THE ORANGE MOON AFFAIR (15 page)

She pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope and read through them quickly. “Wow. These from Danny?”

“Yes.”

“So that guy you shot in Belfast, Boyd, his real name is Charlie Mullen, with a rap sheet that goes back decades, mostly for drugs and smuggling illegal immigrants into the country. It says here that he worked for Coltrane Engineering and Construction Company outside Mojave. Near Edwards Air Base, or spaceport or whatever it's called now.”

“But there doesn't seem to be any connection to De Costas, at least nothing Danny could find. But we do know that De Costas has a new office building downtown and there is an opening gala tomorrow evening.”

Julie put the papers back into the envelope and tossed it onto the table. “So what's your plan?”

“Crash the party and see what Samuel De Costas has to say for himself. I want to know what this guy looks and sounds like.”

“And just how do you propose to get invited?”

I paused for a moment smiling before answering. “Your father. Get him on the phone, I know it's early but he can add us to the computer's guest list as Mr and Mrs Thomas Gunn. We don’t want our aliases compromised.”

“Is that a proposal, Thomas? I thought you weren't into the whole marriage thing.”

I leaned over and kissed her. “Maybe. Guess you have to wait to find out.”

“Yeah, right I won't hold my breath. Anyway I'm not sure he's going to want to hack into somebody's system,” Julie said doubtfully.

“Don't be too sure. And I want a recording of my father's video as well as schematics of the building.”

We waited another hour so it wasn't too early and then Julie called. I was right, Professor Oldfield was more than happy to oblige, even providing Julie with an algorithm to install in De Costas' computer system if we could get to the mainframe, which would enable us to track all De Costas' online transactions, past present and future. Julie downloaded it to a small flash drive.

The new headquarters
of De Costas Global Enterprises was impressive. A tall, thin, glass and steel skyscraper with transparent lift shafts running up the outside of the building.

As we walked towards the entrance I thought that this structure made the Gunn Group office look like a shabby back street walk-up. Once inside the foyer, we discovered a sign on one of the elevators for the
'De Costas Automotive Gala'
. The ride up to the twentieth floor was spectacular as San Francisco unfolded below us. It was a shame when the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the reception area. A girl with a bright smile greeted us and asked us for our names which she checked off against the computer list. Beyond her, in the ballroom sized conference room, the sound of light jazz and murmur of voices, drifted sinuously through the sterile air dampened by the plush carpet and insulated walls.

“That's wonderful, enjoy the party Mr and Mrs Gunn,” the receptionist breathed showing off her extremely white teeth.

“Actually I have a meeting with Mr De Costas. Please tell him we are here.”

The girl frowned. “He asked not to be disturbed for the next thirty minutes. If you don't mind waiting until he returns to the party.”

I turned and looked at Julie. “A bit rude to leave your own party, isn't?” I said turning back to the girl, who was now flustered.

“He hasn't actually arrived yet.”

“Then perhaps we should wait in his office until he does, he did give a specific time for the meeting.” There was no way we were going to be allowed to wait in De Costas office, but that's not what I was looking for, it was the involuntary movement of her eyes which pointed the way to De Costas' office.

“Please if you will join the party I will let him know you are here just as soon as he arrives,” she said nervously, and again flickered her eyes down the corridor to the right.

Julie smiled and took my arm. “I want a glass of champagne and a plate of caviar please darling. Business can wait.”

I put my best
'I'm pissed off but I'll do what my wife says'
face on, glowered at the receptionist and allowed Julie to steer me into the party.

Galas are the same the world over. Expensive food, expensive drink, beautiful women hanging onto the arms of mostly balding rich old men, and young
wannabes
eying the room for any opportunities to enter the elite circle of the city's wealthiest and most powerful people.

But I wasn't thinking about any of that, I was looking for a door at the end of the conference room that would lead back into the corridor and so to De Costas' office. I saw what I was looking for and steered Julie slowly across the room, stood with my back to the door and tried the handle. It opened and we slipped out into the corridor unnoticed. The receptionist was busy with more guests and did not see us walk away down the corridor and turn the corner. In front of us was the outer office to De Costas' suite, with a well-built young man sitting at a desk facing us. He looked up as we walked toward him.

“May I help you?” he asked politely, his eyes cold and a slight bump beneath the left breast of his immaculately tailored suit, indicating a small automatic, I guessed a Beretta rather like the one I had given Julie.

“Thomas Gunn to see Mr Samuel De Costas.”

“I'm afraid Mr De Costas is....” the young man began.

“Please. Just tell him I'm here,” I said quietly but firmly.

“Really....” the young man started to say, then rose quickly to his feet as I crossed to the closed door and flung it open before he could stop me.

There were three men and one woman in the office. One man I took to be Samuel De Costas sitting behind a large oak desk with his back to the window overlooking San Francisco Bay, a woman seated in an armchair to the side and two well built young men, obviously bodyguards, standing on either side of the room. They moved quickly toward me as I walked toward the desk. The man behind the desk waved the young bodyguards away and stared at me.

“Mr Thomas Gunn. What may I do for you?” he said. Samuel De Costas looked more like a benign accountant. He was short, slim with a slightly egg shaped balding head with amber eyes that flickered and glittered like a cobra. I turned to the woman who was probably in her mid thirties, expensively dressed, tall with long dark hair and striking green eyes. She looked at me with air of a Countess, as if I were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe. I thought I had seen her somewhere before, but just couldn't think where, perhaps because I was more concerned about De Costas.

The woman looked at De Costas disdainfully; rose collected a file from the desk, paused and said. “I'll be expecting that consignment in ten days.” It sounded like a command.

She swept past Julie and glanced at me with a slight smile, and I caught the slight smell of vanilla and another odour I was not familiar with, in her perfume.

I turned back to De Costas. “Rathborne Micro-Electronics Ltd.”

De Costas sat back gently in his oversized chair, watching me without smiling. He seemed uneasy and little irritated. “What about it?”

“It seems you are trying to buy it, or should I say steal it from my company. I would like to know why.” There's nothing like getting straight to the point.

“I heard you was, how shall I say, a little hot-headed Mr Gunn and I will try to not take offence, even if, where I come from, your accusations could get you hurt,” he said in a bad Brooklyn accent.

“Sounds like everything I read about you is true, then, including the phoney Brooklyn
I-belong-to-the-mob
accent.”

If his eyes could get any colder and more malevolent they just did.

“Whose the girl?” he said, his eyes flickering over to Julie.

“None of your business. Now Rathborne Micro-Electronics Ltd. What do you want with the company?”

“I make global investments. This seems like a good investment. I talked it over with your father and he agreed with me.” He paused and leaned forward his mouth curving into a slight smile that did not touch his eyes. “My condolences.”

“Really. That's interesting, because I talked it over with my father, and he doesn't agree with you. In fact he sent me here to find out just what kind of game you're playing.”

If any more blood could have drained from his face it just did.

“Your father was killed. I saw it on the news....” De Costas blurted out before stopping himself. “You're not quite as stupid as they say you are, Mr Gunn.”

“True.” I reached into my pocket and took out my cell phone as the bodyguards lunged for their guns. I turned on the audio playback feature and held it up so everyone could hear.

“Over the years Mary has been receiving drugs from a London supplier, who I think is linked to Samuel De Costas, the man who is threatening to take over the Northern Ireland project. I went to the authorities of course but the inquiries have gone nowhere. I want you to fly to Belfast. Find out and then go to San Francisco. Find Samuel de Costas. Something bigger than a drug deal is afoot, Thomas.”
Earlier in the day I edited the transcript, taking out some words to make it sound as if my father was briefing me, and I was sure De Costas wouldn't notice the slight hesitations in the audio.

“You have nothing, just some words of a failed businessman who can't keep up with the new world,” De Costas said, but I detected uncertainty and a tinge of fear in his voice.

“I don't know what you are up to, De Costas, but I will find out and I will come for you. You can bet on that.” With that I turned, took Julie's arm, crossed the office, and walked down the corridor to the elevator.

“Holy crap, when you said rattle his cage you really meant it, didn't you?” Julie whispered. “Are we going to get out of here alive?”

“Oh yes. He's not that stupid, but when we get outside that's a whole different ball game. Did you catch the name on the file that woman took with her?”

“Coltrane Engineering.”

“Guess that's our next stop.”

“And she was wearing Clive Christian No.1.”

“Oh yeah? And what's that?”

“Just the most expensive perfume in the world. That woman is loaded,” she said tartly. “Personally I don't care for the smell of
Ylang-Ylang.”

We stepped into the elevator and the doors closed just before two of De Costas' bodyguards could reach us. They would not be far behind, so I had better think of plan quickly. We had parked the car two blocks away, so I had to deal with the two bodyguards before we could make our way back to it. I pressed the button for Parking Level One, ignoring Julie's questioning look.

The second elevator, the only one the bodyguards could use, was still ascending as we began to drop, and only began to descend when we were over half way down.

“De Costas won't want a scene here, so he'll have a reception committee at street level. That's why we're going to Parking Level One. Buy us a little more time.”

“I brought a little insurance,” Julie said pulling up her dress and extricating the Beretta.

“You're lucky they didn't have a metal detector.”

“It was a party, not airport security.”

As we passed the ground floor, I could see two more bodyguards waiting for us in the lobby, caught off-guard as the elevator sped underground. According to the building schematics, there was a loading and unloading bay for the kitchens and laundry adjacent to Parking Level one, which could be accessed by a security door from the garage.

“Text your father to unlock the security door in thirty seconds.”

Julie rapidly sent the text as the elevator glided to a halt and the doors hissed open. We were out and running toward the security door as the sound of footsteps clattered on the metal emergency exit staircase, signifying that the bodyguards would be here in moments. I just hoped my timing was right and Oldfield managed to trip the lock. As my hand closed on the handle I heard the electronic lock trip, gently opened the door and followed Julie through as the emergency exit door banged open on the other side of the parking garage.

So far so good.

The door locked comfortingly behind us as we walked quickly up the ramp and out of the loading bay into the cool San Francisco night.

“Quite some trick from halfway around the world,” Julie said breathlessly as we kept to the shadows and put as much distance between us and the De Costas building as possible before circling back to the Volvo.

“Mainframe computers are instantaneous. Doesn't matter where you are, if the connection is fast enough.”

“Now what?”

“We can't go back to the beach house, the bridges have surveillance cameras so I guess it's Mojave and have a look at what De Costas is hiding out in the desert.”

“Back to being Mr and Mrs Blacket then?”

“Indeed.”

Driving out of the city
was a matter of keeping to side streets and avoiding the main highways. I'd taken the precaution of filling up with gas before leaving Stinson Beach, at a small local gas station where I knew they didn't have cameras, so we snaked our way down the peninsula to San Jose, then cut across to Sonora where a winding highway took us across the mountains to the Nevada border. From there it was a straight run down the west side of Death Valley to the Mojave Desert. Well not straight exactly, but if anyone decided to follow Mr and Mrs Blacket, it would be a long hot drive.

“There's a motel I know near Panamint Springs on the edge of Death Valley. We'll stay there tomorrow night.”

“Sounds wonderful. Just as long as they have air conditioning.”

“They do. What's more important is that it's quiet, private and is exactly where Mr and Mrs Blacket would stay.”

“Well OK. Hon” Julie drawled. “I juz caint wait to snuggle up with you in a nice little 'itsy-bitsy' motel.”

TEN

We arrived in Panamint Springs
at seven in the morning having driven all night, tired, dusty, and ready for a shower and breakfast. The motel was pretty much as I remembered. Quaint, simple, and clean, perched on the edge of nowhere in Death Valley National Park. It was already hot, dry and dusty, and it wasn't going to get any cooler, so once we checked in and cleaned up, Julie and I went over to the restaurant, sat on the porch, ordered ice cold orange juice, scrambled eggs and bacon.