"I suppose it has to do with whatever is in that briefcase.”
I called Isabella, my contact at Cobra Company. It was an off-the-books clandestine agency. Isabella had vast intelligence resources. If anyone could figure out who Steve Davidson was and why someone would want his briefcase, it would be her.
She answered after a few rings. “What kind of trouble are you in now?”
“Why would you assume I’m in trouble?” I teased.
She scoffed. “I know better.”
“There is a slight situation you could help me with.” I filled her in on the incident.
“I’ll see what I can find out about the victim. Send me a picture of him and his briefcase when you get a chance. I’ve gotta run. It’s a little hectic around here at the moment.”
I thanked her and ended the call.
With a watchful eye on the rearview mirror, I pulled into the parking lot at the Seven Seas and drove under the carportby the main entrance. I hopped out of the vehicle, kept the keys, and told the valet I'd only be a few minutes. I was not about to hand over the keys and let him go for a joy ride in the squad car.
I helped Paisley out of the vehicle, took the briefcase, and escorted her into the lobby. At the front desk, I flashed my badge and said, "I need a room. Preferably on an upper floor.”
The cute brunette behind the counter tapped the keys. "I'm sorry, Deputy, but we're all booked up at the moment.”
"This is official county business,” I said with a smile. “Surely there is something you can do?”
3
After chatting with her manager, the desk clerk returned and smiled. “You’re in luck. I can put you in Suite #412. Will that be okay?”
“Perfect,” I said. “You can bill the county.”
“I’ll need a credit card for incidentals.”
I forked over a credit card, and she programmed two keys.
“Put the reservation under Tim Wilson,” I said, not wanting any connection to either of us.
I thanked her, then escorted Paisley across the opulent lobby to the elevators. Tourists came and went, and forks clinked against plates in the dining area. A few people occupied the bar, tipping back fruity cocktails.
The door slid open, and we stepped aboard the elevator. I pressed the button for level four, and it lit up. The carriage stuttered, and lights flashed. It was a brief, worrisome moment before it continued. Paisley and I shared an uneasyglance. Getting stuck in this elevator was the last thing I wanted at the moment.
We successfully made it up to the fourth floor, and the door slid open. We stepped off the elevator, and I escorted Paisley down the hallway, keeping a cautious eye on our surroundings.
At the suite, I slipped the key card into the slot, and the light flashed green. With a twist of the handle, I pushed open the door and ushered Paisley inside. I cleared the bedroom and bathroom as a precaution.
You could never be too careful.
I put the briefcase on the bed and tried to open it. Just as Paisley had said, there was no way to access it. This was a high-tech briefcase. Biotech sensors on handles would read the owner’s thumbprint. I'm sure there was some type of backup system to access the case—perhaps a Bluetooth connection with a password. A case like this didn't come cheap. It was most likely bulletproof and tamper-resistant. I'm sure it had GPS tracking. I hoped that tracking data would only be available to the owner.
I fiddled with it a little bit, but didn't see a way, short of taking a cutting torch or buzz saw to it. Even then, I suspected it would be difficult to get inside.
I took a picture and sent it to Isabella.
"What am I supposed to do about clothes and personal hygiene items?" Paisley asked.
"Call the front desk. Have them bring up a complementary toothbrush and toothpaste. In the meantime, if you give meyour keys, I will go to your home and pick up some clothes and whatever else you want.”
She gave me a suspicious look. "I'm not sure I want to give a perfect stranger the keys to my apartment. There's no telling what you might find."
I understood her concern. "Look, if you’ve got any weed or drugs, I don't care. I'm not gonna bust you. My concern is that case and the people who shot your passenger.”
