stakes in American firms we can’t outright control. So if Monroe somehow fulfills his isolationist policies, we can collapse the American economy.”

  “You’ll discuss that part of the plan, right?” Reed asked.

  Amused, Pendleton almost bit his lip to keep from laughing. The thought of him allowing Reed to speak on economic issues bordered on insanity. “Yes, I’ll discuss the financial politics and how we stack the congress against Monroe. But failing those options, you’ll have to present the alternatives and the timetables to assassinate him.”

  Van Meer, sitting to Reed’s right, leaned forward, cuffed his hands shell-like, and whispered. “I’m paid either way whether we succeed or not, right?”

  “My colleague here is concerned about doing a lot of pre-work for nothing,” Reed said.

  “You’re covered Van Meer. I’ve got your back like I did in our football days, ole boy.”

  “I’ve got the scars from the stitches to prove otherwise.” Van Meer chuckled and threw an empty coffee cup into the trash.

  Pendleton disliked the thought of killing Monroe. But if murder had to be, murder had to be well planned. “What will you present to the W.F.C., Thomas?”

  “Plan A is to place operatives from my group in the States to blowup Monroe’s helicopter. Time to implement is estimated as six to eight months. Failing that, our Plan B is to embed one of our people in his security staff and assassinate both him and his wife up close. That will take considerably longer. I’d say at least eighteen months.”

  “You’ve got the nod from me, regardless,” Pendleton said. “Make your presentation. It’s a good bet the membership will agree. But if not, proceed anyway. I don’t need their approval.”

  Ah espionage, Pendleton thought. MI6 spies on the Americans. The CIA spies on the Brits. Hercules spies on them both. And now, his group, The Sons of Tiw, Saxon god of war, will join them to spy on the world. Developing this arm of his outreach was the key to ultimately having universal control.

  Pendleton smiled, “Anything more?”

  “Do you want to hear the details?”

  He didn’t want to know little details. He was big picture all the way. “Don’t surprise me. I want to know if a major hiccup occurs. Otherwise, the less I know the better. I won’t go into your bedroom, if you don’t go into mine. Understand?”

  “Completely.”

  Chapter 10

  Ursa’s mood could have boiled water as he studied the tapes from the cameras by the elevator. Whoever killed Vallonia knew exactly where to position himself to avoid detection. He leaped into view, hooded, and facing away from the camera. He left the knife in Val’s neck as two associates, bagged her body. They cleaned up and carried her out in less than forty-five seconds. They worked as though they’d been trained by Magnus himself. Ursa sighed. By now, the body had been dissolved in an acid bath. He’d never find her.

  “Carna, play the tapes from Room 1515.” Ursa’s muscular chest heaved from pent-up frustration.

  Carna, a horn-rimmed glasses wearer with starchy looking brown hair, sat straight as a board at her computer console. She magically brought even the most difficult to find bits of information to Ursa’s view.

  “See,” Carna, said. “Zelinoff leaves the Lagoon Room with his two associates. He stops to talk to Perkins and his translator stops with him. The bodyguard is on his cell and waves to Zelinoff that he’s going out.”

  Ursa scrunched up his face as his team scoured the tape. “Could the bodyguard be tipping someone off?”

  “Sir,” one of his team members asked, “Did Zelinoff go to Room 1405 later?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “I doubt Zelinoff was involved.”

  “Find and eliminate the bodyguard.” Ursa stood up and cracked his back. His anger had to be directed toward action. “We have a serious problem. Vallonia’s death brings it to light.” He reached into his briefcase and brought out a note. “The killer tossed this note into the elevator. All it says is, Mectb - revenge in Russian. But the symbol on the paper, I’ve never seen before, a pagan god with a wolf-like creature on each side.”

  “That’s a rune of Tiw, the Anglo-Saxon god of war,” a team member said. “You can see it in the action game, Attack of the Norsemen.”

  Ursa grunted. “Someone wants us to know a new organization exists, a European version of Hercules. I suppose we should be flattered.”

  “We need to tell Peacock,” a crippled man off in the corner of the room said.

  Ursa couldn’t be the messenger. He could see to it the bodyguard died, but Polaris had to be the one to tell Peacock. Protocol must be followed. Ursa turned to the wheelchair-bound man. The man’s face missed the left half of his nose. A scar ran from his left earlobe up to his forehead. “I’ll leave that to you, Polaris.”

  #

  Day 491

  “Thank you for telling me.” Peacock surprised herself at the lack of warmth
in her own voice. Vallonia had adored her, and she’d liked Val’s work. Her rational mind told her if she hadn’t been in Athens she’d be dead right now. If she hadn’t been sitting in the backseat behind her father, she’d have died years ago. Why she still lived was her dilemma. People who got too close to her died. She was like the Ebola virus.

  Maybe she was a cat and this was now life number three. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save her.”

  “Ursa’s furious,” Polaris said.

  A noble thought struck her. “I fly out of Greece in three days. Ask Ursa to allow me the pleasure of killing Zelinoff’s bodyguard.”

  “Roger that. But right now concentrate on Pendleton. I think he likes you.”

  “Of course he does. What’s not to like.”

  A soothing feeling rubbed across her back. She didn’t know why, but Arthur Pendleton’s company stirred more than her lusts. Did Ursa suspect she had feelings for the man? She hoped not. She’d find a way to squelch the attraction.

  “Don’t let your ego conflict with your mission,” Polaris said.

  Whatever Polaris meant by that was shrugged off. Peacock, aka Laverna Smythe, had total control.

  #

  Arthur Pendleton slowly rolled out of bed and glanced at the alarm clock. Two a.m. and he couldn’t sleep. His life consisted of futuristic meetings, financial manipulation, and planning the fate of the world. He had no time for a personal life at all. But after three wonderful dates, Laverna Smythe had become an obsession. She embodied all his personal needs in one amazing package.

  Her mind astounded him. She carried on deep conversations with him that held his attention. Her wit amused and enchanted him. Her knowledge of most subjects equaled his, with the exception of the culinary arts. There she seemed lacking.

  Pendleton strolled out onto his balcony. He never missed a chance to best his competition. He never passed up an opportunity to improve the quality of his life. Plus, time was running out. In a few years, he would rewrite the history books. After which he’d find himself old and alone with no partner to bask in his success. No. He would not pass Laverna Smythe by.

  He opened his cell and called his African supplier. “I have a request, and I need an immediate response.”

  #

  Her sixth day in paradise had been an uneventful day. Peacock had donned a brown jogging outfit. Down the beach in the opposite direction from Pendleton’s condo she’d run. After a quick three miles, she’d headed back to her villa, returning by four p.m.

  Her personal staff had taken two hours longer than she’d planned preparing her for dinner with Pendleton. Their third dinner since his meetings ended. Intel picked up some good information from the wiretaps planted in Pendleton’s room. He was on the phone with Throgmorton and Claymore at least twice a day. Throgmorton was odd man out in that threesome. Pendleton would soon be the head of the W.F.C., if Claymore had her way. Peacock hoped to learn more about that tonight.

  Instead of dining at the Majestic Room in the main hotel, Pendleton invited her to his suite. Things might escalate tonight, so she consulted Polaris. “My inclination is to refuse if he makes a move. I’ll play hard to get. Instead, I’ll set up a get together in the States.”

  Polaris held off responding for a moment, checking with Ursa most likely. When he beeped back in, he said, “Let’s see where he takes the evening.”

  Peacock cocked her head. No doubt they were pushing for a sexual relationship. Uneasiness filled her. She had feelings for Pendleton. Thank God she knew how to hide her true arousal from Ursa. He wanted information, not for her to have real interest in this man. But Pendleton was intriguing. She’d hoped to delay having sex with him until she could understand what was going on inside her. That wasn’t going to happen.

  Chapter 11

  Pendleton’s butler ushered Peacock into Pendleton’s living room. Opulent French provincial furnishings and décor with various shades of blue from navy to slate graced her eyes. Lily patterns of gold and white were the complementary colors on the furnishings. She’d experienced rich, but this went way beyond.

  Pendleton rushed out of his bedroom, a grin on his face and confidence in his eyes. He fixed the collar on his black tuxedo and adjusted his matching bow tie. His sage-colored shirt complemented his eyes. He didn’t have an ounce of visible fat on him.

  “Welcome, Lovey. You look absolutely mint. Like a solid bar of gold dressed in purple.”

  “Like the color? I’m crazy about all the blue through purple shades.”

  “I’m crazy about you regardless of what you wear.” Pendleton touched her cheek, and she felt his desires in his fingertips. She hesitated a moment to think how to respond. Then she pressed her cheek against his hand and smiled.

  The aroma of Thai duck with curry drifted through the room. Her mouth watered. This man touched all her senses delicately, lovingly, as properly she should be treated. She’d trained to dine like Europeans. She enjoyed the mixture of fine tastes and didn’t stuff her food down like she had as a youth. She rather liked the change.

  Pendleton undressed her with his eyes while they ate. For her part, she flirted subtly as well. Time passed quickly with good conversation. Poetry, the arts, music, she loved Rachmaninoff. As soon as she mentioned this, Rachmaninoff’s 1st Piano Concerto played over the speaker system.

  “Why not change into beachwear and go for a stroll along the Aegean?” Pendleton asked after they had eaten.

  “I’d love it,” she said, and excused herself.

  “I’ll pour us both a flagon of wine. That will make it more romantic.”

  “Romantic? Hum, I’ll look forward to that.”

  #

  Peacock gasped as they walked out on to his terrace. A full moon hung low over the horizon as though elevated by some magician who kept it from crashing into the sea. The air cooled the heat broiling inside her.

  “Remember you might have to kill him some day,” Polaris, who was now on duty, interjected.

  Did Polaris suspect her attraction for this world leader was growing? She didn’t respond to him. Of course she might have to kill Pendleton. Given the reasons for all her relationships, murder always lurked as a possibility, big deal.

  “I’ll come right to the point,” Pendleton said, the moment his foot touched the sand. “I’m thirty-six. I travel ninety-five percent of the time. I have no time for a personal life or the daily commitment of marriage. I can be a ruthless man, Lovey. But, I have a puritan sense of tradition and appearance.”

  “Should you be so honest this soon in our relationship?”

  “Life is flying by. I don’t have time to wait for the courting dance to run its course.”

  He swung her into his arms with the moonlight sparkling over the Aegean Sea and kissed her. She feigned a swoon. Then she realized she wasn’t faking.

  “I have never felt this way about anyone before,” he said. “Affairs, yes, but this feeling, never.”

  All her antennas shot up. He was going to ask her to be his mistress or marry him, one or the other.

  Ursa’s voice shook her. “Go with this, Peacock. Think how much you can provide us whichever way it goes.”

  Why she wasn’t bothered by Ursa’s comment confused her. She returned Pendleton’s kiss and pulled him tight against her body. “What are you proposing, Darling?”

  “Marry me, Lovey. I won’t tie you down. We probably won’t see each other more than a dozen times a year. But that’s fine with me. I don’t have time for deep courting conversations. A deep relationship, yes, I want what other men have, a wife, a home, and children.”

  He reached into his pocket. She stepped back. “Don’t bring out a ring yet.”

  “Damn, I’m not at all surprising am I?”

  “You’re being honest. I need to be honest as well. You’re not the only one with life’s issues to consider.”

  His face melted into a kindly, caring, softness. “Please, tell me.”

  She listened to Polaris feeding her words and
converted them to her own with added warmth and feeling. “I live at the Emerald Hotel. The business is my life. My job caters to the largest egos in America. I have a home in Bethesda, seven bedrooms mind you, and I’ve only slept there twice.”

  “We’re undoubtedly meant to be,” he chuckled. “My life’s exactly like yours, except for the hotel.”

  “I’ve kept out of the spotlight. I know you think I’m older, but I’ve just turned twenty-five. Are you sure you’re interested in robbing the cradle?”

  Pendleton roared his approval. “I’m not a loony, Lovey. I look straight at you. You are the most intelligent, crafty, sensual woman I’ve ever met. Cradle robber or not, you’re my equal.”

  “If I say yes, what are the ground rules, pre-nuptials, responsibilities?”

  He nodded and kept hold of her hand. They continued walking along the shore.

  “We’ll manage our wealth separately; however, our wills should be customary. Inheritance goes to the surviving spouse and or heirs.”

  She ignored Polaris’ instructions.

  “Heirs? What are your expectations?”

  “A son.” Pendleton hesitated and revealed a sheepish grin. “Well, I mean daughters would be fine. But once we have a son, you would make the decision if we had anymore.”

  “How soon? I’m not ready for children yet.”

  She was ready. Lying made her guts tighten. Lying hadn’t invoked that response before. What hold did this man have on her?

  “Say we try three years hence,” he said. “That gives us some time to have it off just for fun.”

  Have it off?

  “He literally means screwing.” Damn. Polaris had read her mind again.

  “Yes.” She meant that for both Pendleton and Polaris. “I’d be twenty-eight. I’ll agree to that.”

  “So far we’re—what do you Americans say, ‘Batting a thousand.’”

  “I want an honest answer to this.” She playfully kicked sand against his sandals. “You knew all about me the first day you walked into my life, right?”