CHAPTER TWENTY–SIX
Jack
I’d shaved, and with my hair styled to give me the disguise of a fringe, I crossed Pariser Platz dressed in the plain black slacks and a white shirt I’d found on the garment on the rack in the lounge.
It was twelve thirty-p.m. and according to the conference agenda lunch service would begin at one p.m. A skinny young woman was standing in an alcove of the building smoking a cigarette, her hip cocked as she swiped on her phone.
She was wearing a white blouse, black skirt, and vest bearing a logo I recognized from my web search; it was the Palace Catering logo.
“Excuse me,” I said in German, “I don’t suppose I could get a cigarette?” She looked up from her phone and then eyed me up and down suspiciously.
“Are you a delegate or staff?”
“Staff. Artur asked a favour, last minute. He said the delegates were complaining about a lack of staff for the lunch rush.”
“Yeah, Klaus, Andrea, and Miguel all got sick. Fucking COVID they say it’s over…but it’s never ending,” she huffed. Then, gesturing to my bruised cheek she asked, “You in a fight? Artur won’t be happy if he sees that!”
“I tried to cover it up…does it look bad? I don’t want to lose this job. I got rent and bills piling up,” I winced.
“Yeah, same. Marlboro okay?” she said opening her cigarette packet and offering it to me.
“Sure, thanks.” I plucked the cigarette from the packet and placed it between my lips. “Erika,” she said conversationally as she pulled a slim lighter from the cigarette packet and with a press of her thumb, struck a flame for me.
“Thanks Erika, you’re a life saver!” I leaned forward and made direct, flirty eye contact as I let her light the tip.
I’d always found this ritual of lighting another person’s cigarette to be an intimate one.
It seemed Erika thought so too because she smiled coquettishly and her cheeks pinkened.
Covertly, while Erika was lost in my brown eyes and considerable allure, I’d unclipped the security pass from her belt, and pocketed it.
I leaned back against the wall, and took a few nostalgic puffs, remembering my brief sojourn into being a smoker in my twenties.
It lasted all of two weeks before I got sick of coughing up a lung each morning and my clothes smelling of smoke all the time.
“I have concealer, if it would help,” Erika said, reaching into her tote bag and retrieving a small round compact.
“Oh, yeah, cool, give it a try,” I suggested, pleased by this turn of events. Erika rested her cigarette on a window ledge, and then using her fingers instead of the powder compact, she leaned in and gently applied the makeup to my face. I’d taken Ibuprofen to dull the pain, so felt nothing.
“It’s not exactly the right shade for your skin tone,” she said, her cheeks rosy as she patted the concealer on my face, “But it dulls the bruise a bit. What do you think?” She turned the compact’s mirror so I could see.
She was right. It had taken some of the bright colour from the bruise, even if it wasn’t perfect.
“Thanks, it looks great,” I gave her a wide smile and saw how she almost vibrated with pleasure.
“Shit, what time is it?” I asked in a sudden anxious tone.
Erika checked her phone, “Twelve-forty-five.”
“Fuck, I’d better go in.” I extinguished the cigarette on the wall.
“Thanks, I’ll save this for my break. I owe you a drink!
See you in there!” Without a backward glance I hurried towards the main entrance to the building.
I hadn’t even given Erika a fake name. I stealthily tossed the cigarette in a bin outside the venue.
On entering the foyer of the Axica Conference Centre, I paused and checked my phone while covertly surveilling the security process for the delegates.
Security looked tight, with airport style metal detectors, along with security staff ready to wand, or pat down any delegates who set off the alarm.
To my right there was a table for delegates to collect their ID’s, and behind the table was a staff-only door with a badge entry system for employees.
A couple of young men wearing white shirts, black trousers and Palace Catering vests were deep in conversation about football as they passed me.
Each man swiped his ID and then entered through the staff door.
Telling myself I belonged here I strode confidently towards the door, not making eye contact with anyone.
I swiped Erika’s card and passed through the door, then let the ID card drop on the floor outside the door before it closed.
I didn’t want to get the woman into trouble for losing her ID.
I strode down a hallway following laughter of the two of men in front of me.
The scent of coffee and the funk of a mixture of cooked foods made a sickly aroma.
I passed several closed office doors before I came to a large communal break room where uniformed staff chatted and ate their lunch before the rush to serve the delegates.
The men had stopped here to have their pick from the complimentary lunch selection on the counter.
No one noticed me and I didn’t go in. Further down the hall was a door for the men’s restrooms. I pushed through the door to discover a huge bisected room.
In one half was a line of lockers and benches, and the other was a bathroom.
As I was alone, I took the opportunity to search for a vest and tie to complete my disguise.
Once I had the disguise in place, I’d befriend someone else and walk with them to get access to the venue floor, then it was just a case of finding the events office and attempting to get access to the delegate database.
A toilet flushed and I realized I wasn’t alone. I pulled open an unused locker and hid behind the door, peeking out as a man stepped up to the sink and washed his hands. What the hell was he doing in the staff bathroom? I closed the locker door and strode toward the man.
“Oi! I want a word with you,” I growled inhabiting the no nonsense character of Aden Baker.
Jorgen looked up into the mirror and seeing me striding up behind him, his eyes grew as wide like a startled deer.
He tried to make a break for the main door but I was quicker and beat him to it, blocking his exit.
He held his wet hands up and backed away.
I never thought I was scary, but Hugh appeared terrified so I guess I must be a bloody good actor!
“W…what do you want…my shift starts in a few minutes…someone will come looking,” the Swede warned as he continued to step back into the bathroom area.
“Who are you working for? Why did you plant that credit card on my friend?”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about…you’re crazy man. Go before I start shouting…I will shout…they will come…you will be sorry, the security guards have guns and everything—” he threatened, but the bob of his Adams apple gave him away.
“Go on then…do it!” I said full of bravado.
Hugh’s eyes darted around looking for an escape.
Then all of a sudden, he pivoted and rushed into a toilet cubicle, slamming the door, not quickly enough though, because I barged in before he could slip the lock, forcing him back to sit on the closed lid of the toilet.
I pushed the door shut then locked it. Dragging Hugh up by the tie I pushed him against the wall.
He automatically put his hands up, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he made me do it, I couldn’t turn down that much money,” the Scandinavian man said in a pitiful stream.
“Who made you do it?” I snarled, as I pressed against him chest-to-chest, trying my best to look menacing. “Who do you work for?”
“P…P…Palace Catering,” the blond man stuttered.
“No, who do you work for?”
“I swear, this is my job, I’m a waiter. Look, I don’t want trouble…I’ll tell you everything, just go easy man…don’t hurt me.” I nodded and loosened my hold on his tie. He took a deep breath before revealing,
“A few days ago this man came up to me at an event I was working. He asked if I wanted to earn some extra cash. You’ve got to understand, everything is so fucking expensive…
we all need extra, you know, so I thought, yeah, what the hell.
He showed me a photo, of you…and your friend.
All I had to do is follow you, just to see what you were doing, and when I got a chance, I was to plant a credit card on him.
The man said he’d pay for a night at a five-star hotel and that he’d leave instructions at the reception desk.
I thought it was…strange…but he offered to pay me ten thousand Euros for the day.
Do you know what that money will do for me?
I couldn’t turn that down…ten thousand Euros, man… you gotta believe me!”
“What event were you working when you met him?”
“It was at the Institute of Technology, an AI start-up event.”
“Was the man who approached you Chinese?”
“No, no, American. He was older, handsome, silver hair, close cropped beard.” That description sounded like Nate’s soon-to-be ex-husband!
“How did he contact you afterward?”
“No contact. I don’t have his number, don’t even know his name.
He left an envelope for me at the hotel with instructions.
There was a second envelope when I checked out.
I didn’t stay the night—got too scared. I picked up the second envelope when the job was done.
Someone was following me for the whole fuckin’ day, man! It freaked the hell out of me!”
“His name?” I pressed. “What’s his name?”
“I told you, no name. He said that there would be no trouble. He said your friend was expecting the card…but I had to be circumspect. Waiters gotta be light on our feet. I thought I could do the exchange in the park, but I didn’t get a chance so I followed you to the club…
jumped in a taxi and asked it to trail yours.
Look, what are you gonna do man? I can’t lose this job,” he whined.