E-Book, Englisch, 153 Seiten
ISBN: 978-1-61984-820-7
Verlag: Publishdrive
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)
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CHAPTER 11
WE DROVE DOWN THE long driveway of the Hotel Metropole, past two parked Rolls-Royces, a Bentley, and an Aston Martin. “Checking in, sir?” “Yes.” “Luggage?” “Just the overnight bag and backpack.” He gave me a claim check and whisked away the car. I do not think they wanted the little Fiat 500 parked in front of the entrance any longer than was necessary. The doorman pulled opened the door and with a slight nod, said, “Monsieur, Madame. Welcome to the Metropole.” We walked in to the most elegant lobby and bar and straight to the reservation desk. “Bonjour, Monsieur. May I help you?” “Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy.” “One moment, please. Yes. It was made yesterday for tonight only?” “Yes.” “Passports, please. Thank you. Credit card, please. Sign here. Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. The bellman will show you to your room.” The room was spectacular. It was a mini-suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom of all Italian white marble, with Hermès shampoos, conditioners, and body creams. From the closet, the bellman pulled out two foldable luggage stands and placed our bags on them. Then he asked, “Anything more, monsieur?” I said “No,” gave him a tip, and he was gone. I turned to Cindy and said, “Well, Mrs. Kennedy, shall I order up lunch to the room and you can explain to me just how much trouble I am in?” “Sure,” she said. “I want to shower before lunch gets here. Just order me a sandwich.” She gave me a smile but her eyes had a still look. She took some things out of her bag and went into the bathroom. I ordered two turkey sandwiches and a bottle of Champagne and lay back on the bed to rest my eyes and think. She seemed truly shaken at the mention of being killed. I did not think she had considered that possibility. I wondered how much she truly knew. I dozed off. There was a knock at the door and I woke with a start. I got up and realized the shower was not running. For how long had I dozed off? I opened the door and it was room service. The sitting room had a small balcony with a little table and two chairs. I asked the young woman from the kitchen if she would set up our lunch outside. The whole time, my thoughts were on the quiet bathroom. Had she left with the new ID and ATM card while I was sleeping? Just as I started to panic, I heard something hit the counter. She must have dropped a brush or something. The young lady, having finished outside, stepped back into the room. “Will there be anything else, monsieur?” “No,” I said. “May I ask if you are you Italian? Your English is very good.” “I am Italian. My family lives in Pisa. I attend the University of Florence and work the summer here. This job pays my living expenses and the tips pay my education.” I thanked her and gave her a 100-euro note tip. Cindy stepped into the room, just as the girl from room service was leaving. “Did I see you tip her 100 euros?” “Well,” I said, “It is like this. A lot of the workers here are Italian and she is busting her butt this summer to help pay for her education. Besides, there is a good chance we are going to get caught and I will not need money anymore.” We walked out, sat down at the table, and started eating. She was lost in thought when I poured her a glass of champagne. She looked up at me and I could not tell if it was deep concern or sadness in eyes. “I did not expect you to get this involved in my troubles. You were going to visit family on the weekend and my hope was that between you and them I could get home without being caught, by the people who are after me. But new identity? How many laws have you broken in just three days?” “Cindy,” I said, “my uncle taught me when I was young; it is always cheaper in the long run to go first class. What he meant was, when you try to do something and cut corners it will come back to haunt you. So, if I am going to get involved with anything, I load the whole wagon .Do you understand? This is just as much about me and who I am and years of promises made to others and myself as it is about your troubles.” We sat quietly for quite a while. Then, she asked, “How did you get the new identity for us so quickly?” I shook my head and said, “You first. I need to know everything.” She took a sip of champagne and said, “I do not know where to start.” “I will help you,” I said. “Let’s start with who is after you and why.” “I am going to start at the beginning. About three years ago, my father died and left me quite a lot of money. My husband came to me and asked if he could have some of my money to start a coffee import business. At first, I said no, because he didn’t know anything about coffee, but my husband was persistent. He explained he knew someone, Imad Saidi, who knew coffee and had all these contacts and was looking for a partner. Reluctantly, after about a week, I gave in. “The business, Coffee International Imports, started to grow immediately and after the first year, we had two floors of office space on Montgomery Street in San Francisco and a large warehouse in South San Francisco. I never really felt comfortable with the whole thing, but money can change that. Six months ago, we upgraded all the computers. I needed to get out some reports I was behind on and went upstairs to a vacant office to get them done without any interruptions. I sat at an empty desk that had one of the old computers and started to work. When I finished, I saved my reports and then realized it didn’t save on my flash drive. I started looking through files on the hard drive to see where it was saved. In doing so, I found a file that had correspondence e-mails from Homeland Security. The first one I read had to do with a concern that the way we were importing some of our product could expose our operation. The next one gave instructions on how to change our procedures to avoid detection. I got concerned they all came from the private e-mail of a Joe Conner. I did a quick search and found out Lt. Joe Conner is Deputy Director of Homeland Security. I was confused. That night at dinner, I asked Rick about what I had found. “He assured me there was no need to worry. I must have read the e-mail wrong. He said, as importers, we were being monitored by Homeland Security and the e-mails to Imad must have been stating that they wanted us to change our procedures to be within guidelines. I did not tell him I downloaded all the e-mails to my flash drive. He was wrong, but was he lying to me or was he being naive? I was untrusting and I decided to say no more until I gathered more facts. About two weeks later, the company received notice that the FBI was investigating the company for money laundering. Things really got scary then. No files were to leave the office. Everyone had to go through a metal detector on the way out. All e-mail was being monitored. I felt under constant surveillance. I assumed Rick had mentioned our conversation to Imad. “I had lost my chance to remove the flash drive from the building. In the women’s room, the right side of the counter did not fit against the adjacent wall. There was a small gap just wide enough to slide the flash drive into the space between the counter and wall. I went to the women’s room and placed the flash drive there. I had the trip to Florence planned for a long time and came to Florence as planned. Last week after coffee, I was not sure it was a good idea to travel up north with you, so I said I would if I could take care of something that night and would let you know the next day. That was not true. I just wanted to sleep on it before I decided. When I left you to go back to my room, I called the office to check in. Everyone was in a panic. My husband was missing. The Feds were there, taking files. I got scared and did not go to my building for fear I might be arrested. I went to a friend I met in school, Marie—you know her. I made up a story about my husband who heard I was spending time with you and he was in Florence looking for me. She said I could stay with her. I thought that I could depend on you to get me home to retrieve the flash drive and help me turn myself in to whomever I need to.” I just sat there thinking. It seemed to make sense and it all fit but was she lying? I could not tell. I had to trust her. We were registered together with false ID and there was no going back now. “It is a little more complicated than that,” I said. “If you had gone back to your room that night I do not think you would be alive today. What I have found out so far is that the business was laundering money and supplying arms to terrorists, or so the Feds think. They did not pick you up because you did not go home. If you had, terrorists would have gotten you first because Homeland Security is holding back on your arrest because of the evidence you have on Lt. Joe Conner. Lt Conner and Imad need to get it back before you are arrested. “I think, at some point, someone at the IRS called for an audit. It could have been routine because of a mistake on a tax return, or maybe they did see something suspicious. What is important is that it started a whole chain of events. Because you had mentioned to your husband the file you had found, Imad and Conner had to get it back and silence you, for sure, and maybe your husband. I think all along they had a plan to use...
