The Housewife Assassin's Hostage Hosting Tips (Housewife Assassin Series Book 9) (30 page)

He sighs, but says nothing. Finally, he murmurs, “The Savoy, in Beverly Hills. In a few moments I’ll be meeting with some international delegates to have a serious discussion about ISIL–”

“I’ll be right up!”
 

“It’ll take you too long to get here. Even with my police escort, The 405 was a God-awful mess–”

“No, I mean I’m already here, in the Savoy! For my son’s prom!”
 

“Oh! …Well, in that case–aw hell, our connection is awful! Call me on the house line. Ask for Lee Lyon’s room.” He hangs up.

There is a house phone on a side table in the alcove. I ask the operator to connect me with Lee’s pseudonym.

Even before I’m able to say something, Lee answers. “I’ll send someone from my Secret Service detail down to the lobby to get you.”
 

He must have put his hand over the phone for a moment, because the sound is muffled. When he finally gets back on, he says, “Ed is on his way. Head over to the elevator room for the penthouses. It’s hidden behind–”

“I know where it is,” I interrupt tersely. “In fact, I’m in the alcove outside of it as we speak. I have a penthouse here too.”

“That’s…convenient,” he murmurs.

The only thing I can think of is to say, “Jack thinks so.”

“What do I think?” Jack’s voice says behind me.

I turn to see him standing behind me–

With Mara, Ryan, and Arnie. They’re dressed formally, in suits, although Arnie’s is a size too small in the gut and the arms. Everyone looks shocked to see me.

“And what the hell are you doing here, Donna?” Jack mutters.

“Hello to you, too,” I say coldly. “Excuse me? Have you forgotten that Jeff’s prom is being held here, right now–and that I’m in charge of it?”

Before I have time to respond to him, the door opens. A burly man sticks his head out. I recognize him as one of the Secret Service agents I’ve seen before, who’s always trailing Lee.
 

Jack frowns. “Lee is here, too–and you conveniently forgot to mention it?”

Ed looks suspiciously at Jack. “If you’re ready, Mrs. Stone, the president will see you now.”

I follow him toward the elevator.

And Jack, Ryan, Mara, and Arnie follow me.

The man puts his hand on Jack’s chest. Nodding in my direction, he says, “Just her.”

Jack knocks it away.

I wedge myself between them. “Ed, POTUS is expecting them too.”
 

My eyes don’t waver. Finally, he steps aside to let us enter.

I go to the back of the elevator. Jack makes it a point to stand beside me. Like everyone else, we stare straight ahead. “By the way, I did leave you a message,” I mutter to him. “Several, in fact, from the moment I learned Lee was in Los Angeles. You should check your cell every now and then.” I look him up and down. “For that matter, where have you been for the past twenty-four hours?”

“Here,” he hisses back. “We broke the cipher. One of the conference delegates is a plant. I’ve been leaving messages for you, too, asking you where you are!”

“He’s right,” Arnie pipes in. “Cell phone service around the hotel is crappy. Something’s wrong. My guess is there is some sort of transmission jammer in the building.”

When the elevator bell rings to announce us, Jack holds me back for a moment. “I’m sorry I forgot where the prom was being held. The hotel’s name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.”

It’s understandable, considering you have a lot on your mind,
I want to say, but I hold my tongue because, just then, the elevator doors open.

Lee is standing there. He has a smile on his face, and anticipation in his eyes–

Until he sees Jack, at which point he murmurs, “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.”

Apparently, he considers the man who was staring at me from the balcony as part of the gang, because he’s here too.

Walther grins when he sees me.

I do my best to keep from scowling at him.

Chapter 19

Making Introductions

A party only gets started when your guests have been introduced to each other. These tips will get the ball rolling at a breakneck pace:

A: Make intriguing introductions. “Dolores, do you know Sylvia? No? Surprising! I could have sworn she was ‘the other woman’ for whom your husband left you. Isn’t that so, Syl? Can I get anyone a drink?”

B: Don’t be afraid to introduce controversy. For example: “Lydia, I’d like you to meet Horace. He just got out of prison after serving time for manslaughter. Horace, Lydia believes in the death penalty for all kinds of felonies. Can I freshen anyone’s drink?”

C: Be sure to point out commonalities. “Joe, do you know Elvira? No? Odd! I’d have guessed you would, since you attend many of the same orgies. Elvira, show him that little tattoo on your inner thigh. It may jog his memory. In the meantime, does anyone want a cocktail wienie? Oh! …No offense, Joe…”

Lee introduces us to his other guests. Walther’s last name is Achterberg. He is a state secretary in Germany’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and recently assigned the additional position of chairman of the UN Middle East Peace Consortium.

It’s why he rates the penthouse suite overlooking mine.

Besides him, the United States Secretary of State, James Worthington, is here, as is Walther’s assistant, a young and beautiful woman named Gretta Kruger; and Luther Fried, the Consortium’s Chief of Security.

Gretta doesn’t speak, so I can’t compare her voice to that of the woman I heard earlier today while I was sunbathing on the terrace. But by the casual way in which Walther touches her hand as he passes her a note, I presume she is one and the same.

I recognize Luther’s name, if not his face. He is retired from Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency, where he headed up the Political Action and Liaison Department, the unit charged with interfacing with other intel agencies from around the world.

Everyone listens quietly as Jack spells out everything Acme now knows about the meeting that is to take place downstairs:

That ISIL has been tracking their moves for quite some time; that there will be an attempt to sabotage the meeting–perhaps use it as a hostage situation; and that this intel is coming from the inside.

When Jack is finished, all eyes turn to Lee. He, in turn, glances over at Walther.

“Does your intelligence indicate how this attack is to happen?” Walther asks Jack.

“No,” Jack concedes. “But if it is an inside job, the saboteur could do so by letting in the assassins once the meeting is underway, or he or she could release some sort of harmful agent that incapacitates the attendees.”

“But we’ve taken every precaution! Our security detail has been well-vetted, as have the committee members,” Luther Fried insists. “If what you say is true, the source must have identified the saboteur in some manner.”

“Only by a code name–
Sin
,” Ryan declares.

Walther shrugs. “Even his name has an element of foreboding. Are we to presume it indicates the level of chaos to be expected?”

“Our organization is leaning toward its Sumarian interpretation,” Ryan explains. “In that case,
Sin
is the mythological name of a deity–the Moon god. Even in that capacity, it represents darkness as opposed to light, war as opposed to peace. This god is symbolized by a crescent moon.”

“This is an insightful history lesson, but sadly, we are already a quarter-hour behind schedule.” Walther looks at his watch. “I can assure you that each of the committee’s members and its support staff have gone through extensive security checks–and not just by our own country, but yours as well.”

Lee nods. “If that weren’t the case, I would not be here to participate.”

“Mr. President, if what Acme suspects is correct, at the very least, our operatives–or for that matter, your Secret Service detail–should do one more security check before you go into that meeting room,” I counter.

He stares at me before conceding with a nod. He turns to Worthington. “It is presumed no one else knows I’m to attend. Is that correct?”

Worthington nods, as does Walther.

Walther turns to Gretta. “Escort the president’s men.”

Lee turns to his Secret Service detail. “Ed, you and Charlie from Secretary Worthington’s detail will go with Ms. Kruger, Mr. Fried, and Secretary Worthington. So that the delegates aren’t alarmed, let me suggest that Gretta introduce them as hotel security, as opposed to White House personnel. If you feel the coast is clear, send up a white smoke signal.”

“I’d like Mara to accompany them, too,” Jack suggests.

“Good idea,” Lee agrees.

If Mara hadn’t been here, it would have been me. Instead, I must get back downstairs to see what other havoc has taken place in the ballroom since I left it.

As I follow them to the Emmy Suite’s elevator, Jack grabs my hand. “Where are you going?”

“To deal with more mundane issues. There are two hundred children downstairs, having a food fight while a chorus line of trannies lip syncing through a pop star’s greatest hits. Do me a favor and send me a text if it turns out we need to evacuate.”

“Trust me, Donna–cancel the party.” From the look in his eyes, I know he’s worried about collateral damage.

I nod to let him know I hear him, and run after the group going into the elevator.

Since everyone else is getting off first, I position myself near the back of the elevator. Mara notices this, and finds her way back there with me.

The ride is a short one. No one speaks. Instead, everyone looks forward.
 

When the elevator door opens, the others bolt down the hall toward the meeting room. The door is open, but no one can be seen, except the four security guards. They allow the newcomers to enter, then close ranks behind them.

Before I can push the button for the lobby, Mara places her hand over my wrist to get my attention. “Donna, don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

I nod, but I have nothing to say. I get it: she’s fearless. But that’s because she has nothing to lose: whereas I have everything.

She’s about to walk out of the elevator when we hear it–the whiz of bullets and the screams.
 

Mara and I duck back on opposite sides of the elevator. We’re shielded by the part of the elevator platform not exposed to the open doors, but we look out just the same. She’s already pulled her gun from her back holster.
 

Having presumed that the only fights I’d be breaking up are between two girls crying over the same pimply-faced guy, I have no weapon. Then I remember that the stilettos I’m wearing really do have stilettos as heels, so I yank off the heels and pocket the blades so that my shoes are now flats.
 

We look out just in time to see Charlie and Luther flailing backward as they are riddled with bullets.

Ed runs back down the hall toward us.

Just as he enters the elevator, someone appears in the hallway with a semi-automatic.

The maid.

Oh…
shit
.

When Ed sees our faces, instinctively he turns back around.

The bullets from her gun slam into his chest.

I slide my hand up in order to push my security card into the slot above the elevator buttons.

Just then, the maid realizes Ed wasn’t alone in the elevator. She points her gun–

The bullets pierce the doors just as they slide shut.