CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nate
Jack was silent, pensively looking out of the window of the taxi during the ride back to the hotel.
I was worried about him. His cheek was colouring into a rainbow bruise and he might get a black eye too.
Both Jack and I definitely needed a wizard of a makeup artist to cover up our scrapes before we walked the red carpet.
I knew getting drugged bothered Jack deeply, it bothered me too, but Jack told me it had happened to him before.
The loss of control was an awful thing to endure, confusing and humiliating.
Maybe he’d trust me enough to tell me about his experience one day?
Our taxi paused at traffic lights before turning into the drop-off zone outside the Adler Kandinski Hotel.
In my near my future I could envision drinking a gallon of water, taking a long, hot shower, and then eating a massive breakfast. I’d take a long nap and maybe, if he was in the mood Jack we’d get back on track with our sexy plans!
Jack tapped his credit card to pay for the ride and we got out of the car.
I checked my watch to see it was just a few minutes after eight a.m. I was groggy, I smelled ripe, and my muscles ached liked I’d been in a bar brawl.
From my vantage point I covertly looked up and down the street and over Pariser Platz, which, at this early hour was already filling up with groups of tourists keen to begin their city tour.
We knew the men who abducted us took one of the keycards for our hotel room.
The plan was to make a beeline for the elevator and get into our room to see what they’d done. Oh, as if it would be that easy!
“I can’t see anyone acting strange,” Jack said softly.
“Same. Think it’s safe to go in?”
“Should we not just go to a police station and report what happened?”
“Fuck no! We can’t go to the authorities. Can you imagine if the press got a hold of this story?” I exclaimed. “We tell our agents what happened so they can put out any fires,” I said decisively, “That’s all.”
“Lucy’s gonna be so mad with me. Who chooses a club that doesn’t allow phones? It’s like we were asking for trouble,” Jack grumbled.
“Don’t beat yourself up. Let’s just go inside and get cleaned up.”
“Yeah, I’m so hungry my stomach is gonna start eating itself.
” Together we turned and walked toward the entrance.
The doorman opened the door for us with a curt welcome of ‘Guten morgen.’ We strode confidently across the busy lobby.
I figured that if we got to the elevator quickly, we could remain unnoticed.
The familiar scents of coffee and pastries made my belly growl and I would have loved to take a detour to the breakfast buffet, but our priority was to get to our room.
Habitually I made eye contact with one of the reception clerks and nodded a greeting as we passed.
He blinked, shuddered, and then called, “Sirs? Entschuldigen Sie! Sirs!”
I clasped Jack’s hand, “Keep walking, babe,” I urged, and we continued as if we hadn’t heard him.
“Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Timothy. I insist, a moment please,” the man called anxiously.
Damn it. Now he’d addressed us directly using our fake names we couldn’t duck out. I dropped Jack’s hand and turned to see the clerk had rounded the counter and was rushing after us. He wore an expression I could only call harried.
“Sirs please excuse me,” he paused when he got closer and saw our faces. “Oh, rough night, ja?” he grimaced. I gave the clerk a derisive look. But Jack tried to lighten the mood, joking “Ha! Yeah, you should see the other guy!” I gave him the same unimpressed look. Not the time dude, not-the-time!
“The hotel manager, Herr Vogel, instructed to keep a look out for you and bring you to our head of security, Frau Karin Bruker as soon as you return to the hotel. The manager will meet you in the security office.”
“Why?” I quizzed,
“There was an incident…in your suite…they will explain everything,” the middle-aged desk clerk informed.
“Uh, I beg your pardon?” Jack huffed, sounding like a haughty member of the British establishment.
I was aware that the chips were beneath my trainer insole. Some very bad men were looking for them, men who could’ve been watching us since we set foot in the city. They could be watching us now!
“No, hang on a sec,” I demanded with the entitled agitation of an American abroad. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what the hell happened!”
The clerk appeared sheepish and his eyes darted around suspiciously before, in a stage whisper he said, “It’s not my place, but…while you were out last night…someone broke into your suite and well…destroyed it,” he winced.
“What the actual fuck?” Jack exclaimed. “How did that happen? Can we at least go up to the room and get our cases and belongings?”
“Um…this is a problem. You see, the men who did this slashed, well…everything. Apparently, the room is a disaster,” the clerk said succinctly.
“Am I hearing this right?” I said, shocked. “Are you telling me we don’t even have a change of clothes?”
“I am so sorry.” The man then pivoted and called, “Herr Vogel, sir. These are the gentlemen, yes?” while keenly gesturing to us.
The hotel manager was in his early forties, bald, and wearing a smart dark grey suit with the hotel logo on the breast pocket.
He passed a file to the other clerk manning the reception and then rushed over to us.
“Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Timothy, I’m Stefan Vogel, the hotel manager,” the man said, offering his hand.
I saw him flinch the moment he noticed our small injuries, my split lip and grazed knuckles, and Jack’s bruised cheek.
Then as we both shook his hand; his eyes fell to the bruises around our wrists.
Herr Vogel said nothing about what he’d observed, but straightened and ponderously admitted,
“This is a…delicate situation. We will go to the security office for a private conversation, ja!”
“Lead on Herr Vogel,” Jack replied chirpily and we followed the manager as he led us behind the reception counter, through a doorway and down a blessedly cool corridor.
We were taken into a large room where a bank of security screens displayed interior and exterior scenes from the hotel with two techies watching them.
There was no getting away from the fact we both smelled ripe and it didn’t take a genius to see we’d been out all night and looked like we’d been involved a fight.
I shared a glance of silent communication with Jack, and yeah, he got me.
It wouldn’t do us any good if we explained that we were dragged off the street, drugged, interrogated and locked in a cabin on a ship hotel—all because someone planted a bunch of what were probably stolen computer chips on me.
We’d need to fake it, lie, and improvise.
Herr Vogel knocked on an office door, opened it without waiting for a response.
“Please, come in gentlemen,” a woman said as she rose from her desk and gestured for us all to take a seat in a lounge area.
Her blonde hair was in a tight air stewardess bun, and she wore the hotel branded uniform.
She offered her hand pursing her lips when she saw the bruise around my wrist. Her eyes shot up to give me a questioning look that I didn’t answer.
“Karin Bruker, head of security,” she introduced.
“Nate Linden,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Jack Boyd,” Jack said as he mirrored the pleasantries.
“Gentlemen, are you okay? You look a little worse for wear,” Frau Bruker said, gesturing to our bruised faces.
“Just a misunderstanding at a bar last night,” I explained, “A drunken fan wanted a selfie. He didn’t like it when I said no.
” I’d experienced altercations like this before.
A man in a bar in Texas had called me a ‘fuckin’ fag’, and then had the gall to ask me to take a selfie with his daughter.
I said no and he threatened to shoot me!
It didn’t end well for him, as luckily, I was with my personal protection officer who ‘dealt with the situation’.
“You should get ice on your cheek Mr. Boyd; I will get an ice pack for you.” Without waiting for a response from Jack, Frau Bruker rose and moved back to her desk where she made a quick call and spoke in German.
She then came to the lounge area and sat opposite us.
Herr Vogel remained standing behind his security expert.
“We understand that you are actors with the Maritime studios party,” Bruker said.
“Yes, that’s correct. “The rest of our party arrives on Thursday,” Jack informed.
“Who knew that you decided to visit to Berlin early?”
“That information isn’t public. We wanted a quite city break before the publicity campaign and movie première. We told our agents we’d be in Berlin a few days early, that’s it,” I explained.
“Do either of you have any connections to Berlin? Friends, or enemies?”
“It’s my first time here, and honestly, the only person I know here is Jack,” I replied before Jack spoke up.
“I know Berlin well. But I didn’t tell my friends I was arriving early.
I don’t know anyone who’d trash my hotel room, like, who does that?
For starters, RUDE!” Jack pouted camply.
The haughty, camp persona Jack was using was hilarious, and my god, it tested me.
I wanted to bark out a laugh, but I restrained myself and asked,
“Look. Can you tell us what’s going on?”
Herr Vogel spoke up first, “We take hotel security very seriously, and this is a highly unusual occurrence,” he simpered, clearly wanting to cover his ass.
“Not seriously enough if someone broke into our suite!” Jack huffed. We eyed one another in the awkward silence that followed, before Vogel said,