CHAPTER 30
O nce Dmitri had the name of Halim’s hotel, he headed up I-275, back to Tampa, past all the small farming towns of Central Florida he'd never been to, then Orlando, before turning north on I-95. With no traffic between there and Jacksonville, he could floor it, his luxury coupe topping 140 mph and still riding smooth. After Jacksonville, there was open road again, on up into Georgia.
Now and then the radar detector reminded him to slow down just a little. He didn't like behaving, but he had to be good, for Sonya.
It was a couple of hours after dusk when fatigue hit him. Somewhere in North Carolina or Virginia, around midnight, he had to slap himself to keep from nodding off at the wheel.
Dmitri was running on pure adrenaline now. He hadn't slept the night before. And he wouldn't sleep until Sonya was safe.
He got to New York City an hour or two after dawn and parked next door to the Red Square. He didn't think anyone would be waiting to ambush him there, since they couldn't have suspected he'd show up. But Dmitri knew the staff of the Red Square, and he didn't want a valet, bellhop or concierge to mention to the wrong person that they'd just seen him.
Yet a six-foot-five, 230-pound Russian tank like him couldn't sneak through reception unnoticed by putting on a fake mustache. So he walked down the alley beside the Red Square, disabled the burglary alarm like Andre had taught him years before, and jogged up the emergency stairs.
When he got to the second floor, he looked down the corridor. All the doors were shut. He did the same on the third and then the fourth floor before finding an open door. He walked down the hallway and peered into the room.
Empty. Dmitri stepped inside and shut the door, then picked up the phone by the bed and dialed #1 for reception.
“Good morning, this is David in reception. How can I help you?”
“Hi, this is John,” Dmitri said, doing his best to hide his Russian accent. “My associate is staying here also, but I forgot his room number. Halim Amjad?”
“Yes, sir. He's in the penthouse. Top floor, the only room there.”
“Oh, of course, of course.”
“Should I connect you to his room?”
“No, no thank you. I'll just stop by to chat in person.”
“Very well, sir.”
Dmitri hung up.
The penthouse! I've never even gotten the penthouse, he thought. Is Halim just helping that traitor Ivan, or is his sucking his dick too?
The electronic door lock beeped. Somebody was coming in the room.
“Dmitri!”
“Hi, Eva,” he said to the cleaning lady as she walked in. She had the key card in her hand.
“I didn't know you were coming. Your uncle was here just a few days ago and didn't mention it.”
“Oh, he didn't know I was coming, either. I'm making a surprise visit. In fact, don't tell anyone you saw me today. Not him, not the staff, nobody.”
He slipped the elderly lady a one hundred dollar bill as he made his request, adding a wink and a smile.
“Of course,” she said, motioning with her fingers to show she was zipping her mouth shut.
“Thank you, dear.”
“Well, I forgot to leave a new shampoo bottle in the bathroom and came back to do it. Sorry to bother you. I didn't think anybody would be in the room yet.”
“That's all right, Eva. Just remember our little secret.”
My uncle? Dmitri thought as Eva left the room.
She must be confused. She saw that other old Russian. So he's in the US. Or at least he was here not long ago.
Ivan Veselov, my uncle? Hah!