St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

Kilda.”
    She checked the peephole. A gray-haired man with a plush walrus mustache and a leather briefcase stood in the hallway. Behind him, two bellmen waited beside luggage carts that held three large aluminum suitcases apiece.
    She took a deep breath and unlocked the door. “Bring them in.”
    The bellmen maneuvered the carts into her room.
    “Sign here,” Johnston said.
    “Not until I see the paintings,” Jill retorted.
    Without a word Johnston noisily opened each of the six cases, then closed them. “Satisfied?”
    With Zach gone? Not likely.
    “Yes,” was all Jill said aloud. “Take those three suitcases to the concierge’s secured storage area,” she told one bellman. “Leave the claim tickets with the concierge.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
    “When I call the concierge, the head of security will release the three suitcases to the person I name. But only when I call. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” the young bellman said again.
    “If you have any questions, I’ll brief the concierge on my way out.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Johnston gave the bellman two twenties.
    The young man smiled and left.
    The second bellman accepted his own hefty tip and walked out, leaving both luggage and cart, shutting the door behind him.
    As soon as they were alone, Johnston opened his briefcase and handed her some papers.
    “Read carefully before you sign,” he said. “We don’t want you flip-flopping on us again. When I walk out of here, St. Kilda walks, too. You’ll be on your own.”
    “That’s the whole point of firing St. Kilda,” Jill said. “I work better alone.”
    “Your choice.” Johnston sounded bored.
    She took the papers and rustled them, making enough noise for the bugged phone to pick up. Then she started reading.
    Johnston opened his briefcase, put his finger to his lips, and handed her a leather portfolio.
    She almost dropped it. “Heavy words, here.”
    “One of the partners in St. Kilda is a judge,” Johnston said. “If you require translation of any legal jargon, please let me know.”
    “So far, so good.”
    She opened the portfolio, saw a BlackBerry, a Colt Woodsman, two loaded magazines, and five one-hundred-dollar bills. She raised her eyebrows.
    “Explain clause three, paragraph two,” she said.
    As Johnston began a long ad-lib, she checked the weapon quickly, carefully, knowing that his voice would cover any noise she might make.
    How did Zach know this was the right gun for me? Jill asked silently. Was it in my file? Did I tell him?
    Can he read my mind?
    Who cares? she told herself. The gun is here and I can operate it with my eyes closed.
    “Okay, I get it now,” Jill said, carefully laying the unloaded gun, two magazines, the BlackBerry, and the money on the bed. “I’ll never darken St. Kilda’s doorstep again, and vice versa.” She handed over the empty portfolio. “You have a pen I can use?”
    “Of course.”
    She signed, he countersigned, and the deal was done.
    “Here’s your copy,” Johnston said, handing her two papers instead of one. “Good luck, Ms. Breck,” he added, opening the door. “Without St. Kilda, you’ll need it.”
    The door closed firmly behind him.
    Jill looked at the flat, long-barreled semiautomatic pistol and two loaded magazines lying on the peach sheets of the bed. She hoped that was all the “luck” she needed.
    “Where did I leave that TV remote?” she asked aloud. “It should come with a leash.”
    She started throwing pillows around until her sat phone was covered up.
    “Ah, there it is.”
    She turned on the TV to a twenty-four-hour weather station,ramped up the volume, and went back to the bed. She eased one of the magazines into the butt of the pistol but didn’t cycle the action. She slipped the extra magazine, the pistol, and the money into her belly bag. On the way out of the hotel, she’d carry her sat phone in her hand, like someone anxious to called or be called. After that, the phone could live on the passenger seat.
    The BlackBerry PDA was familiar. Some of the rafting outfits she worked for used them.
    She folded the copy of her severance agreement with St. Kilda and put it into her belly bag. The second piece of paper was more interesting. She sat on the bed to read the typed message.
    Jill,
    Zach told me you used a pistol like this before you went to college. The bullets are .22-caliber long rifle hollow points. The opposition shouldn’t be surprised you’re carrying. If they are,