“Yeah, sure.”
Nydia placed a forefinger under her eye, then pointed around, and flashed her killer smile as she slid into the revolving doors.
When she returned, Caesar quickly opened the front door for her and said, “Check out the front desk. Four guys, only one big rolling bag? Don’t feel right.”
Nydia muttered, “Thanks,” and focused instantly on the men at the top of the landing. They had their backs to her, taking no notice of her in the huge, multistoried lobby.
The four stood in pairs of two.
Nydia didn’t have to look at them for more than a second to know they were trouble. She angled to her right, quickly stepped up a half flight of stairs, making sure to stay far enough away so she wouldn’t catch their attention. She pulled out her cell phone and slid into a chair, keeping the men in her peripheral vision.
One man stood talking to the hotel clerk at the main desk. He was tall, bald, and looked ready to kill someone, perhaps because someone had recently broken his nose. There was adhesive tape across the bridge and both eyes were blackened. On his left, stood a man with a large rolling duffel bag.
Two others stood as a pair off to the right of the bald man talking to the clerk. They both wore dark overcoats, good shoes, dress pants. One of them leaned in between the bald man with the broken nose and the hotel clerk to ask something. She pointed toward the rear of the hotel. Both men peeled off, leaving others with the rolling bag at the desk.
Nydia guessed he had asked for the men’s room, but as soon as the two of them reached the middle section of the hotel where the elevators were, they stopped, looking to see which set of elevators to take.
Nydia had already dialed Beck. Listening to the phone ring, she said to herself quietly, “Pick up, motherfucker.”
41
There were two elevators that opened onto the fortieth floor. Beck waited and waited. He pushed the buttons again. It seemed like minutes had passed, but it was closer to thirty seconds. Finally, Beck felt more than heard the air being pushed ahead of the elevator rising to their right.
The elevator door vibrated. Beck reached behind him for Olivia, feeling for her as he faced the elevator. And suddenly, he cursed.
“Shit. We’ve been out here too long.”
He moved Olivia to the left, away from the corridor where they’d come from. He backed up quickly, gently guiding Olivia to the east corridor while he faced the elevator, gun ready as they moved out of sight around the corner.
Just as they made it into the east corridor, the elevator door opened and Beck heard somebody step out of the elevator. He craned his head around just enough to see two men in dark clothes head in the direction of Olivia’s room.
Beck moved very quickly, trying to remain completely quiet on the hallway carpeting. The elevator door had almost closed, but he just managed to get four fingers between the closing doors and force them open.
Olivia was right behind him. They slipped into the elevator, the doors closed, and before Beck could press any buttons, the elevator started to rise.
Beck snarled, “Shit.”
Beck’s agitation made Olivia nervous. She backed into a corner of the elevator.
The elevator stopped on the forty-fifth floor. A hotel waiter stood in the corridor with a room-service cart. He hesitated. Beck said, “Come on in. There’s plenty of room.”
Beck expected the elevator to reverse, but again it went up. He checked the digital numbers showing the floors the elevator serviced. This one served floors thirty-one to fifty-two. They rose past fifty, without slowing. The hotel waiter stood with his back to Beck, watching the floor indicators. Beck slipped the Browning into the pocket of his shearling coat.
*
One of Kolenka’s men pressed his ear against Olivia’s door, trying to hear movement inside the room. Nothing. He took out a small crowbar from underneath his overcoat and began to pry open the door just above the lock. It took a good deal of effort, but when the door popped free of the frame, it made surprisingly little noise.
The room was unoccupied, but the magazines and wrinkled bed top showed that someone had been in the room. They quickly searched for luggage or anything that might indicate the occupant would be returning, but there was nothing.
*
On the way up, Beck calculated how to play the situation.
If the two who had come up for Olivia got back on this elevator, what would they do? Would they know it was Olivia? Would they risk a move with a hotel employee on the elevator? What would happen when they hit the lobby? And who were they? How the hell had they found Olivia?
Beck’s thoughts were interrupted when the elevator stopped on fifty-two. There was nobody there. But just as the doors started to close, a woman appeared. She stopped the doors and stepped into the elevator. She was blond, dressed in a fake fur coat. She wore high heels and a blue dress that barely reached mid-thigh. She carried a large handbag on her left shoulder.
Hooker, Beck thought. And not a very expensive-looking one at that. She stepped to the back of the elevator, avoiding eye contact, hardly moving.
Her perfume filled the elevator, but it didn’t give the impression that she was clean and fresh. She looked worn out. Intent on leaving the hotel without causing any notice.
The elevator started down. Christ, thought Beck, if things go bad, if shooting starts, now there were two more people who could get hit. The complications had escalated exponentially.
But then again, the more people who got out in the lobby, the better their chances of getting to an exit before the two waiting downstairs could sort out who was who.
Then the elevator slowed down and stopped on forty, and all of Beck’s calculations changed.